University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Thyrsis, Chorus.
Thyr.
O cruelty extream! ungrateful Maid!
Oh most ungrateful Sex! and thou
Oh Nature! careless of thy Sons,
Why hast thou plac'd in Womens eyes
All that is amiable and kind?
And hast forgot to mould their Hearts as soft,
Or make 'em with their Eyes agree.
Ah, poor Amintas! miserable Youth,
Where hast thou hid thy self from human sight?
I've sought thee every where in vain;
I fear the transports of thy rage
Have hurry'd thee to do a thing
For which we all must mourn: But see,
Perhaps those Swains can tell me where
Thou art. Ah Shepherds have ye seen
Amintas?

Chorus.
You seem concern'd:
What reason have ye for these tears?

Thyr.
Amintas, poor Amintas, is the cause:
Have ye not seen him lately?

Chorus.
No;
We have not seen him since he went
With you towards yonder Wood; but why
D'ye ask so earnestly?

Thyr.
I fear
H' has kill'd himself since that.

Chor.
Amintas kill'd himself! for what?

Thyr.
‘Anothers hatred, and his love.

Chorus.
‘When two such Enemies unite.
‘What can they not effect? Explain
‘Your self more clearly: what d'ye mean?

Thyr.
He lov'd a Nymph too much, and she
‘Too much despis'd him for his love.

Chorus.
Ah tell me all, while you relate
The story, some may come this way,
And bring us news of him you seek:
Perhaps Amintas will himself
Before you've finish'd it, arrive.

Thyr.
Yes, you shall know it, for 'tis but just
That such ingratitude should be
As infamous as 'tis extream.
Amintas heard (I told him where,
Alas! and brought him to the place)
That Sylvia was with Daphne gone
To bath 'em in a neighb'ring Brook,
Fearful and dubious there he went,
His heart still bidding him to stay,
As I perswaded him to go;
And thus as he inclin'd to stop,
I push'd him on, and forc'd him to proceed.
As we approach'd the Brook, we heard
A womans lamentable cryes,
And Daphne presently appear'd,
Beating her Breasts, and looking wild,
As if some horrid thing was done;
But when she spy'd us, she cry'd out,
Help, fly, or Sylvia's ravish'd, fly.
Swifter than Leopards on their prey
The amorous Amintas slew,
I follow'd, and behind the Boughs
Saw the young Maid, all naked bound,
Her hair, which in bright tresses us'd to flow,
Now ty'd her to a Tree: What once preserv'd
Her Virgin Bosom from lascivious looks,
Was now the fatal Instrument
To hurt her Modesty, and bind
Her arms about the rugged Bark:
Her tender feet were ty'd with twigs:
And o're against her I perceiv'd
A wicked Satyr, who had then
Just fasten'd her for his design:
Sylvia, as well she could, strove
To hinder his attempts.

Chorus.
But what
Could she have done at last?

Thyr.
Amintas like a Lyon fierce
Rusht on the Satyr with his Dart,
I pick'd up Stones, and was prepar'd
To help him, when the Monster fled
Far from revenge, and left our friend
Behind, who now had time to gaze
On all the Beauties he ador'd:
He saw a thousand hidden Charms,
Which set afresh his heart on fire,
And easily one in his looks
Might read his wonder and delight,
Who mingling with his Love Respect,
Thus in submissive accents spoke:
Forgive, fair Maid, forgive these hands,
If they with too much boldness touch
Your heavenly body, thus expos'd.
Oh! Sylvia, murmur not at fate,
Who sent me here to set you free.

Chorus.
Such words would soften Rocks,
And melt the most obdurate heart.
What said she now?

Thyr.
Nothing; but lookt
On him who sav'd her, with disdain;
Asham'd to be thus found, and loth
To be by one she hated, freed.
She strove with all her art to hide
Her Breasts, and keep 'em from his sight.
Amintas coming up with fear,
Unbound her Hair, and as he touch'd
Her Locks thus said. Oh barbarous Tree,
Unworthy of these sacred knots,
With which we Lovers only should be bound:
Ah how couldst thou such Beauty wrong!
Then trembling he unty'd her arms,
Whiter than Ivory or Snow,
And bending to the ground, began
To break the twigs which bound her feet;
But Sylvia rudely push'd him off,
And spite of his respect, commanded
Him proudly not to touch her feet.
Hence Shepherd, touch me not, she cry'd,
For I'm Diana's, and can loose
My feet without your help.

