SICELIDES A PISCATORY,  
As it hath been Acted in king's College, in Cambridge.  
LONDON, Printed by I. N. for William Sheares, and are to be sold at his shop, at the great South door of St. Paul's Church. 1631.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Perindus, A Fisher, son to Tyrinthus, in love with Gaucilla.  
Armillus, A Shepherd, and acquainted with Perindus.  
Thalander, A Fisher, son to Glaucus, in love with Olinda, disguised and called Atyches.  
Alcippus, A Fisher.  
Pas, A Fisher, in love with Cosma.  
Fredocaldo, An old Fisher, in love with Cosma.  
Olinda, Sister to Perindus.  
Glaucilla, Sister to Thalander.  
Cosma, A light Nymph of Messena.  
Cancrone, Two foolish Fishers, servants to old Tyrinthus.  
Scrocca, Two foolish Fishers, servants to old Tyrinthus.  
Tyrinthus, Father to Perindus and Olinda.  
Conchylio, Cosma's page.  
Rymbombo, Cyclops.  
Dicaus. Neptune's chief Priest.  
Nomicus, An inferior Priest.  
Glaucus, Muti.  
Circe, Muti.  
Gryphus, Tyrinthus his man.  
Cuma, Perindus his boy.  
Executioners.  
Chorus, of Priests.  
Chorus, of Fishers.    

prologus CHAMUS.  
BEgin, thou royal Muse, Envy ne'er uses,  
to dwell in gentle Courts, or sacred Muses:  
To beg of them that common courtesy  
Must grant; were to condemn both them, and thee:  
Thy Came assures thee, they will all agree,  
Gently to bear their actor's infancy;  
Infants oft please; the choicest Poet song,  
Breeds less delight than th' infants prattling tongue.  
Then let me here entreat your minds to see,  
In this our England, fruitful Sicily,  
Their two twin Isles; so like in soil and frame,  
That as two twins they're but another same.  
But this they beg, which you may grant with ease:  
That all these pains to pleasure you, may please.   

SICELIDES,  

Act. 1.  

Scen. 1.  Enter PERINDVS, ARMILLVS, CUMA. Perindus. 
Cuma! bear home our spoils, and conquering weapons,  
And truss them on a wreath as our just trophy:  
And when Cancrone returns, return to me. Exit Cuma  
Thus: if but thus: yet thus my state is better,  
While lesser cares do laugh and mock the greater;  
This change is best when changing I frequent,  
Even now that moist, now this dry element,  
When with this sceptre, setting on the Land,  
The scaly footless people I command:  
When riding on my wooden horse, I see  
The Earth that never moves, remove from me.  
And why my friend doth not this guise beseem me?  
In this I am not reckless as you deem me.  Ar. 
Not that I censure, but demand the cause,  
Why being borne, and bred, in Shepherd's laws;  
You have our Hills, and Downs, and Groves forsaken,  
And to these Sands, and Waves yourself be taken.  Per 
Shepherd or fisher, I am still the same,  
I am a sea guest not for gain, but game.  Ar. 
A gamesome life? thus with unarmed arms  
To fight 'gainst winds, and winter's sharp alarms,  
And paddle in chill Neptune's Icy lap?  
But if in fishing any pleasure be,  
In Shepherd's life there is much more say we.  Per. 
Yet fisher's life with me doth most consort,  
This sporting serves to moralize my sport:  
Viewing the storms, and troublesome waves; I find  
Some thing in nature restless as my mind:  
Each captive fish tells met that in death's snare,  
My heart is not the only prisoner.  Ar. 
Walk along the shore—  
Oft there he walks  
Oft there with me or with the waves he talks.  Per. 
There in the tide I see fleet fortunes changing,  
And state of man, weak state: that's never standing:  
But rises still, or falls all as the main,  
That ebbs to flow, or flows to ebb again.  
Yet fortune I accuse thee not for raging,  
Let others plain, I never felt the changing,  
Bud wast thou at the first, and so art still,  
Before I knew what's good I knew the ill:  
And since of all my goods thou first bereav'st me,  
I ne'er expected good, thou ne'er deceived'st me;  
Therefore although Oracle from whence  
I late arrived, would feed vain confidence;  
Yet since so sure assurance thou dost give me,  
Still of the two fortune I must believe thee.  Ar. 
Vain fear when th' Oracle doth promise good;  
The heaven's decrees by chance were near withstood.  
You fear without a cause, oft causeless fright,  
Is th' only cause that makes that on us light  
Which most we fear, ever a jealous eye  
Makes enemies by fearing enmity.  Per. 
What fearful tempest do the waves foretell,  
When seas without a storm to mountains swell.  Ar. 
Ill is invited when it is suspected  
And grief already come where he's expected.  Per. 
The greatest evils oft are where thee show not.  
I fear the more, because my fear I know not.  
Music! how sad it sounds; my damped heart  
Tells me in these sad strains I bear a part:  
I wrong thee fate, or else thou now dost strain thee  
Which some unused welcome t'entertain me.   

Scen. 2.  Enter Dicaeus Neptune's Priest following Olinda, led by two Nymphs Cosma and Glaucilla, before and after a Chorus of Fishers and Priests singing. 

Song.  
Go go thy country's joy and jewel,  
The seas and rocks were ever cruel;  
Men then may pity thee in vain,  
But not help nor ease thy pain.  
Take then these tear thy latest due,  
For ever now alas adieu.   Olin. 
Glaucus; to thee I friendless maid,  
In these last gifts my vows have paid:  
These once Olinda's, now are thine,  
This net, and hook, this rod, and line:  
Thou know'st, why here my sports I give thee,  
Hence came my joys, and here they leave me.  Gla. 
Olinda, if that smiles were proofs of sorrow,  
Sure I should think thee full of woe, and sadness,  
but in so heaped grief, when every eye  
Yields tribute to so great a misery.  
Thou only smil'st, why every tear thou seest, is paid to thee—  Olin. 
The less I need to pay:  
Gladucilla I cannot mourn, when I am married.  Gla. 
Married? now heaven defend me, if this be marriage,  
So to be gripped in paws of such a monster,  
And bedded in his bowels—  Cos. 
Olinda I should weep,  
And spend the shortened breath that fate affords me,  
In cursing fate which makes my breath so short.  Olin. 
Peace peace my Cosma, thou wouldst  
Have me mad with reason!  Cos. 
No: reason is never senseless.  Olin. 
Thinkst thou me sense less friend?  Gla. 
Dost not thou prove it?  Olin. 
Why my Glaucilla I see thy drowned eyes,  
I feel thy kind embracements, and which thou seest not,  
Nor feelst, I feel and see, more mirth and joy  
Spring in my heart; then if I now were leading  
To the best bed that Sicily affords me.  
Glaucilla if there were but fit occasion  
That I might show thee this tormented heart  
It would affright thee friend to hear me tell  
How many deaths live in so narrow Hell.  Decae. 
We stay too long; go on these idle tears  
Quench not her grief, but add new kindled fears.  Olen. 
Decaeus; no fear within this breast is lying.  
Who living dies, fears not to live by dying.  Exeunt ad rupem rufam manent reliqui.  

Scen. 3.  Enter Perindus, Armillus. Ar. 
Saw you the troop which passed along here?  Per. 
Yes.  Ar. 
Who is it led with such a mournful show?  Per. 
My sister.  Ar. 
Who the fair Olinda?  Per. 
Yes:  Ar. 
And do you know the end and purpose?  Per. 
No:  Ar. 
Nothing but no and yes? fie fie Perindus  
Your too much passion, shows you want affection;  
Your sister in such sort conveyed, and you  
So careless of her grief? it much misseems you  
Why learn you not the cause?  Per. 
Thou counselst well,  
Grief weary of itself, all sense depriving.  
Felt neither sense, nor grief, by overgrieving: Enter Atyches.  
But see my Atyches: what different passions  
Strive in his doubtful face, pity would weep,  
And danger fain would rock high thoughts asleep,  
Whiles resolution chides the daring fear,  
And courage makes poor fear afraid to fear.  Atych. 
Thou God that rul'st the sun's bright flaming cart  
If thou my grandsire art, as sure thou art  
For in my breast I feel thy powers divine,  
Firing my soul, which tells me I am thine:  
Direct my hand and guide this pointed dart,  
That it may pierce, and rive the monster's heart.  Per. 
Atyches.  Atych. 
Ah Perindus this luckless hour  
Bids thee unwelcome, fly and never more,  
Never approach to view this deadly shore.  Per. 
Why what's the news?  Atych. 
Thy sister the fair Olinda must die.  Ar. 
So must we all.  Atych. 
But none of all as she.  Per. 
Canst tell the cause and manner?  Atych. 
yes; and till the sun  
Twixt noon and night his middle race shall run,  
The rites will not be finished; 'tis briefly thus.  
Thou know'st by Neptune's temple close their grows  
A sacred garden, where every flowers blow:  
Here blushing roses, there the Lilies white,  
Here Hyacinth, and there Narcissus bright:  
And underneath, the creeping violets show:  
That sweetness oft delights to dwell below:  
Vaulted above with thousand fragrant trees,  
And under paved with shamefast Strawberries,  
Which creeping low do sweetly blushing tell,  
That fairest pleasantst fruits, do humblest dwell.  
Briefly a little Heaven on Earth it seems:  
where every sweet and pleasure fully streams.  Ar: 
Fisher thou now describest some paradise,  
Can any ill from so much good arise?  Atych: 
Henbane and roses in our garden grow,  
Ah that from fruits so sweet, such gall should flow!  
Here fair Olinda, with her Nymphs arrives,  
And time away, time to fast posting drives,  
While Nago that deformed enchanter, ranging  
Along these trees, his shape and habit changing  
Seemed then Glaucilla, such his statelike eyes,  
Such hair, such lips, such cheeks, such rosy dyes,  
So like glaucilla's self that had she spied him,  
More would she doubt herself, the more she eyed him  Ar. 
Can art forge nature with so true a lie?  Atych. 
The falsest coin is fairest to the eye,  
Singling thy sister forth, they chance to see,  
The sacred graft of that Hesperian tree,  
Whose golden apples much the eye delighting,  
Would tempt the hands: the longing taste inviting:  
And now the subtle witch spies fit occasion,  
And with fit speech and oaths, and soft persuasion,  
So words he mind; that she (ha little guessing,  
What monster lay under that feigned dressing,  
pulls of th' unhappy fruit straight down she falls,  
And thrice a thundering voice Dicaeus calls;  
The priest knew what the fearful voice portended,  
And fair Olinda half dead apprehended:  
And to the temple bears her, there reserving  
Till the third day with death pays her deserving  
So Neptune, bids, that who shall touch the tree.  
With hands profane, shall by Malorcha die;  
Malorcha bread in seas, yet seas do dread him,  
As much more monstrous than the seas that bred him  Per. 
Ah my Olinda who can pity thee  
That wouldst not pity th' excellent Thalander.  
'Tis just ye seas well doth impartial fate  
With monstrous death punish thy monstrous hate.  
And whither art thou now thus armed going.  Atych. 
Down to the fatal rock I go to see  
And act a part in this foul Tragedy.  Per. 
Why canst thou hope such losses to repair?  Atych. 
Who nothing hopes yet nothing ought despair.  Per. 
What 'tis impossible? ah cease to prove?  Atych. 
whatever was impossible to love?  Per. 
'Tis certain thou add'st thy death to hers  Atych. 
Unworthy love that life for love prefers  Per. 
What good canst do when thou canst not restore her.  Atych 
to live with her or else to die before her.  Per. 
'Tis fate that in this monster bids engrave her.  Atych. 
And 'tis my fate to die with her or save her.  Per. 
In vain to fight against all conquering jove:  Atyoh. 
But in my hand shall fight jove conquering love.  Per. 
Atyches why shouldst thou thus betray thyself?  
She was my sister, and as dear to me  
As ever was a sister to a brother:  
Had fate felt any hope, my willing hand  
Should be as Pressed to give her aid as any.  
Were not the fight 'gainst heaven I might adventure,  
But here I needs must leave her, though a brother  
She never loved me.  Atych. 
I loved her ever.  Per. 
More shouldest thou hate her now:  Atych. 
Can Seas or rivers stand can Rocks remove?  
Could they? yet could I never cease to love:  
Perindus, if now I see thee last, farewell:  
Within thy breast all joys and quiet dwell.  
Adieu: Olinda now to thee I fly  
For thee I lived, for thee I'll gladly die,  Exit Atyches. Per. 
Go choicest spirit: the heavenly love regard thee,  
And for thy love, with life, and love reward thee.   

Scen. 4.  Enter Perindus, Armillus. Ar. 
Perindus thou know'st how late was my arrival,  
And short abode in this your Sicily,  
And how delighted with these accidents  
So strange and rare, I have decreed to make  
Some longer stay, but since I saw this Atyches  
His love more strong than death, a resolution  
Beyond humanity I much desired  
To know him, what he is, and what his country  
That breeds such minds: let me entreat you then  
At large to give me all this story  
Somewhat 'twill east your grief, just are his pains  
That sorrow with more sorrow entertains.  Per. 
It will be tedious, and my heavy mind  
Fit words for such a tale can never find:  
Yet I'll unfold it all, that you may see  
How beauteous love shows in inconstancy:  
Who hath not heard of Glaucus' love? hapless  
Whilst fairest Seylla baths him, love inspires  
At once herself she cools and him she fires.  
A sea god burnt in flames, and flames most please him  
Glaucus finds neither waves nor herbs to ease him  
Cold were his eyes more cold her coy disdain:  
Yet none of both could quench love's scorching flame:  
Till Circe whom scornd love to madness moves  
Quenches at once her beauty and his loves.  
There stands she now a proof of jealous spite  
As full of horror now as then delight:  Ar. 
The fruit of jealousy is ever cursed,  
But when 'tis grafted in a crab 'tis worst.  
Bad in a man, but monstrous in a woman,  
And which the greater monster hard to know  
Then jealous Circe, or loathed Scylla now  
After when time had eased his grief for Scylla,  
Circe with charms, and prayers and gifts had won him  
Her love she reaped in that high rocky frame,  
Which ever since hath borne fair Circe's name:  
The Moon her fainting light 10 times had fed,  
And 10 times more her globe had emptied:  
When two fair twins she brought, whose beauteous shine,  
Did plainly prove their parents were divine.  
The male Thalander, the female called Glaucilla,  
And now to youth arrived so fair they are  
That with them but themselves who may compare,  
All else excelling; each as fair as other  
Thus best compared the sister with the brother.  Ar. 
So lively to the ear thy speeches show them,  
That I must half affect before I know them.  Per. 
Vain words that think to blaze so great perfection,  
Their perfectness more proves words imperfection.  
But if these words some little sparkle move,  
How would their sight inflame thy soul with love?  
Scarce did his hair betray his blooming years,  
When with his budding youth his love appears,  
myself and sister equally he loves,  
And as on those two poles heaven ever moves  
So on us two his soul still fixed, still loving  
Was ever constant, by his constant moving:  
Yet never knew we which was most respected,  
Both equally and both he most affected.  
In me his worthy love with just reflection,  
Kindled an equal and a like affection,  
But she my sister most ungrateful maid,  
With hate, ah hateful vice, his love repaid.  Ar: 
Ceased he not then to love? this sure we hold  
That love not back reflected soon grows cold.  Per: 
No though all spite within her bosom swelled,  
Spite of her spite his love her hate excelled;  
At length to show how much he was neglected,  
His rival ugly rival she affected:  
Such rival could I wish whose foul distortion,  
Would make seem excellent a mean proportion,  
For Mago, thus his hated rival's named)  
All black and foul, most strange and ugly framed  
Begot by Saturn, on a seaborn witch,  
Resembling both, his hairs like threads of pitch  
Distorted feet, and eyes sunk in his head:  
His face dead pale, and seemed but moving lead  
Yet worse within, for in his heart to dwell  
His mother's furies have their darkest hell.  
Yet when Thalander wooed her, she neglects him,  
And when this monster flattered she respects him.  Ar: 
is't possible. troth Sir but that I fear me,  
If I should speak some women should over: hear me:  
Meet thinks I now could rail on all their kinds,  
But who can sound the depth of women's minds?  Per. 
Shortly to come toth' height of all their wrong,  
So could this Mago fill his smoothest tongue,  
That she Thalander banished from her sight,  
Never to see her more his sole delight:  
And he to none his hidden grief in parted,  
But full of loving duty straight departed  
Leaving our groves in woods he grows a ranger  
To all but beasts and senseless trees a stranger.  
Thus in a desert like his love forsaken  
When nothing but cold death his flames could slacken  
Atyches spied him, but so grief had pined him.  
That when he saw him plain, he could not find him.  
And so had sorrow all his graces reft  
That in him, of him nothing now was left  
Only his love; with which his latest breath  
He powered into his ears, so slept in death.  
The rest when better leisure time affords  
This luckless day asks rather tears then words.  Exeunt, 

CHORUS.  
Who ne'er saw death, may death commend,  
Call it joys Prologue troubles end:  
The pleasing sleep that quiet rocks him,  
Where neither care; nor fancy mocks him.  
But who in nearer space doth eye him  
Next to hell, as he'll defy him:  
No state, no age, no sex can move him,  
No beggars prey, no Kings reprove him:  
In midst of mirth, and loves alarms,  
He pulls the Bride from Bride grooms arms  
The beauteous Virgin he contemns,  
The guilty with the just condemns.  
All wear his cloth and none denies.  
Dressed in fresh coloured liveries.  
Kings lewe as beggars lie in graves,  
Nobles as base, the free as slaves,  
Blessed who on virtue's life relying,  
Dies to vice, thus lives by dying.  
But fond that making life thy treasure,  
surfeit'st in joy, art drunk in pleasure.  
Sweets do make the sour more tart.  
And pleasure sharps deaths keenest dart.  
Death's thought is death to those that live,  
In living joys, and never grieve.  
Hapless that happy art and know'st no tears  
whoever lives in pleasure, lives in fears   Exit. 
Finis Actus Primi.    

Act. 2.  

Scen. 1.  Enter Conchylio solus. 
I Have been studying, what bold hardy fool  
Invented fisher's art, that tired with safety,  
Would needs go play with waves, winds, death and hell,  
The sum of fisher's life is quickly found,  
To sweat, freeze, watch, fast toil be starved or drowned  
Well had my Mistress found no better trade,  
I would ere this have left these dabbling deities,  
But she while other fisher's fish on the seas,  
Sends me a fishing on the Land for flesh:  
No, game arrives amiss unto her net,  
For she's not borne among the cliffs, and rocks  
But from Messena comes to sport herself  
And fish for fools along these craggy shores,  
I took her for a Nymph, but she's a woman  
A very woman loveth all she sees,  
This for his sprightly wit, and that for Music,  
Him cause he's fair, another for his blackness  
Some for their bashfulness, more for their boldness,  
The wiseman for his silence, the fool for his bibble babble;  
And now she longs in haste for another fat codshead,  
A good fat sow, and I must snare one for her  
She has (let me see I have the tally)  
Some hundred lovers, yet still desires another  
The first that passeth all the rest in love  
Is called Pas: Hah know you your cue so well? Enter Pas.  
He is a malum collum, alas poor fool;  
He would engross my Mistress to himself  
He would have her all alone, let her alone for that  
And for that it will not be, he raves and swears  
And chides and fights, but what need I describe him  
he'll do't himself, come, begin begin.   

Scen. 2.  Pas Conchylio. Pas. 
Who sows the seas, or ploughs the easy shore?  
Yet I, fond I more fond, and senseless more:  
Who strives in nets to prison in the wind?  
Yet I in love a woman thought to bind:  
Fond, too fond thoughts, that thought in love to tie,  
One more inconstant than inconstancy:  
Look as it is with some true April day,  
The sun his glorious beams doth fair display,  
And straight a cloud breaks into fluent showers,  
Then shines and rains, and clears and straight it lours:  
And twenty changings in one hour do prove,  
So, and more changing is a woman's love.  
Fond then my thoughts, that thought a thing so vain,  
Fond love, to love what could not love again.  
Fond hopes, that anchor on so false a ground,  
Fond thoughts that fired with love, in hope thus drowned:  
Fond thoughts, fond hope, fond heart, but fondest I,  
To grasp the wind, and love inconstancy.  
Ah Cosma, Cosma.  Exit Con. 
Ah Pas, ass passing ass; hah, ha, he:  
Fond thoughts, fond hope, fond heart, but fondest I,  
To grasp the wind, and love inconstancy; ha, ha, he,  
This fool would have I know not what, the sea  
To stand still like a pond, the Moon never to change,  
A woman true to one he knows not what:  
She that to one all her affections brings  
Cages herself and pinions Cupid's wings.  
Let's see whose's the second; O the second  
Is an old dotard who though now fourscore  
Yet nature having left him some few hot embers  
Racked up in cold ashes, thinks himself all fire and flame  
And therefore like the dwarfs  
Who though ne'er so old, yet still consort with boys  
So he among the freshest, youth in dancing  
In songs and sporting spends his faddish time.  
When snow on's head, shows in his eye  
With winter looks gives summer words the lie  
His name is Fredocaldo; he knows his name Enter Fredocaldo.  
No sooner called but comes what is't he reads?  
Upon my life some sonnet, I'll stand and hear.   

Scen. 3.  Fredocaldo Conhilio. Fre. 
ay, I am silver white so is thy check  
Yet who for whiteness will condemn it?  
If wrinkled, of thy forehead is not fleck  
Yet who for frowning dare contemn it.  
Boys full of folly youth of rage  
Both but a journey to old age  
I am not yet fair Nymph too old to love  
And yet women love old lovers  
Nor yet to waving light, as false to prove  
youth a foul inside fairly covers.  
Yet when my light is in the wain  
Thy suns renew my spring again.  
Pretty very pretty, why yet I see  
My brain is still as fresh as in my youth.  
And quick invention springs as currently  
As in the greenest head: this little distich  
I made this morn, to send unto my love.  
See, here's a leg how full, how little waning,  
My limbs are still accompanied  
With their kind fellow heat, no shaking palsy  
Nor cramp has ta'en possession, my swift blood streams  
Runs quick and speedy, through their burning channels  
Pish I am young, he is not ancient  
That hath a silver badge of hoary hairs  
But he that in sweet love is dead and cold  
So old men oft are young, and young men old  
I'll take my farewell of this pretty verse  
It is a pretty verse, I'll read it again Conchylio throws down his spectacles.  
If I am silver white and. O ho my spectacles.  
Ah naughty boy alas my spectacles  Con. 
Ha ha he your eyes Fredocaldo take up your eyes hah, ha, he.  Fre. 
Ah naughty boy alas my spectacles  
Whether is he gone? O if I find him  Con. 
Find me without eyes? hah, ha, he.  Fre. 
O my verses my verses, Snatches his verses.  Con. 
A very pretty verse: how fresh a brain that made it  
If I am silver white and. nay if you'll try your limbs come on.  Exit Fredocaldo. Enter Perindus. 
Farewell frost: how? Perindus? oh how fitly  
After warm winter comes a chill could summer  
This youth in all things is that old man's contrary  
This a cold May, that a hot january  
All my art cannot blow up one sparkle  
If I should stay he'd blast me, adieu sol in pisces  
Farewell good Caldofredo, I must after Fredocaldo  Exit.  

Scen. 4  Enter Perindus Allcippus. Per. 
Blessed is that fisher swain that sank i'th' flood  
he's food for them whom he would make his food.  
But I most wretched, who so many years  
Live safe in waters to be drowned in fears.  
In fire and sorrow like Titius is my life  
A covered table furnished still for grief.  
Hell love your pains, for all poor souls can prove  
Is felt and spoke but thus careless I love.  Enter Alcipyus. Alcip. 
Phoebus write thou this glorious victory  
And grave it on thy shining axletree  
That all may see a fisher hath done more  
Than any age hereafter or before.  Per. 
Alcippus what news? methinks I plain descry  
joy mixed with wonder in thy doubtful eye.  Alcip. 
Perindus most happy have I found thee here  Per. 
Is't good ah tell me, yet my grounded fear  
Pleads hope impossible.  Alcip. 
Were you away  
To the Echo I had told it, as grief, so joy  
Pressed down is burdensome, for now I see  
joy is no joy if bar from company  
Olinda by the Priests enchained-fast  
Unto the fatal rock down to the waist  
Was naked left, which thus was better dressed  
Beauty when most unclothed is clothed best:  
And now the Priest all rites had finished  
And those last words and hidden verses said  
Then thus he loud proclaims, who dare adventure  
Against this monstrous beast, now let him enter  
And if he conquer by his bold endeavour  
This goodly maid shall be his prize forever  
Straight was the monster loosed, whose ugly sight  
Struck every trembling heart with cold affright  
Some sweat, some freeze, some shriek, some silent wear  
The eye durst neither wink nor see for fear:  
Heaven hid his light, the fearful sun did shroud  
His glorious eye under a jetty cloud.  Per. 
sawst thou the ork?  Alcip. 
Yes, and my panting heart  
To think I saw it in my breast doth start.  Per. 
canst thou describe it?  Alcip. 
Never tongue can tell  
What to itself no thought can portray well.  
More big than monstrous Python, whom men fain  
By Phoebus first was bred, by Phoebus slain.  
His teeth thick ranked in many a double band  
Like to an armed battle ready stand  
His eyes sunk in's head, more fearful stood  
Like bloody flame or like to flaming blood  
Not any ear upon his head appears,  
No plaint nor prayer, no threat nor charm he fears  
In sea and land he lives and takes from both  
Each monsters part which most we fear and loath,  
Soon as he felt him lose, he shakes his crest  
And hungry posteth to his ready feast  
And as through seas his oars a passage tear  
The thronging waves fly fast, and roar for fear.  Per. 
methinks I see him and th' unhappy lover  
struck through with fright.  Alcip. 
In all their shrieks he smiles  
Stretching his arms, to fight himself composes  
And nothing feared his body interposes  
Shaking a dart the monster he defies  
Who scorning such a foe to's banquet flies  
But he with certain aim his javelin drives  
Which as the sender bad at's eye arrives.  
And fixed in's hollow sight, deep drenched stood  
Quenching the bloody fire with fiery blood  
The wounded monster loudly 'gins to yell  
If Hell do speak such is the voice of Hell,  
And to revenge his hurt he flies apace  
The other dart met him i'th' middle race  
And as along he blindly fast doth post  
His way and tother eye together lost  
Thus blind he quickly dies, and being dead  
Leaves to his foe his spoils, his paws his head.  Per. 
Hercules thy twelve works with this one conferred  
This one before thy twelve might be preferred.  Alcip. 
Perindus then mightst thou have seen how love  
Is not more bold than fearful, he that strove  
And conquered such a monster with a dart  
To her fair eyes yields up his heart  
Ah hadst thou seen how fearful modesty  
Joined with chaste love did chide the hungry eye  
Which having long abstained and long time fasted  
Some of those dainties now would fain have tasted  
Ah hast thou seen which such fit time he got  
How love too much remembering love forgot  
How th' eye which such a monster did outface  
Durst not look up upon her eye to gaze  
How th' hand which such a bold fight undertook  
When her it touched as with a palsy shook.  
As all that saw it thou wouldst soon have said  
That never lived so fortunate a maid.  
Most happy such a danger to recover  
More happy far by having such a lover.  
And hark the Fishers home the victor bringing  
Chant loud his conquest, his due praises singing.   

Scen. 5.  Enter in triumph with Chorus of Fishers and Priests singing Atyches crowned leading Olinda following Glaucilla and Cosma. 

Song  
Olinda if thou yield not now  
The ork less monstrous was then thou  
No monster to the eye more hateful  
Than beauty to desert ungrateful  
Yield then thy heart and hand  
And sing along this sand  
Love rule heaven, sea, and land.   Per. 
Atyches how farest thou? O let these arms enlace thee  
methinks I hold half heaven when I embrace thee.  Atych. 
Will Perindus go with us to the temple?  Per. 
Most willingly and when thou once art there  
Then 'tis a temple I may justly swear.  Exeunt omnes.  