Chorus.
Oh! how
Could she with so much pride reward
Such services, and such respect.

Thyr.
Amintas modestly withdrew,
And durst not look on her again,
But what he long'd so much to see,
With pain deny'd himself, afraid
To be by her he lov'd, deny'd.
I, who behind the Covert stood,
And saw and heard what he had said and done,
Was oft by just resentment mov'd,
And hardly kept from crying out,
To see how haughtily she us'd
The man to whom she ow'd her Life,
Or what is dearer than her Life,
Her Honour, by his means preserv'd.
And yet, oh strange ingratitude!
When with much trouble she had unty'd
Her Feet, away she ran, and scorn'd
To bid the Swain adieu: She flew
Fast as a Stag, but had no cause
To fear Amintas, who had shewn
Such proofs of wonderful respect.

Chorus.
What made her fly?

Thyr.
She rather chose
To owe her safety to her flight,
Than to Amintas love.

Chorus.
She shew'd in this
That she delights to be ingrate:
Where went the Shepherd then?

Thyr.
I know not.
Justly provok'd, I ran to stop
The Nymph, but she was gone too far:
When to the Fountain I return'd,
In hopes to find Amintas there,
I found him not, and fear he's gone
To end his troubles with his Life.

Chorus.
Tho Lovers often talk of death,
Few of them practice what they talk.

Thyr.
I wish he may be one of those.

Chorus.
He will, you may be sure he will.

Thyr.
I'll go to Sage Elpinus Bow'r,
There, if he lives, perhaps he's gone.
Elpinus Pipe has often sooth'd his griefs,
Compos'd his thoughts, and gave him rest.
Rocks listen to the Shepherds heavenly Songs,
Ev'n Mountains by his Musick charm'd
Have danc'd, and Rivers flow'd with Milk:
Honey from Briars have distill'd,
And dying Lovers been with pleasure fill'd.

SCENE II.

Amintas, Daphne, Nerina.
Amin.
Oh! Pityless pity, cruel friend!
To snatch away my Dart, with which
I might have ended all my woes:
The longer I retard my death
'Twill be the sharper when it comes.
Ah! Daphne, why wouldst thou perswade
A wretch to live in misery?
But all thy reasons are too weak,
The hopes that thou wouldst give me vain:
Why wouldst thou flatter me from death,
Since 'tis my interest to dye?

Daph.
Despair no more, for if I know
Sylvia's mind, 'twas more her shame,
Than fear or scorn that made her fly.

Amin.
There's safety in despair, but hope
Would quickly ruin me: I see
You only would by specious hopes
Prevent my death a while: for what?
Ah! can there be a torment worse
Than Life to such a wretch as me?

Daph.
Live wretched, as thou thinkst thy self,
And under all thy pains support
Thy heart, that after so much woe,
Thou mayst, tho late, o'recome 'em, and be blest;
Let this encourage thee to hope,
Think on the Beauties thou hast seen;
And, as thou justly mayst, expect,
That all those treasures will be thine.

Amin.
Fortune and Love did only shew
Those Beauties to me, that my Eyes
Might see the riches I'm deny'd.

Nerina.
Why, like the Raven, must I be
The omen of bad news? Ah poor
Montano! how wilt thou survive
Thy Daughters loss, thy Sylvia's death,
The death of one thou lov'dst so well?
No more a Father now, at least
Without a Child.

Daph.
I hear the voice
Of one that talks of death.

Amin.
I hear
My Sylvia nam'd, it strikes my heart:
Who calls on Sylvia?

Daph.
Ha, Nerina!
‘So dear to Cynthia, so fair
‘Her face, so white her hands,
‘Her mien so soft, so full of grace,
‘That she's the glory of our Woods.

Nerina.
'Tis necessary thou shouldst know thy loss,
Montano, that thou mayst procure
The miserable relicts of thy Child.
Oh Sylvia! oh unhappy Maid!

Amint.
Ha! what of Sylvia? speak.

Nerina.
Oh Daphne!