Scen. 6.  Enter Cancrone and Scrocca with their boat from fishing. Scr. 
Yet more larboard! hol up against that wave now starboard!  Can. 
I think we are upon the shallow  Scr. 
Hold in Cancrone I smell the shore Cancrone falls in.  Can. 
Nay by your leave 'twas I that smelled it, for I am sure my nose kissed it.  Scr. 
Take hold of the stretcher, and then fasten the rope.  Can. 
A rope stretch all such bottle-head boatmen, had it been my lot to have been Master at sea as 'tis yours, we had near taken such a journey in such a flyboat, such a sows-ear, such an eggshell.  Scro. 
Come help to lave her.  Can. 
It's a true she boot I warrant she leaks brackish all the year long.  Scr. 
Will you come Sir you are yet in my jurisdiction on the water.  Can. 
Will you scale the fish sir, will you bring forth the nets sir, will you spread them upon the rocks sir you are at my demand Sir upon the land, we'll be known in our place (Scrocca drinks) is that your laving.  Scro. 
Ah ha this is something fresher than Neptune's salt potion, seest not what a pickle I am in, but O those Scylla's bandogs (bough wow) our boat bepissed herself for fear.  Can. 
I and thou thyself for company; faith we were almost in Thetis powdering tub, but now Scrocca lets off with our liquour: Sirrah half to this blue-beard Neptune, but he gets not one drop on't.  Scr. 
I and withal remember the roaring boy Boreas (puff puff) hold: you bear your poop too high Cancrone, you'd need go pump.  Can. 
So methinks my brain is somewhat warmer now my wirt gear's on. 
Let Neptune rage and roar and foam  
For now Cancrone's safe at home.   Scr. 
How now Cancrone! what? poesied?  Can. 
Why Scrocca is it such a matter for a waterman to be a poet nowadays?  Sco. 
ay but I wonder that in all thy Poems thou never mad'st an Epitaph for thy grandsire that was eaten up by the Cyclops.  Can, 
Ah Scrocca I prithee do not ming my grandsire, thou'lt spoil my poetry presently; those hungry side slops; they eat him up crust and crumb, and then killed him too and that which grieves me most: he never sent me word who it was that bit of's head, yet faith, one draught more and have at him.  He drinks. Scr. 
Nay if one draught will serve, he shall never starve for an Epitaph.  Can. 
So: it's coming I have it Scrocca.  
Here lies Cancrone's grandsire, who sans boat.  
Sands wind, sans seas sailed down the Cyclops throat.  Scr. 
Here lies? Why will you grave an Epitaph on the Cyclops belly?  
I'm sure he lies yonder.  Can. 
Mass thou sayst true, but all our late writers begin so.  Scr. 
Well sir will you walk home and warm your poetical vain at the kitchen fire.  Can. 
Yes I care not if I do, for I shall ne'er be well till I have got the chimney corner over my head. 
Farewell ye rocks and seas, I think ye'll show it  
That sicily affords a water-Poet    

Scen. 7.  Enter Conchylio solus. 
Hah, ha, he; I have laughed myself weary: is't possible?  
That fire and frost should thus keep house together,  
Sure age did much mistake him, when it set  
His snowy badge on his blue riveled chin.  
Were not his faces furrows filled with snow  
His hams unstrung his head so straightly bound  
His eyes so rainy, and his skin so dry  
He were a pretty youth.   

Scen. 8.  Enter Cancrone and Scrocca. Con. 
What old acquaintance? lie by Mistress a little  
I'll fish a while, I may chance to catch  
A Codshead; I'll stand and hear them.  Sor. 
Did not I tell you we were wrong? sir.  Can. 
methought, we were at land vile soon.  Sor. 
I prithee on which hand was the cape of Peloro,  
When we left Sulla's bandogs.  Can. 
That did belong to thy water office to mark,  
But sure it stood straight before a little o'th' on side,  
Right upon the left, and then it left, the right,  
And turned west by East, and then stood still North, North, By South.  Con. 
Well bold woodcock  
Without a bias.  Scr. 
Come look about you to your land office.  
I'll hold a ped of oysters the rock stands on yonder side;  
Look this way: I prithee is not this Circe's rock,  Can. 
I like thy reasons wondrous well it is her rock and her distaff too.  Con. 
I'll spin some thread out of this distaff.  Scr. 
Then I swear by Circe's juggling box we come in o' th' wrong side.  Can 
Look into my poll, canst thou not perceive by the colour of my brains that I have unlaced her knavery? thou know'st Circe's is a plaguy witch.  Scr. 
I she did translate a good father of mine into an hog.  Can. 
She with her whisking white wand, has given this rock a box on the ear, & set it one the other side of the country  Scr. 
I care not where Circe's dwells, but I am sure we dwell on this side, and we have pushed in the clean contrary way, and what you what, we have leapt through Hell-mouth: O strange how— he falls down and cries.  Can. 
O the ork the huge huntie-puntie.  Scr. 
Up cancrone I tell thee we have scaped him.  Can. 
I tell thee Sirocca we have not scaped him, he has eat us up  Con. 
These fishers are new returned from fishing, and know not that Atyches has slain the ork, I'll ork them.  Can. 
Ah Sirocca I would this Ork were in Neptune's belly, that will suffer such a worm to live in his dominions, I am a very macherell if the very name be not worse to me then, three nights cold fishing.  Ser 
methinks I am colder too than I was before.  Con. 
Let me strike then before the iron be key cold  
What hardy fishers dare approach this shore  
Untrod by men this twenty years and more.  Can. 
Good now Conchylio do not the Norke  Ser 
we did eat the golden apples; we.  Can. 
What old Cancrone? I am sorry for your chance The best that I advise you is that you return round about the Cape presently before the Ork smell you (if he were within twelve score he might wind them) foh.  Can. 
Nay I shall be devoured.  Con. 
Pluck out a good heart man.  Can. 
If I could do so I might save the ork a labour, that Will be done to my hand I know I shall be devoured.  Con. 
Why man.  Can. 
Why my grandsire was deflowered, and they say deflowering goes in a blood.  Con. 
If I rid you both of this fear will you worship me.  Can. 
O worshipful water-wight.  Scr. 
O Neptune's father.  Can. 
O Glaucus' Mother.  Con. 
Why then thus; my deities oracle gives you answer thus  
When 2 famous fishers fall upon this sand  
Let them for fear of mighty ork, leave seas sail home by land  
I have not pinched them for measure  
I have given them Oracle up to the elbows.  Can. 
Sail there's your office Scrocca, you must go:  Scr. 
By land, there's your office go you.  Con. 
What can you not expound.  
Drag up your boat and homeward cross this shore  Can. 
we are all made, I understood you sir, but I did not know your meaning.  Scr. 
Pull you the boat at nose I'll lift at the arse.  Can. 
Manners lack this is a land voyage, I am master.  Con. 
Hoh; roh; droh;, Horka, Corka, Suga ponto; the monster comes down under the boat turn it over I'll help: they cover themselves over with their beats for fear of the ork & crept over the stage.  
Retire thou sacred monster (creepe on)  
These sweet souls are no food for thee (on on)  
'Tis time these souls were spent they begin  
To stink, retire thou great god Neptune's scourge  
Retire I say while this twin tortoise passes  
And dare not once to touch these fish flesh asses.  
Hah, ha, he, farewell good tortoise, what good foutch? haddock Hare and Cod? you shall walk with me I'll be your Ork: yet I'll carry the Cod to my mistress Cosma. I know she loves it well: let Conchilio be turned into an Oyster if he would not play the Ork every day for such sport, it shall go hard but I'll with my friend Cancrone yet once again.  Exit. 

CHORUS.  
Happy happy fisher's swain  
If that ye knew your happiness  
Your sport tastes sweeter by your pains,  
Sure hope your labour relishes  
Your net your living, when you eat  
Labour finds appetite and meat.   

When the seas and tempest roar  
You either sleep or pipe or play  
And dance along the golden shore  
Thus you spend the night and day  
Shrill winds a pipe, hoarse seas a taber  
To fit your sports or ease your labour.   

First ah first the holy Muse  
rapt my souls most happy eyes  
Who in those holy groves do use  
And learn those sacred mysteries  
The years and months, old age and birth  
The palsies of the trembling earth.   

The flowing of the sea and Moon  
And ebb of both, and how the tides  
Sink in themselves and backward run.  
How palled Cynthia closely slides  
Stealing her brother from our sight  
So robs herself and him of light.   

But if cold natures frozen parts  
My dull slow heart and cloudy brain  
Cannot reach those heavenly nets  
Next happy is the fisher's pain  
Whose love roofs peace do safely hide  
And shut out fortune, want and pride.   

There shall I quiet fearless reign  
My boys my subjects taught submission  
About my court my sons my train  
Nets my purveyors of provision,  
The steer my sceptre, pipe musician  
Labour my Physic, no Physician.   

So shall I laugh the angry seas and sky  
Thus singing may I live, and singing die.     

Act. 3.  

Scen. 1.  Enter Perindus. 
WHen Attyches with better sight I eye,  
Some power methinks beyond humanity,  
Some heavenly power within his bosom lies  
And plainly looks through th' windows of his eyes.  
Thalander, if that souls departed rest  
In other men, thou livest in his breast,  
He is more than he seems, or else— but see. Enter Glaucilla.  
My love, my hate, my joy, my misery.  Glau. 
Perindus, whither turnest thou? if thy wandering love  
My love eschew, yet nothing canst thou see  
Why thou shouldst fly me, I am no monster, friend,  
That seeks thy spoil, look on me, I am she  
To whom th' haste vowed all faith and loyalty,  
Whom thou with vows and prayers and oaths haste plied  
And praying wept and weeping been denied,  
And died in the denial, I am she  
Whom by my brother's importunity  
Thalander's means thou want'st, who still persever,  
Though thou art changed, I loving love for ever.  
Tell me am I altered in mind or bodies frame?  
What then I was am I not still the same?  Per. 
Yes, yes, thou art the same both then and now  
As fair, more fair than heavens clearest brow.  Glau. 
What have I now deserved?  Per. 
In heaven to dwell:  
The purest star deserves not heaven so well.  Glau. 
Perindus, I am the same, ah I am she  
I was at first, but thou, thou art not he  
Which once thou wast.  Per. 
True, ah too true:  
Then was I happy being so distressed,  
And now most miserable by being blessed.  Glau. 
Tell me what thus hath changed thy former love,  
Which once thou swor'st nor heaven nor hell could move:  
How hath this scorn and hate stolen in thy heart  
And on a Comic stage, hast learned the art  
To play a tyrant, and a foul deceiver?  
To promise mercy, and perform it never?  
To look more sweet, masked in thy looks disguise,  
Than mercy's self, or pities gracious eyes.  Per. 
Fa, la, la, fa, la, la, lah.  Glau. 
Ah me most miserable.  Per. 
Ah me most miserable  Glau. 
Wretched Glaucilla, where hast thou set thy love!  
Thy plaints his joy, thy tears his laughter move,  
Senseless of these he sings at thy lamenting,  
And laughs at thy hearts tormenting.  
Wretched Glaucilla.  Per. 
More wretched Perindus,  
Where by refusing life, thou diest, for whom  
Thou livest, in whom thou drawst thy joy and breath,  
And to accept, thy life is more than death.  Glau. 
Perindus.  Per. 
Fa, la, la, fa, la, la, lah.  Exit Perindus.  

Scen. 2.  Glaucilla sola. 
Hapless and fond, too fond and hapless maid,  
Whose hate with love, whose love with hate is paid.  
Or learn to hate where thou hast hatred proved,  
Or learn to love again, where thou art loved,  
Thy love gets scorn: do not so dearly earn it,  
At least learn by forgetting to unlearn it.  
Ah fond and hapless maid, but much more fond  
Canst thou unlearn the lesson thou has con?  
Since then thy fixed love will leave thee never  
He hates thy love, leave thou his hate forever,  
And though his ice might quench thy love's desiring  
Live in his love and die in his admiring  
Olinda so late abroad? Enter Olinda,  
The sun is now at rest, heavens winking eyes  
All drowsy seem, love only rest denies:  
But thou art free as air, what is the reason?  
What glass is this?  Olin. 
Prithee Glaucilla  
Do not thus search my souls deep rankling wound  
Which thou canst never help when thou hast found.  Glau. 
Thy soul was wont to lodge within mine ear  
And ever, was it safely harboured there  
My ear is not acquainted with my tongue  
That either tongue or ear should do thee wrong  
Yet do not tell me, I'll thee. I spy  
Thy burning fever is thy tell-tale eye.  
Thou lov'st deny it not, thou lov'st Olinda  
In vain a chest to look up flames we seek  
Which now with purple fires thy blushing cheeks  Olin. 
thouart such a mistress in thy loving art  
That all in vain I hide my love sick heart  
And yet as vain to open't now 'tis hid.  Glau. 
Why so loves he another?  Olin. 
I would he did.  Glau. 
Strange wish in love, much rather had I die,  
Is he then perished?  Olin. 
Yes and with him I.  Glau. 
I prithee tell me all do not conceal it,  
I'll mourn with thee if that I cannot heal it.  Olin. 
Hear then and whosoe'er mayst be a bride  
Learn this of me to hate thy maiden pride.  
Atyches thou knowest?  Glau. 
Thy champion?  Olin. 
The same  
Almost a year since he came to this town  
When finding me fishing along the shore  
Silent he angles by me, till at length  
Seeing me take a starfish, and fling't away  
He straight demands why I refused that pray  
The cause I said was hate, he thus replied  
Alas poor fish how wretched is your fate  
When you are killed for love saved but for hate;  
Yet then that fish much worse the fisher swain  
Who for his love by hate is causeless slain,  Glau. 
Yet happier he that's slain by loves defying  
Then she in fate that lives yet ever dying  Olin. 
But soon as love he named, I straight was parting  
He holding me thus speaks; stay Nymph and hear  
I bring thee news which well deserves thine ear  
He which most loves thee and thou hatest most  
Thalander (at his name my guilty heart  
Ashamed of itself did in me start)  
He thus went on: Thalander's dead and dying  
By oath and all his love swore me to see thee  
With these few words: Thalander quite forsaken  
Would send to thee what thou from him haste taken  
All life and health, and ne'er his love removing  
Wishes thee a friend more happy and as loving  
And with this prayer these legacies he sends thee  
This pipe his mother Circe's gift, to bind  
With this soft whistle the loud whistling wind  
And with this pipe he left this precious ring  
Whose virtues covers a venomous tooth or sting  Glau. 
Thalander were we nothing like the other  
Only thy love would prove thou art my brother.  
Did not this move thee.  Olin. 
Glaucilla why should I lie  
I took them as spoils from a slain enemy,  
And for these gifts (says he) his last demand  
Was this, that I might kiss thy hand:  
The last, the only gift thou canst impart  
To such, so loving, and now dying heart  
I grant; be gone, upon the Ring I spy  
A Ruby cut most artificially,  
Wherein was framed a youth in fire consuming,  
And round within it as the Ring I turn,  
I found these words, Alive or dead, I burn.  Glau. 
These words well fit his heart, so you, so I  
Thalander living loves, and loving dies.  Olin. 
But oh those feigned flames, such strange desires,  
Such true, such lasting, never-quenched fires  
Have kindled in my breast, that all the Art  
Of triphon's self cannot allay my smart:  
Ah Glaucilla, than scornful proud Olinda;  
Which at so sweet a love a mockery made,  
Who scorned the true Thalander, loves his shade,  
Whose thousand graces living could not turn me,  
His ashes now he's dead to ashes, burn me.  Glau. 
If thus you love him, how canst thou allow  
Thy love to Atyches! late didst thou vow  
In Neptune's temple to be his for ever.  Olin. 
My hand he married there, my heart ah never.  
Glaucilla, I love him for his love to me,  
For such his venture, for such his victory,  
But most, because in love he is my rival,  
Because he's like and love, my Love Thalander.  
Ah, if my life will please him, let him take it,  
He gave it me and I would fain forsake it.  
Had it been mine to give, my wretched heart,  
Not worth his dangerous fight, I would impart  
But that is thine, Thalander thine for ever  
With me 'tis buried and arise shall never.  
And wherefore serves this glass?  Olin. 
This is a disamour Cosma lately gave me.  Glau. 
Olinda, know'st not yet the treachery  
Of Cosma, she thy greatest enemy?  
Prithee let me see't: shouldst thou this liquour prove,  
I tell thee, friend, 'twill quench thy life and love.  
But so I'll temper't, it shall better please thee,  
And after few spent hours shall ever ease thee.  Olin, 
'tis beyond art, who there can give relief.  
Where patients hate the cure, more than the grief?  Glau. 
Yes, by my art, before thouart 12 hours older,  
I'll ease thy heart, though never make it colder.  Exeunt.  

Scen. 3.  Enter Conchilio. Con. 
Glaucilla and Olinda? I mar'le what mettle  
What leaden earth and water nature put  
Into these Nymphs, as cold, as dull, as frozen  
As the hard rocks they dwell on! But my Mistress  
she's all quicksilver, never still, still moving,  
Now is she with some shepherd or some fisher,  
And here she sets me to entertain all comers:  
This is the hour her lover's use to muster.  
But who should this be? is't you, old boy? Enter Fredocaldo.  
Old ten i'th' hundred, are you the captain? boo,  Fred. 
Beshrew your heart, you are a very naughty boy,  
I shake every joint of me.  Con. 
No shaking palsy, nor cramp has ta'en possession  
Of your nimble limbs ha, ha, he.  Fred. 
Boy, where's thy Mistress?  Con. 
Where she would be.  Fred. 
Where's that?  Con. 
Where you would be,  Fred. 
What, in her bed?  Con. 
Ah old goat, do I smell you? yet in her bed?  Fred. 
May not I speak a word or two with her  Con. 
what a fool 'tis? thou hast spoken twice a already  Fred. 
I But I would speak them in her ear.  Can. 
I know your errand but I prithee tell me Fredocaldo  
How is't possible that all the bellows in love's father's shop  
Should kindle any fire in such a frost?  Fred. 
thou know'st not what is love, I tell thee boy  
I love fair Cosma more than all her lovers.  Con. 
Now in my conscience he says true, this old wood  
Makes a brighter fire than the greenest ever:  Fred. 
Conchylio thouart deceived, hast not seen  
That of thee May the lust of all the year  
Nipped with the hoary frost grows cold and chare?  
And oft October though the years declining  
With many dainty flowers is fairly shining  
For as the flaming sun puts out the fire  
So may the heat of love quench loves desires.  Con. 
Can this dotard do as well as speak, he might—  Fred. 
I tell thee boy, when I was young—  Con. 
That was at the siege of Troy  
Now shall we have, more tales than ever poets made  
But what will you give me Fredocaldo  
If I help thee in the rocky cave, near to the myrtle grove  
To speak with Cosma all alone.  Fred. 
If thou'lt do it, I'll give thee as fair an otter tamed for fishing as ever was in Sicily.  Con. 
Your hand on that: Ah old Saturn cold and dry we'll I'll do't  Fred 
But when Conchylio when?  Con. 
Within this hour expect her.  Fred. 
Wilt thou be sure.  Con. 
Why did I ever deceive you?  Fred: 
never never:  Con. 
believe me Fredocaldo I say believe me then.  Fred. 
Farewell; I'll keep my promise.  Con. 
Fail not within this hour: Exit Fredocaldoe.  
I know not what this old man's like, unless  
Our hill of Sicily the flaming AEtna:  
Whose parches bowels still in fire consuming  
Fills all the valley with flame and pitchy fuming.  
Yet on his top congealed snow doth lie  
As if there were not fire nor Phoebus nigh.  
Why should we count this strange? when even so  
This old man's heart's all fire, his head all snow?  
But what fresh soldier's this? Enter Armillus.  Ar. 
My pretty wag?  Con. 
Sure you do mistake me, sir, I am another's.  Ar. 
Thou dost mistake me, boy, I know well whose thou art.  Con. 
I doubt you do not.  Ar. 
thouart fair Cosma's boy.  Con. 
My mother told me so.  Ar. 
thouart a very wag, take this, my boy.  Con. 
True sir, now I am yours indeed; what! yellow? yours to command: what would you with me?  Ar. 
Seest thou!  Con. 
Yes I see very well.  Ar. 
Thou art too: quick I prithee let me see thy Mistress.  Con. 
Troth, sir, you cannot, she's taken up with other business, or rather taken down, yet I'll try sir. Exit,  Ar. 
Oft have I marvelled how the erring eye,  
Which of his proper object cannot lie,  
In other subject, fails so in his duty  
When he's to judge of's chiefest object beauty.  
None takes the night for day, the day for night.  
The Lilies seem alike to every sight:  
Yet when we partial judge of beauty's graces,  
Which are but colours placed in women's faces,  
The eye seems never sure the selfsame show  
And face, this thinks a swan, and that a crow.  
But sure our minds with strong affections tainted,  
Look through our eyes as through a glass that's painted.  
So when we view our loves, we never see  
What theyare, but what we fain would have them be.  
Thus Atyches. Perindus thus affecting  
These Nymphs, make them seem worthiest their respecting,  
And thus to love their beauties never move them:  
But therefore beauteous seem because they love them.  
methinks this Cosma far them both excels,  
In whose high forehead love commanding dwells.  
I like not this same too much modesty,  
Commend the Senate for their gravity.  
The wanton Nymph doth more delight me far,  
The modest Nymphs do more seem chaste than are,  
Women are all alike, the difference this,  
That seems and is not, that both seems and is.  
Or if some are not, as they call it, ill, Enter Conchylo.  
They want the power and means, but not the will.  Con. 
My Mistress as yet is so overlaid with sport or business, she cannot speak with you: may not I know your errand?  Ar. 
My errand boy is love.  Con. 
Love (umh) 'tis light enough, I shall carry it away: 'tis so short I shall remember it; but troth sir, another golden star this starless night dropped in my hand, may chance to give light to make my Mistress shine in your arms.  Ar. 
Hold thee boy, hold thee: will that content thee?  Con. 
Sir do you know the myrtle grove?  Ar. 
Yes well.  Con. 
Your star will conduct you thither straight, within this hour she'll meet you there.  Ar. 
How canst thou assure it?  Con. 
Trust me I'll procure it;  
Else never more let me see golden stars.  Ar. 
I'll try thee boy, 'tis but one misspent hour,  
If thou perform thy promise good Conchylio,  
Many such glittering nights shall shine on thee.  Con. 
If? make no question sir.  Ar. 
Farewell.  Con. 
Adieu. Exit.  
This strange new bird, this goose with golden eggs  
Must with some grain of hope be cherished,  
And yet not fed too fat; now for my Crab,  
Here's his twin, if heaven's signs are right. Enter Scrocca.  
Next to the crab, the twin must come in sight,  
I'll out and seek him.   

Scen. 4.  Scroeca, Cancrone. Scr. 
Sail home by land quotha? well, I'll have that saddle boat hung up for a monument in the temple of Odoxcom, hard by the everlasting shoes, and now to see the ill luck on't never more need of fish, a bounsing feast toward, umber of guests, not a whiting, not a haddock, not a cod-mop in the house: and in stead of catching fish, we must go fish for our nets, Cancrone, come along, along, along: the ork's dead and buried, the ork's dead and buried.  Can. 
ay but does not his ghost walk thereabout? within.  
On afore, I'll follow hintly-fintly, by the hobnails of Neptune horseshoes—  Scr. 
Nay if you swear, we shall catch no fish, what Cancrone, sneak you still? whoop, we shall fish fairly if your searmore be off: Enter Cancrone buttoning his coat.  
How now, what all in white?  Can. 
Seest not I am busified? dost thou think a man can button his coat and talk all at once?  Scr. 
My pretty sea-cob, why I prithee why in thy white?  Con. 
Ino triumph I Ino triumph I tell thee this is my triumphing suit, did not we vanquish the ork?  Scr. 
I hope so: too but all our fellow fishers say 'twas Atyches.  Can. 
Thus Atyches killed him alive, and we killed him dead.  Scr. 
I prithee on with thy gaberdine again.  Can. 
My old scaly slimy gaberdine? why, if I should fish in that, every fin would smell me.  Scr. 
Well, our nets are not above ground, what shall we do?  Con. 
Why then Sir, you must go seek them under ground.  Scr. 
Well Sir, you'll follow. Exit.  Can. 
Muddy Scrocca, canst thou not perceive Cancrone's inside by his new outside? my old ork apparel, my pitch patch poledavies had no good perfume for a sweet lover, as I now must be: but why a lover? because I mean to kill the next ork hand to hand; for my master's sister's sweetheart Ataches, because a lover, therefore an Ork-killer.  Enter Conchylio. Con. 
What? old crab tortoise? has the ork made you cast your shell?  Can. 
Fish me no fishing: I'm all for flesh.  Con. 
Thy lob hath learned that fishers keep no lent.  Can. 
Therefore thou blue-beard Neptune, and thou triumphing Triton, and thou watchet jacket Glaucus, Daucus, maucus', and all the rest of the salt fish gods, I denounce you all, and for your formable farewell, I do here reach forth to your dropping drivelling deities my love warm hand to kiss.  
So, have you done? Fie flapmouth. Conchylio spits in's hand.  
Triton, thou beslaverest me.  Con. 
O doughty loves! here's more game for my mistress's net, or rather for mine.  Can. 
Nothing but Venus' smock or Cupid's wing shall wipe it dry; surmount thy wagging wanton wing to me, god Cupid.  Con. 
Are you there? I Orkt you once, and now I'll fit you for a Cupid. Exit. Conchyl.  Can. 
methinks I am grown very eloquent already; thanks sweet love; O now for my master Perindus, he has a fine cross cut with's arms, and yet that Ork-catcher Ataches has a pestilence carriage on's pate: the Nymphs believe him partly: so, so, so. 
Now Cupid do I come to thee,  
To thee, upon my barehead knee:  
Knee never barehead yet before,  
Before it begged at thy door.   Enter Scrocca. with his nets. Scr. 
What? devout Cancrone knocking at Cupid's door?  Can. 
Ah Scrocca, thou hast corrupted the goodest verse! I was making my supplantation to Trusty Triton for good luck, and see if he have not heard me: our nets are returned.  Scr. 
He might well hear thee for this once: for thou dost not trouble him often. But if I had not looked to them better than he had, we might have gone whistle for them: come Cancrone, will you go?  Can. 
Yes I warrant you, I'll peradventure my person in a Cockboat.  Scr. 
Why then we'll take the galley foist.  Can. 
Go foist if you will, the burnt child dreads the water, and good men are scanty, make much of one, Cancrone.  Scr. 
Well, if you come, you shall have us at the red roche.  Can. 
Yes, I'll fish on land for mermaids. Exit.  
This dogfish had almost put me out of my love-lesson.  
Now to thee again, courteous Cupid.  
All sunk and soused in soppy love,  
Cupid for thy mother's dove  
Help. Enter Conchylio in Cupid's habit.  Con. 
All hail, Cancrone, according to thy wish I here am present great King of hearts, Duke of desires, Lord of love, whom mortals gentle Cupid do clepe.  Can. 
Be'st thou Cupid? thou art vile like our Conchylio.  Con. 
True, Cancrone, and lest the beams of my bright deity should with their lustre wound those infant eyes, I have vouchsafed in this form to appear, lo, thy Conchylio and thy Cupid here, what wouldst thou with me?  Can. 
I have a suit to your godship.  Con. 
So it be not your Ork-suite I embrace it: say on, my darling.  Can. 
I am in love as they say, but I cannot tell whom to be in love withal.  Con. 
Here are Nymphs enough, Urina, Olinda, Lilla, Glaucilla, Bobadilla,  Can. 
methinks that Boberdil sounds like a fine playfellow for me.  Con. 
No, I'll tell thee one, her name shall make thy mouth water.  Can. 
Make water in my mouth? that's Urina, I'll none of her, she's too high coloured.  Con. 
No, 'tis Cosma, the fisher's flame, the Shepherd's hope, whose beauty Pas admires.  Can. 
ay, but will you throw forth a good word for me?  Con. 
I tell thee I'll make her all to belove thee, she shall not rest till she meet thee here; but first I must arm thee with some magic charms.  Can. 
What be they? my chops would fain be champing them.  Con. 
First you must anagrammatise her name, then sympathize your own.  Can. 
Tize, zize, thize. I shall ne'er hit that.  Con. 
For an anagram I'll fit you: Cosma a smock.  Can. 
Pretty.  Con. 
For the sympathy of your own name but thus, your name Cancrone bids you counterfeit the counter-creeping crab; and go backward to her.  Can. 
Do I look like a crab? I had rather go forward to a Nymph.  Con. 
Thirdly, because every fisher is borne under Pisces, therefore the sign is in the foot with you: you must come therefore with one foot bare.  Con. 
ay but shall I not catch cold and cough and spoil my part?  Can. 
It must be the right foot: and then seest thou this myrtle tree? all my arrows are made of the wood of it, thou must in her sight get up and gather the highest bough of it.  Con. 
ay but what shall I do with the bough?  Con. 
O the bough? why, setting thus a pretty while, you must wrap a cockle garland about it, and then when the poor lass melts and consumes with thy love—  Can. 
Then I'll throw it at her, & come down to her, shall I not?  Con. 
Excellent well, I see thou art inspired.  Can. 
Nay I can take it, if you put it to me.  Con. 
But the just nick when thou must throw it is, when she says I die, I cry, I lie.  Can. 
I die, I cry, I lie. I would have her lie, but not die, but will you make her come indeed?  Con. 
I and in her best clothes too.  Can. 
Nay 'tis no such matter for clothes, but what must I say? I had almost forgot it.  Con. 
Nothing but a short charm, which I'll teach you as we go on afore, I'll follow you.  Can. 
Let me see: backward?  Con. 
Blockhead.  Can. 
bareleg?  Con. 
Beetlepate.  Can. 
Cockleshell?  Con. 
coxcomb.  Can. 
Boughs?  Con. 
Bussard.  Can. 
The town's ours. I no triumph I no triumph  Con. 
I'll cool my hot lover, he shall sit on a perch for a stale, now must I be uncupidate, & shortly appear here Cosmafied, it shall be hard but with the same limetwig I'll catch a bigger bird than this. 
First I will serve myself, my mistress after;  
My bait is seeming love, my prey true laughter.    