Daph.
What wouldst thou have of Daphne? say.
Why dost thou mourn and call on Sylvia?

Nerina.
I've cause to mourn, the fatal things
Which have been to day will make
You, him, and every body mourn.

Amin.
What things? Ah tell me all! my heart
Chills at thy words: Speak, does she live?

Daph.
Tell us what fatal things are done.

Nerina.
Why have I liv'd, oh Heaven! to be
The messenger of these sad tydings.
Sylvia came naked to our house,
(You know perhaps the fatal cause)
Where being cloath'd she fain would go,
And forc'd me with her to the Chace.
We went, and in the Forest found
The Nymphs, who by appointment met,
Were ready to begin the sport,
When from the Thicket I perceiv'd
A Wolf of monstrous size rush forth,
Licking his bloody Lips, whose foam
Reeking and Crimson, made us shake with fear;
But Sylvia from her Quiver took
An Arrow, put it to the Bow
I gave her, which she nimbly bent,
And taking at the Beast just aim,
She shot him near the Head; the Wolf enrag'd
Fled to the Thicket: Sylvia drew,
And brandishing her Dart, pursu'd
Him in the Woods.

Amint.
Oh doleful story!
Of which, if 'tis so sad to hear
So much, what must it be to know
The rest.

Nerina.
I, with another Dart,
Follow'd 'em by the blood the Wolf had spilt,
But could not reach 'em, they were gone too far.
I lost her in the Woods, yet still
Kept on alone, and wander'd thro
The frightful Thicket, till I came
To its most unfrequented tracts,
Where Sylvia's Dart lay on the ground,
And at a little distance thence
Her veil; and while I gaz'd on these,
I spy'd seven Wolves around a Corps,
Who tore it with their bloody Teeth.
So eager on their Prey,
I saw the woful sight unseen by them;
With fear and pity mov'd, I turn'd
My steps, and got in safety home.
This, this is all that I can tell: [Shews the Veil.

This all of Sylvia which remains.

Amin.
Ah! thou hast told too much.
Oh! Dear Remains: Oh! precious Blood,
Oh Sylvia! now alas no more!

Daph.
Ah! What, Nerina, hast thou said?
It strikes his Soul: he swoons, he dyes!

Nerina.
Perhaps 'tis but a Lovers fit;
He breathes still; see, he comes to life.

Amint.
Ah! Grief too mighty to be born,
And yet too weak to be my death;
This office for my hand's reserv'd,
And by my hand shall be perform'd.
If my misfortunes are so sure,
If Sylvia's dead, oh Daphne, why,
Why didst thou renew my pain,
By bringing me to life again?
How good, how pleasant had it been,
If n an extasie of woe
Thou hadst permitted me to dye:
The Gods, who knew I should by this
Prevent the torments they've prepar'd
For me to feel, inspir'd your hearts
With pity, that being forc'd to live
I might endure 'em all; and all
I have endur'd, for Sylvia's dead:
Nor is it possible for me
To be more wretched than I am:
And now methinks 'tis just that Heav'n and you
And all should suffer me to dye.

Daph.
At least defer it till you know the truth.

Amin.
I know the truth, I know too much,
And have deferr'd my death too long.

Nerina.
Oh heaven! I wish I had been mute.
When I began the story.

Amin.
Lend me, Nerina, lend the Veil,
All that is left me of my love
That on it I may feast my Eyes,
The little way I have to go,
The little time I have to live,
That looking on her Blood, I may
Go boldly to my doom: But oh
What need such little helps
To lead me to my end?

Nerina.
No, Swain,
You must not have the Veil, if this
Is your design: I'll not promote
Your death.

Amint.
Ah! canst thou, Nymph, deny
So small a favour to a man,
Who ne're will ask another.
The fates still persecute me, still declare
Against me, and in little things
Shew what I must expect in great.
Keep, keep the Veil, and live in peace,
Let misery with me forsake these Woods,
I go to other Shades, and never shall return.

Daph.
Stay, stay Amintas, oh I fear
His fury.

Nerina.
But we can't prevent
What he intends, he flies
Too fast for us; we should in vain
Pursue him, and in vain attempt
To stop him in his course.
In silence I'll their fortune mourn;
Let others tell Montano, if they please,
Few people thank us for such tales as these.

CHORUS.