Scen. 5.  Enter Pas solus. 
What art, strength, wit can tame a fish or fly?  
The least of creatures used to liberty,  
With loss of life shake off base captive chains,  
And with restraint all life disdains.  
But I, ah fool, yield up myself a slave,  
And what they shun, by death do basely crave:  
My grief more than my folly, who deplore  
That which all others use to wish before:  
My love loves too too much too many,  
For while she liketh all, she loves not any.  
Love, let my prayers yet thus far only move thee,  
Let me her falsely, or she truly love me. Enter Cosma.  
See where she comes; and that so bright a sun  
Should have no sphere, no certain race to run:  
I'll stand and overhear her.  Cos. 
I can but smile to think how foolish wise  
Those women are, that choose their loves for wisdom.  
Wisdom in men's a golden chain to tie  
Poor women in a glorious slavery.  Pas. 
Hark Heavens! O monstrous! hark. O women, women.  Cos. 
Fond men, that blame the love that ever ranges  
To foul and sluttish love, that never changes.  
The Muses love by course, to change their meeter,  
Love is like linen often changed, the sweeter.  Pas. 
Thus these neat creatures, dead with love and all,  
By shunning beastliness, make it bestial.  Cos. 
Our beauty is our good, the cause of love:  
Fond that their good toth' best will not improve;  
What Husbandman neglects his time of sowing?  
What fisher loseth winds, now fairly blowing?  
Beauty our good: ah good, ah short and brittle,  
A little little good, for time as little,  
How easy dost thou slide, and pass away?  
Unborn, full grown, and buried in a day.  
Thy spring is short, and if thou now refuse it,  
'tis gone, when fain thou wouldst, thou shalt not use it.  
The time and every minute daily spends thee.  
Spend thou the time, while time fit leisure lends thee.  Pas. 
Does she not blush? hark, women, here's your preacher,  
Maids, you want a Mistress; here's a teacher.  Cos. 
Now since Conchylio spoke of this Armillus,  
My new found lover, I half long to try him:  
Too cruel she that makes her hearts contenting,  
To see a heart languish in loves tormenting.  
What though i'th' night we live most wantonly?  
I' th' morn with clothes we put on modesty.  
Thus though we sport, and wanton all the night  
Next sun I'll act a part of fear and fright.  Pas. 
Modesty? marry guipp: these are your modest creatures.  Cos. 
Long have I hated Olinda, and Glaucilla,  
And one of them by this hath drunk her last,  
The next shall follow ere the next day's past.  
The gin is laid, and if it hit aright,  
This is her last, this her eternal night.  
Perindus long I have long loved, whoever scorned me,  
Because he loves Glaucilla; I know he'll grieve:  
But when the tempest once is overblown,  
hoist up all sails; the prize is sure mine own.  
Ill for a woman is that woman placed,  
Who like old janus, is not double faced.  
Now to Armillus who sure expects me.  
How dark the night? more fit for lover's play.  
The darkest night is lover's brightest day. Exit Cosma.  Pas. 
Well Mistress jana with your double face,  
I think I shall outface you by and by.  
I'll fit you for a face i'fayth, I could be mad now.  
Well, since you are sportive, I'll make one i'th' play;  
You have a fool already, I'll act a Devil;  
And since you needs must to a new consort,  
I'll bear a part, and make or mar the sport.  Enter Perindus.  

Scen. 6.  Perindus Pas. Per. 
Atyches?  Pas. 
No: Pas.  Per. 
If thou seest Atyches, send him hither friend; Exit Pas.  
Of all the plagues that torture souls in hell,  
Tantal, thy punishment doth most excel.  
For present goods, thy evil most express,  
Making thee unhappy in thy happiness.  
Such are my pains: my blessedness torments me,  
I see, and may enjoy what more torments me.  
My life than love, I rather would forsake,  
Yet for my life, my love I dare not take.  
Glaucilla, couldst thou see this wretched breast,  
What torments in it never resting rest,  
Whom now thou thinkst the cause of all thy grieving,  
Than thou wouldst judge the wretchedst creature living.  
She's here. Enter Glaucilla.  Glau. 
Perindus, whither goest thou? the day's enough  
To show thy scorn, the night was made for rest.  
For shame if not for love, let night relieve me:  
Take not that from me, which thou wilt not give me.  
know'st thou this place? even here thou first didst vow,  
Which I believe, and still methinks even now  
Cannot unbeliev't, that when thy constant heart,  
From his first only vowed love should start,  
These waving seas should stand, whose rocks remove  Per. 
Fa, la, la, fa, la, la, lah.  Glau. 
O dancing levity, you steady rocks,  
Still stand you still? his faith he lightly mocks.  
Ye fleeting waves, why do you never stand?  
His words, his love, his oaths, are writ in sand.  
In rocks and seas I find more sense and loving,  
The rock less hard than he, the sea less moving.  Per. 
Didst never see the rocks in sailing move?  Glau. 
Not move, but seem me to move.  Per. 
My picture right.  Glau. 
What says Perindus?  Per. 
Ha, ha, he, how scurvily grief laughs!  Glau. 
Perindus, by all the vows I here conjure thee;  
The vow that on thy soul thou didst assure me,  
Tell me why thus my love thou false refusest?  
Why me thy faith thyself thou thus deceivest?  Per. 
Ay me.  Glau. 
How fares my love?  Per. 
Ah Glaucilla.  Glau. 
I know thou canst not hate me.  Per. 
I cannot hate, but laugh, and dance and sport,  
This is not hate, Glaucilla, 'tis not hate.  Glau. 
Canst thou Perindus thus delude me?  
I've lived enough, farewell: thou last hast viewed me.  Per. 
Glaucilla?  Glau. 
How canst thou speak that hated name?  Per. 
Stay:  Glau. 
To be mocked?  Per. 
Stay, I'll tell thee all.  Glau. 
methinks this forced mirth does not beseem thee:  
Sure 'tis not thine, it comes not from thy heart.  Per. 
Glaucilla, call back thy wish, seek not to know  
Thine or my death, thou winst thine overthrow.  Glau. 
Thy grief is common, I have my part in thine:  
Take not that from me which is justly mine.  Per. 
if I had any joy, it were thine own,  
But grant me to be wretched all alone.  Glau. 
Now all thy grief is mine, but it unhiding,  
Half thou wilt take away, by half dividing.  Per. 
Thou seekst my love, it is my love to hide it,  
And I shall show more hate, when I divide it.  Glau. 
Thy love thus hid, to me much hatred proves,  
Unhide thy hate, this hate will show it loves:  Per. 
Glaucilla, while my griefs untouched rest,  
My better part seems quiet in thy breast.  Glau. 
So thou art well, but still my better part,  
Perindus, sinks all loaden with his smart:  
So thou my finger cut'st, and woundst my heart.  Per. 
Since then thou wilt not give me leave to hide it,  
Briefly 'tis thus: when thou thy love hadst vowed me  
Most sure, but yet no certain time allowed me;  
My marriage day as all my good desiring,  
To proteus' Cell I went, the time enquiring,  
There heard these words, the cause of all my sadness,  
The cause of all my seeming hate and gladness.  
Thus went th' Oracle.  
The day, that thou with grief so long forbearest,  
Shall bring thee what thou wishest most and fearest.  
Thy sister's grave shall be her marriage bed,  
In one self day twice dying, and once dead.  
Thy friend, whom thou didst ever dearest choose,  
In losing thou shalt find, in finding loose.  
And briefly to conclude the worst at last,  
Thou, or thy Love shall from a rock be cast.  
Glaucilla, had thy love but with my life been prized,  
My life t'enjoy thy love I had despised.  
But since it may be thine, thy life destroying,  
Shall ne'er be given for my love's enjoying:  
Much rather, let me live in fires tormenting,  
Then with such purchase buy my hearts contenting.  Glau. 
Then love's the cause of all thy seeming hate,  
What hast thou seen in me, that I should seem,  
My life more than thy love, or mine esteem?  
Perindus thy hate hath cost me often dying,  
So hast thou given me death, by death denying:  
For th' Oracle, with death I am contented,  
And will not fear, what cannot be prevented.  Per. 
Yet though such mischief Proteus did divine,  
Much better sped I at my father's shrine:  
Coming to Delphos, where the Pythian maid  
Told me my wishes should be fully paid  
And that within few days I should arrive  
Through many bitter storms, into the hive.  Glau. 
Why doubtst thou then? adieu love till tomorrow,  
Next rising sun shall to thee ease thy sorrow.  Per. 
mayst thou prove true, or if heaven bade decree  
The good be thine, light all the bad on me.  Glau. 
Farewell. Exit.  
Thou givest Glaucilla what thou wishest good rest.  
This victory my mind hath whole possessed,  
And from my eyes shuts out all sleep and rest:  
If I but slumber, straight my fancy dreams,  
This Atyches is much more than he seems:  
Coming to his couch, I found his empty bed  
As yet untouched, himself from sleep is fled.  
But soft, whom have we here? Enter Atyches.  Atych. 
The Ox now feels no yoke, all labour sleeps,  
The soul unbent, this as her playtime keeps,  
And sports itself in fancies winding streams,  
Bathing his thoughts in thousand winged dreams.  
The fisher tired with labour, snorteth fast,  
And never thinks of pains to come or passed,  
Only love waking rest and sleep despises,  
Sets later than the sun, and sooner rises.  
With him the day as night, the night as day,  
All care, no rest, all work, no holy-day  
How different from love is lover's guise!  
He never opes, they never shut their eyes.  Per. 
Ha: this is he, I'll stand and overhear him.  Atych. 
So: I am alone, there's none but I,  
My grief, my love, my wonted company,  
And which best fits a grieved lover's sprite,  
The silent stars and solitary night.  
Tell me heavens sentinels that compass round  
This ball of earth, on earth was never found  
A love like mine, so long, so truly served,  
Whose wage is hate, have all my pains deserved  
Contempt? mine and her; for she dear affected:  
The more I loved, the more I was neglected.  
Since thou canst love where thou hast hatred proved,  
Olinda, how canst thou hate where thou art loved?  
Thy body is mine by conquest, but I find,  
Thy body is not always with thy mind.  
Give both or none, or if but one, o'th' two  
Give me thy mind, and let thy body go.  
If this without thy mind I only have,  
What giv'st thou more to me then to thy grave?  
Prove me, my dear, what canst thou hate in me?  
Unless my love, my love still bent on thee?  
My name's Thalander, perhaps it doth displease thee,  
I will refuse my name, if that may ease thee.  
Thalander to exile we'll still confine,  
And I'll be Atyches, so I be thine.  Per. 
Thalander? is't possible? I oft suspected  
How he is altered! not himself! is't possible?  Aty. 
Yet what thou hat'st, thy brother loves as well.  
Tell me, my dearest love, what have I done?  
What has Thalander done? ah tell me.  Per. 
More  
Than thousand such as she can ne'er restore,  
Thalander; start not; how have my eyes deceived me?  
Ah, let me bless my arms with thy embraces.  
My dear, Thalander, my only life, my heart,  
My soul, O of my soul the better part.  
Is't thee I hold; I scarce dare trust mine eyes,  
Which thus deceived me by their former lies.  Aty. 
Thou welcom'st misery while thine arms enfold me.  Per. 
I am the blessedst man that lives to hold thee.  
My heart doth dance to find thee.  Aty. 
Ah Perindus,  
When lest thou thinkst, thou art deceived most,  
myself, my love, my labour I have lost,  
When I have lost myself, to find my love.  Per. 
In losing of thy fame, thoust found  
She loves thee friend most dearly,  
And though she thought thy love would be her death,  
Yet for and in thy love, she'd lose her breath,  
And nothing else should grieve her in the end  
She had one life for such a love to spend.  Aty. 
Do not deceive me.  Per. 
Why shouldst thou mistrust me?  Aty. 
Perindus, my joy, by too much joy enjoying,  
I feel not half my joy, by overjoying.  Per. 
herself shall speak it. Come, let's go.  Aty. 
'Tis night!  Per. 
she'll think it day, when thou art in her sight.  Aty. 
Lead me, for yet my mind, too much affected  
To have it so, makes truth itself suspected.  Exeunt, 

CHORUS.  
Love is the fire, dam, nurse, and seed  
Of all that air, earth, waters breed.  
All these earth, water, air, fire,  
Though contraries, in love conspire.  
Fond painters: love is not a lad,  
With bow, and hafts, and feathers clad;  
As he is fancied in the brain  
Of some loose loving idle swain,  
Much sooner is he felt then seen,  
His substance subtle, slight and thin,  
Oft leaps he from the glancing eyes,  
Oft in some smooth mount he lies,  
Soonest he wins, the fastest flies:  
Oft lurks he 'twixt the ruddy lips,  
Thence while the heart his Nectar sips,  
Down to the soul the poison slips,  
Oft in a voice creeps down the ear,  
Oft hides his darts in golden hair,  
Oft blushing cheeks do light his fire,  
Oft in a smooth soft kin retires,  
Often in smiles, often in tears;  
His flaming heat in water bears,  
When nothing else kindles desire,  
Even virtues self shall blow the fire:  
Love with thousand darts abounds,  
Surest and deepest virtue wounds,  
Oft himself becomes a dart,  
And love with love, doth love impart.  
Thou painful pleasure, pleasing pain,  
Thou gainful life, thou losing gain:  
Thou bitter sweet, easing disease,  
How dost thou by displeasing please?  
How dost thou thus bewitch the heart?  
To love in hate, to joy in smart.  
To think itself most bound, when free,  
And freest in his slavery.  
Every creature is thy debtor,  
None but loves, some worse, some better:  
Only in love, they happy prove,  
Who love what most deserves their love.     

Act. 4.  

Scen. 1.  Enter Perindus and Thalander. Per. 
BE patient.  Aty. 
Yes, I am patient,  
And suffer all, while all heaven's ills are spent.  Per. 
You give yourself to grief.  Aty. 
Senseless and mad.  
Who in much grief, is not extremely sad?  Per. 
Alas sir, she was mortal, and must die.  Aty. 
True, true, and could the fates no time espy  
But this? to me she never lived till now,  
And now Perindus? now! oh—  Per. 
She was my sister!  Aty. 
Alas, thy sister!  
She was my life, my soul, she was my love,  
She was— words know not what she was to me:  
She was— thou most accursed word of be.  Per. 
Be comforted.  Tha. 
Perindus, the very name of comfort, is most comfortless  
Comfort, joy, hope, lived in her cheerful smiling,  
And now must die, or live in far exiting.  
Comfort, joy, hope, for ever I deny you,  
And would not name you now but to defy you.  Per. 
Sir, with more patience you have often borne  
Far greater evils.  Tha. 
Perindus, do not say so,  
If thou yet love me, prithee do not say so:  
Was ever ill as this? hell's breviary,  
All torment in this narrow space is laid,  
The worst of all, in these two words are said:  
Olinda dead? dead! whither dost thou lead me?  
Why, I can go alone, alone can find  
The way I seek, I see it best when blind.  
I prithee leave me.  Per. 
Thalander, I'll not leave thee,  
Should heaven with thunder strike these arms that clasp thee,  
My dying hands should but more firmly grasp thee.  Tha. 
Thou violat'st thy love in thy mistaking,  
And clean forsakest thy friend, in not forsaking  
Olinda: I cannot come, they here enchain me.  
But neither can, nor shall they here detain me.  
I'th' mean time, all the honour I can give thee,  
Is but a grave, that sacred rock, the place  
Of my conception, and my burial:  
Since Hymen will not, death shall make thee mine,  
If not my marriage, my deathbed shall be thine.  Exeunt.  

Scen. 2.  Enter Rimbombo. 
Farewell ye mountains, and thou burning AEtna,  
If yet I do not bear thee in my breast,  
And am myself, a living walking AEtna,  
The Nymphs that on you dwell, are too coy,  
Too coy and proud, more fierce than rob tiger  
More deaf than seas, and more inflexible  
Than a grown ork, false, flattering, cruel, crafty,  
And which most grieves me, when I would embrace them,  
Swifter than chased deer, or dogs that chase them,  
You heavens, what have we poor men deserved,  
That you should frame a woman, I and make her  
So comely and so needful? why should you clothe them  
With so fine a shape? why should you place  
Gold in their hair, allurement in their face?  
And that which most may vex us, you impart  
Fire into their burning eyes, ice to their heart.  
Why sweeten you their tongues with sugared charms  
And force men love, and need their greatest harms?  
And most of all, why do you make them fleet?  
Minds as the winds, and wings upon their feet?  
Of hundred women that I know,  
But one deserves to be a woman:  
Whom better heavens have not made more fair,  
Then courteous, loving, kind, and debonair:  
She, when she used our Mountains, oft would stay,  
And hear me speak, and vow, and swear, and pray.  
Here I have learned, she haunts along these shores:  
Within these rocky cliffs I'll hide myself,  
Till fit occasion, if she have changed her mind,  
Then safely may I curse all women. kind. Exit.   

Scen. 3.  Enter Armillus. 
Love, without thee, all life is tedious,  
Without thee, there's no sweet, no joy, no life;  
Thou first gav'st life, and still with new succession,  
Continuest what thou gav'st, with sweet enticements,  
Taming the strongest rebellion, thy weapons women,  
Whom thou so framest, that proudest men are glad,  
Beaten with them, gently to kiss the rod.  
Either my weighty passions pull too fast  
The wheel of time, or else the hour is past:  
But this is she, or I mistake it.  Enter Cosma. Cos. 
Women that to one man their passions bind,  
As this man altars, so altars still their mind:  
Thus ever change they, as those changing fairs,  
And with their lovers still their love impairs:  
But I, when once my lovers change their graces,  
Affect the same, though now in other faces:  
Thus now my mind is firm, and constant proved,  
Seeing I ever love, what first I loved.  
Who blames the speedy heaven, for ever ranging?  
love's fiery, winged, light, and therefore changing.  Ar. 
True, fairest Nymph, Love is a fire still burning,  
And if not slaked, the heart to ashes turning.  Cos. 
If I could scold, sir you might be chidden,  
For coming to my thoughts before y'are bidden.  Ar. 
Blame me not (Sweet) thy words do fan thy fires,  
And cool the flames which thy fair eye inspires.  Cos. 
The fire so lately applied, so lately framed?  
methinks, green wood should not be yet inflamed.  Ar. 
love's flame is not like earth's, but heaven's fire,  
Like lightning, with a flash it lights desire.  Cos. 
I love not lightning: lightning love that flashes  
Before't be all on fire, will be all ashes.  Ar. 
Gather the fruit than while 'tis yet unblasted.  Cos. 
Is't worth the gathering? is it pleasing tasted?  Ar. 
Take say of this. kisses her.  
Monster?  Enter Pas offering to kiss on the other side, disguised like a fury. Cos. 
Help ho.  Exeunt Armil. Cos. several ways.  

Scen. 4.  Pas. Fredocaldo. Pas. 
The do was almost struck, 'twas time I came,  
For once I'll be a keeper of the game.  
I see 'tis Owl-light, Minerva's waggoner, Enter Fred.  
My old rival, who this twenty years  
Saw nothing but what shined through glass windows,  
What comes he for? I'll stay a while and watch him.  Fred. 
Most happy age that shall be crowned with love  
Of thy love, Cosma: I am not as I seem,  
Farewell old age, I now am young again  
And feel not ages, but a lover's pain,  
In love I dare adventure with the best,  
Old beaten soldiers are the worthiest:  
If all my rivals heard I could dare them,  
If furies should outfront me, I'd outstare them. Pas runs upon him, he falls and lies.  Exit. Pas. Enter Conchylio in his Mistress's apparel. Con. 
How well my Mistress Cosma's clothes do fit me?  
What pity 'twas, I was not made a woman?  
I think I should have made a pretty Nymph: ha?  
I could have been a pitiful creature,  
And yet perhaps, a good unhappy wench.  
Cosma by this hath met with her Armillus  
And sports herself: could I meet Fredocaldo,  
I should have sport enough: She stumbles at Fred.  
What Fredocaldo dead? courage, man.  Fred. 
I had a fearful dream and scarce am waken.  Con. 
Come shake off dreams, sleep is not fit for lovers,  
we'll to the rocky cave.  Fred. 
My sun? my fire?  Con. 
But Fredocaldo, can you think that fire  
Can love cold water, the sun can frost desire?  Fred. 
I tell thee fairest Cosma, those fair eyes  
Bring back my spring:  
Wrong not thyself, dear love, so fair a day  
Cannot but make midwinter turn to May.  
Cold rheums I feel not, no frost's locked in this chest  
Thy love begets a summer in my breast.  Con. 
Fie Fredocaldo:  
Not in the open air.  Exeunt  

Scen. 5.  Armillus. Cosma Ar. 
Venus furies haunt this grove? is not this Cosma?  
Yes: here again she comes most blessed heavens, Enter Cosma  
I see that ye are more gracious then Hell's spiteful.  
Cosma?  Cos. 
Armillus.  Ar. 
My love.  Cos. 
Sure thou hast done some cruel murder,  
And the unexpiate ghost thus haunts thee.  Ar. 
I never thought it, Cosma: rather some power of these woods,  
Too envious of my good hap, and jealous of thy favour,  
Thus crosses our desires but if again  
He chance to interpose his horrid face,  
I'll rather die, then leave thy wished embrace. Enter Pas disguised.  
All hell and furies haunt us. Exit Ar.  Pas. 
Well overtaken, Nymph, start not, you are sure,  
See I am your familiar.  Cos. 
Beshrew your heart for thus affrighting me.  Pas. 
Do you not blush to cast your love upon a man,  
Whose love is as himself an alien? to thine own  
Thou mak'st thee strange, familiar to unknown.  Cos 
Pish, thou art foolish, did I ever bind thee to me  
Only? why shouldst thou then confine me  
To thy sole passion? so oft before  
You men have changed, that you can change no more:  
From bad to worse, from worse, to worst of all:  
There lie you now, and can no lower fall:  
And as you wished that we should never rove,  
We pray as fast, that you at length could move.  
Cease then for shame to rail at women's ranging:  
When men begin, women will leave their changing.  
Farewell.  Pas. 
Nay soft, I am dog well bitten,  
And will not part so easily with my prey,  
I have not tasted venison many a day.  Cos. 
I cannot well deny thee, 'tis thy right:  
Thou well hast purchased it, this be thy right.  Exeunt.  

Scen. 6.  Conchilio. Con. 
Ha, ha, he: this old dry stubble, how it cracks i'th' burning! alas poor sapless oak: 'tis time 'twere down, I stayed till he was ready, all unready, but when he 'gan to put on his spectacles, away slipped I: he'll do my mistress little hurt. Spectacles! hah, ha, he! now for my loving Lobster, this is his time; and if the Cyclops too do keep his promise, O what rare compound of mirth I'll make, while the one with shame, the other with fear I'll take!  
The fish comes already to the net. Enter Cancrone, going backward upon her. He looks over his shoulders.  Can. 
To all I speak, but I tell no man,  
Whether I love Nymph or woman.  Con. 
Tell not me, but tell the rocks,  
Not words must disciple you but knocks.  
I am out of your debt for a rhyme.  Can. 
I think she knew my cue,  
The charm begins to work already.  Con. 
I know not how this fisher's hook hath caught me,  
I ever for his rudeness love him: 'tis the badge of innocency.  Can. 
Somewhat rude if you will, but innocent in your face.  Con. 
O those glearing eyes that dart the beams,  
The beams that drowned my heart with fiery streams.  Can. 
Now to Cupid's arrow tree, and she sinks downright condoling; Cosma, I have pity on thee, but it beseems a man of my confession, to have a negligent care of his good reparation abroad in the world and elsewhere; I would be loath to be seen in my love-work, I'll mount the tree and scry the coast. He goes up the tree.  Con. 
Stay not, but come again thyself, sweet heart, to receive me.  Can. 
O ho, here's abundance of people, abundance a lookers on, I dare not love thee before them all, we'll into the myrtle grove present.  Con. 
Quickly return, my love, return Cancrone my dearest.  Can. 
Stand forth Cosma, and say on till thou come to that, I cry, I die, I lie.  Con. 
I spy him now approaching, Enter Rimbombo .What though he be all rags in his limbs? what though his gesture taste of violence? we Nymphs, they say, like not such wooers worst.  Rim. 
Thou speakest of thy Rimbombo, that myrtle groves which love the winding shores, deserve to be to Venus consecrate, as faster friends to lovers, than the woods and caves of all the Mounts of Sicily, whose Nymphs do coily shun and mock our troops,  Con. 
you come somewhat before your time, Rimbombo,  
And Yet in love prevention is no crime:  
Lovers may come before, not out of time.  
And truly I wish, y''had come a little sooner.  
even now a mongrel crabbed fisher swain  
Laid siege to this unconquered fort.  Rim. 
What wight of bravest blood by sea and land dares share with me in Cosma's love? by Polypheme my sea-bred fire I vow, the sand on which he treads, is not so small, as shall this pestle make his pounded bones.  Con, 
Nay now he treadeth not upon these sands, but is fled up to the hills, and shortly thence will of himself come tumbling down to me.  Rim. 
I would he durst: I never yet but once did taste of fisher's blood, 'tis jolly sweet: come fisher, this way or that way I am for you at both weapons, club or teeth: let's to the grove, see, every myrtle tree bids war to fisher's peace, and joy to me. Why weeps my Cosma? Sweet, fear not that which thou desirest.  Con. 
Sweet Cyclops, meanst thou to ravish me?  Rim. 
O heavens thine own appointed time and place, thine, own sweet Cyclops, and can ravishment?—  Con. 
Why this know; we Nymphs that long live chaste, and wear our girdle of virginity— but lo, Diana stops my tongue, she bends her deadly bow, I dare not.  Rim. 
Speak on, here's none but trees, and thy trusty true Rimbombo.  Con. 
By that bright flame which like one only sun gives day toth' sphere of thy majestic face, I thee adjure, that thou disclose to none this sacred mystery.  Rim. 
Not: to my mother: no not in my dream: say on  Con. 
we neither yield, nor take in love delight,  
Until our girdle first be once unplight  
By lovers' hands, and then about his waist,  
By our own hands the same be tied fast.  
Now all is out.  Rim. 
A pretty piece of work, my hands do their office nimbly  
I have unfettered thee, come put this sweet yoke on me.  Con. 
Nay turn about, it must be tied contrary to other girdles, just behind. Stand nearer to me, yet near.  Rim. 
As close as thou wilt, Cosma; I would your filthy fisher saw us now, 't would make his teeth water.  Con. 
Hang him stinking Lobster, he dares not look upon any of thy kin: his haddock eyes would start out of his head, if he should see but one hair of Rimbombo's head.  Rim. 
How long wilt thou be tying me?  Con. 
The more knots I tie, the faster will my love be to you: but you'll be prating of this secret, when you come home among your mounting Nymphs.  Rim. 
If I do, then geld me: hast thou done?  Con. 
I have but three knots to tie: they are all true knots.  Rim. 
When thou hast done, prithee come kiss me, Cosma, Conchylio steals away, leaving him bound to the tree where Cancrone is .I see thou art a pure virgin, thou never didst this office before, thou art no quicker at it. What Cosma? what? no Cosma! what a wooden wench? here's a true love knot with a witness. O faithless Cosma! O witless Rimbombo! O Nymph! O fishers! O shepherds! O Satyrs! O Cyclops!  Enter Conchylio again. Con. 
Ha, ha ha: O love! O wit! O tree! O girdle! O platterface!  
O oyster eyes!  Rim. 
Thou bitch, thou witch, thou spawn of a mermaid.  Con. 
Thou AEtna, thou Chaos, thou Hell: nay tug and tug, my virginity is tough and strong enough: O for, some Nymphs fishers or shepherds to bait this ork. I'll out and call in some bandog: so ho, so ho, ho, ho. Exit.  Rim. 
The knots are so many, the girdle so strong, and the tree stands so fast. O anger! O shame! here she'll bring in all the country to laugh me to death, hide yet thy face with some of these lower boughs.  Enter Conchylio. Con. 
So ho, so ho: O dogged fortune! not one Nymph to be found not one feat fisher! not one: but that feating fisher that is ready to wing his sea token net on the Cyclops blockhead.  Rim. 
Away thou monstrous woman, oh, oh.  Con. 
Away thou monstrous man's ah ha heigh.  Rim. 
How now! what's that? what, have I another witness of my folly? what gobbet of man's flesh grows upon this tree?  Con. 
I'll have a graft of this myrtle tree, it bears fine love worms, on the stock, a maggot would up in a Cobweb, on the bough a barnacle, which ere long will fall and turn to a goose: now Cupid's gosling, now on your barehead knee, go beg at Cupid's door.  Can. 
Ah cursed Cupid, I'll no more of thy service, I had rather fight with nine orks, ha, hei, au.  Rim. 
Come down thou fished bit; my mouth shall catch thee. Gentle Cosma, I'll forgive thee all, & love thee yet, if thou wilt help to reach my walking stick; I'll make my young Ork-catcher believe he shall be his grandsires heir.  Con. 
Your staff? marry and shalt, it's a pretty pole to bang those boughs withal, and when thou dost it, do but gape, and that rotten plum will fall into thy mouth.  Can. 
Nay, I know of old I should be devoured.  Con. 
Thy staff, Rimbombo, is not for a weak Nymph to lift.  Rim. 
Yet a little more to this hand: Oh oh, my shoulder's thunderstruck! 
While Rimbombo reaches for his staff, Cancrone leaps on's back, and lies on the ground.  O coward jove, to strike me on the back, but waste our fisher lubber? is he escaped our hands?  Con. 
Why Cancrone, rise, I'll help thee.  Can. 
Good Charon carry me over gently, my bones are sore, and your boat side so hard.  Con. 
Give me thy hand, I'll waft thee.  Can. 
I tell thee Charon, I have nothing to give thee for ferriage, I'll help to row, I have been a poor fisher while I lived  Rim. 
I would I were there too, but that I should sink Charon's boat with a tree at my back.  Con. 
Why valorous Cancrone, view thyself and me thy captive Cosma, we are conquerors, behold our enemies in fetters fast bound.  Can. 
Am I alive indeed? methought this leg hung out of Charon's boat i'th' water, did I tie the ork there; Cancrone. Come captain, let's go triumphing to the temple. rises up.  Con. 
Nay, the Ork's dead and buried, this is the second fatal for the Cyclops.  Can. 
Is he safe? I'll make side-slops on him. I lay studying how to deal with him upon equal terms: come if thou darest, thou sea-bred brat of Polyphemes sine, you that would lick your lips at sweet fisher's blood! sweet fisher's blood! mark that Cosma: I hope you think so too.  Rim. 
Sweet fisher, I will turn thy net maker if thou wilt undo me.  Can. 
No, it shall ne'er be said that I was the undoing of any man by net-making, and beside, I have forsworn the muddy trade.  Con. 
Cancrone where's thy spirit? this is that pocketed up thy grandsire in his wide entrails.  Can. 
methought, when I was on the tree, his breath smelled of fish, my stomach even foamed at him. Now then, sir Bompelo, as that ork mouth of thine did crumb thy porridge with my grandsires brains, and then gave him his death's wound too, so will I first mince out thy scald-pate bones, and give thy flesh to a fisher's boy for haddock's meat, & then, O then I will geld thee, that thou never shalt run rutting after the Nymphs. How lik'st thou this?  Rim. 
Shame and scorn make me silent.  Con. 
Nay, I will tell thee fitter vengeance, use him, as sage Ulysses did his father Polypheme.  Can. 
That same Foolishes had a pole-cat head, I mean to mitigate him: he was something, as it were about branding a huge stone in a cave, in a goat skin with Polyphemes when the firebrand was asleep.  Con. 
ay, ay, in the cave we branded out Polyphemes eye, when he was asleep, and you must imitate him there take his own staff, and make it an extinguisher for that glazing lamp.  Rim. 
This sport I like worst of all: help, gods of the woods.  Can. 
I'll blow the coal while you take your aim, but will your virginity hold him fast?  Con. 
I warrant you it has been tried, come be thou my rest, I'll tilt on thy shoulders.  Can. 
Raunt tara, rant taunt: & Cancrone falls, and his dagger from him in the Cyclops reach .I shall make you stumble, let me Come hindermost.  Con. 
O your vineyard, the enemy hath seized on't.  Can. 
'Tis no matter, he'll hardly make it fly out of the Eelskin, it hath seen no sun this five quarters of a year I am sure.  Con. 
I hope the salt breath of the sea hath sealed it up.  Can. 
O Cosma, 'tis out, let us out too.  Con. 
O Cancrone, lo thy Cosma, Cupid, and Conchilio. Cyclops, blame not this my supposed sex, no Nymph, but lad hath caught thee in this snare. Exit.  Rim. 
The greater shame, and fouler scorn to me.  
Up to the hill, Rimbombo fly this shore,  
And never deal with fisher-Nymph-lad more. Exit.  

CHORUS,  
This his wives quick fate lamenting,  
Orpheus sat his soul tormenting:  
While the speedy wood came running,  
And rivers stood to hear his cunning  
The hares ran with the dogs along,  
Not from the dogs, but to his song:  
But when all his verses turning,  
Only framed his poor hearts burning:  
Of the higher powers complaining,  
Down he went to hell disdaining:  
There his silver Lute-strings hitting,  
And his potent verses fitting:  
All the sweets that ere he took  
From his sacred mother's brook:  
What his double sorrow gives him,  
And love that doubly double grieves him:  
There he spends to move deaf hell,  
Charming Devils with his spell:  
And with sweetest asking leave  
Does the Lord of ghosts deceive.  
Charon amazed his boat foreslows,  
While the boat, the sculler rows,  
And of itself to'th' shore doth float,  
slipping on the dancing moat.  
The threeheaded Porter pressed to hear,  
Pricked up his thrice double ear,  
The Furies, plagues for Guilt up-heaping,  
Now as guilty, fell a weeping:  
Ixion, though his wheel stood still,  
Still was wrapped with Musics skill.  
Tantal might have eaten now,  
The fruit as still as was the bough,  
But he fool no longer fearing,  
Starved his taste to feed his hearing.  
Thus since love hath won the field,  
Heaven and Hell, to Earth must yield,  
Blessed soul that diest in love's sweet sound,  
That lost in love in love art found.  
If but a truelove's joy thou once do prove,  
Thou wilt not love to live, unless thou live to love.     

Act. 5.  

Scen. 1.  Enter Alcippus and Thalander with a torch. Tha. 
TEll me, Alcippus, is it day or night?  Al. 
The light you bear, shows you there is no light.  Tha. 
This is none: light was light in her eyes,  
In them it lived, put out with them it dies.  
The sun is quenched.  Al. 
Yet soon will shine again.  Tha. 
Not possible! heaven's light will ever plain.  
When her two living stars can sink and die,  
How can the sun dream immortality?  Al. 
Sir, if your to me, or mine to you, might give me privilege, I fain would tell you, that this too fixed love seems rather doting.  Tha. 
Alcippus, didst thou ever love?  Al. 
I think sir never.  Tha. 
I think so too, nor canst know what love is.  Al. 
Yet this I know, love still is of the fairest,  
Fond then the love, that loves the withered,  
But madness seems to dote upon the dead.  Tha. 
True, true, Alcippus, love is of the fairest,  
And therefore never tied unto the body:  
Which if compared unto the minds fair graces,  
Seems like the block that Luna's face defaces.  
But grounded on the mind, whose virtuous parts.  
And living beauties are love's surest darts,  
Which makes me now as freely love as ever:  
Her virtue and my love decayeth never.  
Seest thou this rock, Alcippus? 'tis a temple,  
Olinda's temple! 'tis a sacred shrine,  
Where virtue, beauty, and whate'er divine,  
Are to be worshipped, prithee friend now leave me,  
Here is an Altar, I must sacrifice.  Al. 
If you will leave your grief.  Tha. 
I will, I will:  
Indeed I will; leave me: griefs ebb grows low,  
When private heart th' eye-banks overflow.  Al. 
I will retire, not leave him: well, I fear,  
When two such flood-streams meet, love and despair.  Tha. 
Thou blessed Altar, take these worthless offerings,  
The corral's once more drowned in brine of sorrow,  
These pearly shells, which daily shall be filled  
With my heart's water, through my eyes distilled.  
You corals, whose fresh beauties are a shadow  
Of her sweet blushes, tell her living graces,  
Though now as you plucked from their native places,  
Are yet as you from your first seat removed,  
Here fresher shining than when first I loved.  
Thou rock, that in thy blessed arms dost enfold her,  
Witness my heart as firm as you do hold her.  
And now goodnight thou set sun beauties, never,  
Never more to be seen, goodnight for ever,  
Thou silver forehead and thou golden hair,  
My best, my only treasure when you were,  
You snowy plains, and you fair modest dyes,  
You living stars, but now two quenched lights,  
Whose fall, heaven's stars with feared ruin frights.  
You eyebrows, which like Rainbows two appear;  
A miracle, Rainbows on sky so clear.  
And all you unseen beauties softly rest,  
Sleep, quiet sleep you in this stony chest,  
I cannot long; I will not long be from you,  
Shortly I'll come and in this rocky bed  
Slumber with my Olinda, with Olinda  
I'll sleep my fill mean time as near as may be,  
Here rest mine eyes, rest close by your Olinda.  He lies down by the rock. 
Hark, hark; Arion, thou choice Musician,  
Sing me a note that may awake pale death,  
Such as may move deaf Hell and Stygian Jove,  
Such as once Orpheus— O I am idle, idle:  
Sleep, sleep, mine eyes, this short releasement take you,  
Sleep, sleep for ever; never more awake you.  
Her face your object never more shall be,  
Sleep then, vain eyes, why should you wish to see?   

Scen. 2.  The Rock opens: Enter Olinda led by Glaucus and Circe: they retire leaving Olinda. Song. Olin. 
Thou worthiest daughter of the greatest light,  
Most powerful Circe, and thou honoured Glaucus,  
What duty a poor fisher maid may give you,  
In thanks, and vows, and holy offerings,  
Shall still be ready at your sacred altars.  
Thalander, now to thee, what sacrifice?  
What offerings may appease thy wronged love?  
What have I but myself? ah worthless prize  
Of such, so tried, and so unmoved a faith.  
Ah, could I spend my body, wear my soul,  
And then resume another soul and body,  
And then consume that soul and body for thee,  
All would not pay the use of half my debt.  
How pale he looks, how strangely altered!  
Is he not dead? no, no, his pulse is quick,  
His heart is strong, and rising, in his heat,  
Threatens with strokes, my churlish hand to beat:  
Nature, how couldst in one so firmly tie  
Perpetual motion to fixed constancy?  
How can this wonder fall in Notion,  
A heart unmoved, yet still in motion!  
Alas he weeps, I hope his grief and fears  
Swim fast away in those sad streaming tears.  
thoust mourned enough, more justly may I weep,  
Leave me thy tears, rest thou and sweetly sleep.  Thalander starts up. Tha. 
Morpheus, one more such dream shall buy me.  
Where, where art, Olinda? whither, whither fliest thou?  Olin. 
Nay whither flies Thalander? here's Olinda:  
Tell me why waked the substance thou eschewest  
Whose shadow in a dream thou gladly viewest.  Tha. 
Thou fairest shadow of a Nymph more fair,  
Death yet I see cannot thy light impair.  Olin. 
Thou dreamest still Thalander!  Tha. 
Ah too too true;  
For such a sight wake shall I never view.  Olin. 
I live.  Tha. 
Would I were dead on that condition.  Olin. 
So would not I: believe me friend, I live.  Tha. 
Could I believe it, I were happy.  Olin. 
If me thou wilt not, trust thy sense, thy eyes.  Tha. 
They saw thee dead, how shall I trust my eye,  
Which either now or then did vouch a lie?  Olin. 
Credit thy touch.  Tha. 
Then like a dream thou'lt fly,  Olin. 
Thou fliest, thou art the shadow love not I:  
Thalander, take this, 'tis thine for ever,  
Nothing but death, nor death this knot shall sever.  Enter Alcippus. Al. 
How is this! have you learned, have you learned your mother Circe's art to raise the dead? wonder? think she lives.  Olin. 
What says Thalander? does he yet believe me?  Tha. 
If thou art dead, fair hand, how dost revive me?  Olin. 
Thalander, heart and hand had now been cold but for, Glaucilla, she preventing Cosma, tempered the poisonous vial, changing death for sleep, so gave me life, thee love.  Tha. 
Alcippus, art thou there? thou art my friend I prithee tell me true, true Alcippus! dost thou not see Olinda?  Al. 
I see her in your hand.  Tha. 
Art sure 'tis she? tell me, are we alive?  
Art sure we wake? are we not both mistaken?  
If now I sleep, O let me never waken.  Al. 
If you would surely know, try if she breathe,  Tha. 
Thy hand lives: do thy lips live too Olinda!  
Alcippus, she lives and breathes, Alcippus:  
And with that sugared bread my heart both fired,  
And life and love with thousand joys inspired.  
Ah my Olinda.  Olind. 
My dear, my dear Thalander.  Tha. 
Is't possible thou liv'st? is't sure I hold thee?  
These happy arms shall never more unfold thee.  Olin. 
Tell me, my love, canst thou such wrongs forgive me?  Tha. 
My joy, my soul.  Olin. 
I never more will grieve you.  
Canst thou forget my hate, my former blindness?  
If not, boldly revenge my rash unkindness.  
Pierce this vile heart my soul's ungrateful centre,  
Pierce with thy dart where love's dart could not enter.  Tha. 
For thy defence my hand shall still attend thee,  
My hand and heart, but never to offend thee:  
The only penance that I enjoin thee ever,  
Is that we live and love and joy together.  
Think not my hand will sacrilege commit,  
To break this temple where all Graces sit.  Olin. 
True, true my love, 'tis vowed a temple now,  
wherever shall be worshipped love and thou.  Al. 
You happy pair, since Cosma's spight's defeated,  
And Magoe's charms and death by love is cheated,  
Why stand you here? 'tis time from hence to move:  
This was the bed of death, and not of love.  
Death hath his part of night, love challengeth  
The rest, love claims the night as well as death.  Tha. 
What says my love?  Olin. 
What my Thalander, ever  
With thee to life or death, but from thee never.  Al. 
This half persuades me to become a lover. Exeunt.  
Where better could her love then here have nested?  
Or he his thoughts more daintily have feasted?  Manet Alcippus.  

Scen. 3.  Enter Tyrinthus and Gryphus. Tyr. 
know'st thou Perindus' sister, or Olinda?  Al. 
I know them both sir.  Tyr. 
Live they yet and breathe?  Al. 
They live and now most happy. Exit Alcippus.  Tyr. 
Thou mak'st me happy, in thy happy news.  
All thanks ye heavenly powers, when I forget  
Your goodness in my children's life and safety,  
Let heaven forget both me and mine for ever.  
Gryphus, back to our ship, and fetch me thence  
The vestments vowed to Neptune, and the chest,  
Wherein I locked my other offerings. Exit Gryphus.  
This rock my heart prefers before a palace.  
Fond men that have enough yet seek for more,  
I thought by traffic to increase my store,  
And striving to augment this careful pelf,  
I lost my goods, my liberty, myself:  
Taken by Persians on the Grecian seas,  
So I my captain and the King did please,  
Soon was I loosed from my slavish band,  
And straight preferred to have a large command,  
There have I now consumed these thrice five summers,  
There might I have lived long in wealth and honour,  
But ah thou little home, how in thy want  
The world so spacious, yet seems too too scant  
At my departure hence I left two infants,  
Perindus and Olinda, the boy some eight,  
The girl but two years old, their mother dead,  
Who giving life toth' girl, so took her death,  
And left her own, to give her infant breath.  
Great jove and Neptune, I will keep my vows,  
Seeing my Children live, two chosen bulls,  
With myrtle crowned, and Oak leaves laid with gold,  
Shall fall upon your altars.  Enter Pas. Pas. 
You sacred virtues, truth and spotless faith,  
Where will you live, if not in such a Nymph?  
Whose breast will you now seek? what mansion?  Tyr. 
My trembling heart doth some great ill divine,  
And tells me, every grief and fear is mine.  Pas. 
Where now can unsuspected friendship rest?  
If treachery possess so fair a breast.  Tyr. 
Fishers what news?  Pas. 
Sir, little as concerns you.  Tyr. 
Pray heavens it do not.  Pas. 
Your habit speaks a stranger,  
And yet methinks, I somewhat else have seen,  
Some lineaments of that face: are you Tyrinthus?  Tyr. 
The same.  Pas. 
O cruel heavens I could you find  
No other time, to give him back his country?  
If thus you give, happy whom you deny,  
The greater good, the greater injury:  
Thy only daughter  Tyr. 
Is dead. Tyrinthus falls.  Pas. 
I should have said so. Alas, he falls.  
Tyrinthus, what, one blow thus strike thee under fortune's feet?  
How loath his life returns!  Tyr. 
How well I had forgot my grief,  
And found my rest, with loss of restless life!  
Thou much hast wronged me, fisher, 'tis no love,  
Death from his just possession to remove:  
Heavens, ye have thanks for both, yet one you slew,  
Give back half of thy thanks, take but your due:  
I owe you nothing for Olinda, nothing.  
Ah poor Olinda I shall never more,  
Never more see thee: thy father must lament thee,  
Thy father, who in death should long prevent thee,  
How long since died she?  Pas. 
With the last sun she fell.  Tyr. 
Sure heavens, ye mock me: alas, what victory?  
What triumph in an old man's misery?  
When you have won, what conquest, that you slew  
A wretch that hated his life as much as you?  Pas. 
Sir, you forget yourself: to war with heaven,  
Is no less fond, then dangerous  Tyr. 
Tell me fisher, have you a child?  Pas. 
No sir.  Tyr. 
No marvel than  
Thou blamest my grief, of which thou hast no sense:  
First lose a child, then blame my patience.  Pas. 
If thou be grieved, this is no way to ease it,  
Sooner we anger heaven, then thus appease it.  Try 
But when the heart such weight of sorrow bears,  
It speaks from what it feels, and what it fears.  
Died she by a natural, or by violent means?  Pas. 
Nature refuses an office so unnatural.  Tyr. 
Hard fate, most fitly were you women made:  
Since fate unmerciful, unmoved stands,  
Well was life's distaff put in women's hands.  
Killed by a man?  Pas. 
No man was so unnatural.  Tyr. 
A woman!  Pas. 
Yes.  Tyr. 
Fit instrument of women: what was the weapon?  Pas. 
The coward's weapon, poison.  Tyr. 
Canst tell the murderer's name?  Pas. 
Her name Glaucilla:  
A Nymph thought absolute, though now infected,  
That heaven itself might sooner be suspected.  Tyr. 
Tell me the circumstance.  Pas. 
'Twill but more grieve you.  Tyr. 
True, but 'tis pity in unhelped distress,  
Condemned souls with all the weight to press.  Pas. 
Olinda this last night complained to Cosma,  
(A Nymph which lately came from fair Messena)  
That this Glaucilla's powerful charms had fired her,  
And with thalander's love now dead, inspired her  
With such a feeling grief, her grief lamenting,  
That she, to help so desperate love consenting,  
Gave her a water which she oft did prove,  
Would either quench or ease the pains of love,  
Which Cosma swore, the other ne'er denied.  
Glaucilla changed, Olinda drank and died.  
Dicaeus hearing this—  Tyr. 
Lives then Dicaeus?  Pas. 
As well and just as ever.  Tyr. 
His life doth somewhat mend  
My child's sad death, after a child, a friend.  Pas. 
Dicaeus by this evidence condemns her  
By th' law, from that high rock to fall, and she  
With smiling welcomed death, and quietly  
Stealed to the rock from whence she must be cast.  
Wonder so heavy guilt should fly so fast!  
She led her leaders to that deep descending,  
The guilty draws the guiltless to their ending:  
And thus I left them, and with her just Dicaeus,  
To see her execution, who goes not from her,  
Till from the rock, in seas she leave her breath,  
Die must she as she killed, water her crime and death.  Tyr. 
Ah my poor Olinda! had I seen thee yet  
And closed thine eyes, alas my poor Olinda!  Pas. 
This grief is vain and can no more revive her, you lose your tears.  Tyr. 
When that I hold most dear is ever lost, poor loss to lose a tear.  Pas. 
Your son strives, the good which heaven bereaves you,  
You quickly see, but see not what it leaves you.  Tyr. 
Art sure he lives?  Pas. 
Two hours since, sad I left him,  
But safe.  Tyr. 
What chances happen in an hour?  
By this he may be dead and buried.  
But yet Perindus, if thou living be,  
My half joy lives, my half joy dies in thee.   

Scen. 2.  Enter Cancrone and Scrocca bound: Nomicus the Priest. Can. 
Ah Scrocca, thou hast often heard me say, it would be my luck to be devoured; and to tell thee true, I ever feared those Cyclops most; I never had any mind to them.  Scr. 
Why Cancrone, this is the slavery on't, had we been Master fishers, we should never have been troubled to climb up these Mountains, we should never have been cast to our old acquaintance the fish.  Tyr. 
Fisher, know'st thou these men?  Pas 
I know the men, but not their meaning.  Can. 
That would never have angered me, thou know'st we have fed upon fish this many year, and for us to have made them one merry meal, had been but the sign of a thankful nature, but ah those Cyclops, clops, clops. Scrocca, I cannot digest them.  Scr. 
I fear they will 'gest us well enough.  Can. 
And yet I care not much if I were sure to be eaten up by that Cyclops that ate up my grandsire, for then I might have some hope to see the good old man once again before I die.  Scr. 
I care not whose hands I fall into, I'm sure he shall have no sweet bit of me now; nothing grieves me, but that having done but one good deed in all my life, I must die for that.  Nom. 
Thou foolish fisher, thinkst it good to stop  
The course of justice, and break her sword, the Law?  
By Law thou iv'st: he justly death deserves,  
Who that destroys, which him and his preserves.  Tyr. 
Are not these my old men, Scrocca and Cancrone?  Scr. 
Well sir, you may say what you will, but if we live by the Law, how cometh it to pass, that we must die by the Law?  Can. 
methinks I see how busy Rimronce will be about me: he surely will be upon my back, for my being upon his, a while ago.  Scr. 
Nay Cancrone, thou diest for saving thy master too.  Tyr. 
Ay me, my son?  Can. 
I have no mind to climb these Mountains, I begin to be short-winded already, I shall never hold out; had I thought it would have come to this, I would have been vilely tempted to ha' let my Master drown quickly.  Scr. 
What, man? thou couldst never have done thy Master better service than to die for him, nay, if Perindus live, I care not.  Tyr. 
Perindus? I can hold no longer, friend, who is thy Master? why art thou manacled?  Scr. 
Mantled hither! marry this Priest hath mantled us for saving our Master Perindus.  Tyr. 
Ay me, my son.  Can. 
Uds fish, old Master, where have you been this 20 years and more;  Nom. 
Tyrinthus! at such a time! sir, your arrival is either very happy, or else most hapless, either to see, or else prevent a danger.  Tyr. 
Priest, how is my Perindus?  Nom. 
Doomed to die.  Tyr. 
What is the cause?  Nom. 
His will.  Tyr. 
Who could persuade him?  Nom. 
She who most strove to hinder and dissuade him.  Tyr. 
What had he done?  Nom. 
That which deserves all life and love.  Tyr. 
How fine the heaven's powers can sorrows frame!  
The fates will play, and make my woe their game.  
Where is he?  Can. 
Safe enough I warrant you, get's leave of the Priest, master, and we'll go fetch him.  Scr. 
We caught him out of the water.  Can. 
O, he had supped a abundance of salt porridge!  Scr. 
And brought him to the ship where the mariners keep him.  Tyr. 
Why stand I idle here! O to the shore I'll fly,  
And either with him live, or for him die.  Can. 
Master, master, master. Exit Tyrinchus.  Pas. 
I'll follow him: nature can do no less  
Than either help, or pity such distress. Exit Pas.  Can. 
Nay if you go too, then farewell all,  
Farewell ye rocks, farewell to thee O love,  
You lovely rocks, you hard and rocky love.  
Nay I shall turn swain presently and sing my final song.  Nom. 
I marvel what it is that stays Dicaus.  Con. 
Marry let him stay till I send for him, the Cyclops shall want their breakfast this month.  Nom. 
Here I must stay for him.   

Scen. 5.  Enter Cosma. Cos. 
fain would I know how my gin thrives and prospers. Olinda is fast, and by my disamour hath quenched her love with death: if now Glaucilla be taken in that snare, then am I cunning: well may I prove a fisher, who have took too maids so soon with oneself bait and hook. Is not that Nomicus? I shall learn of him. Nomicus?  Nom. 
Who Cosma?  Cos. 
Why are these fishers bound?  Con. 
For you.  Cos. 
For me?  Can. 
I for you, had not you 'cused Glaucilla, she had not been condemned: if she had not been condemned, Perindus would not have died for her: if he would not have died for her, he had not fallen from the rock: had he not fallen from the rock, we had not saved him: if we had not saved him, we had not been bound: were we not bound, we would show a fair pair of heels,  Cos. 
What talks this fool? Perindus fall'n from the rock!  Nom. 
Hast thou not heard then of Perindus' faith and fall?  Cos. 
No, not a word; but fain would hear.  Nom. 
And shalt: my tongue is as ready as thy ear; meanwhile lead these away, soon as Dicaeus returns, I'll overtake you.  Can. 
I prithee Mr Priest, let me crave one favour; that I may have an Epitaph for me in Neptune's church porch, I'll never go farther.  Nom. 
Here's no time for Epitaphs, away.  Can. 
Nay, 'tis soon done, I'll trouble never a poet of them all, I have it already. 
Cancrone valorous and kind, where art thou?  
Cancrone too kind and valorous to live,  
Engulfed in Cyclops guts. Readers, why start you?  
His life for his master he did freely give.   
Ungrateful sicily that want'st his bones,  
Instead of members keeping his memory in stones.  
Short and sweet, Mr Priest.  Scr. 
Cancrone, this is a land voyage, you must lead the way.  Can. 
But when we sail down the Cyclops throat, I'll give you the pre-eminence. Exeunt.  Nom. 
After that hapless Nymph had heard her doom,  
As she was led toth' rock, i'th' middle way,  
Perindus flying fast, calls out, Stay:  
And for he thought his feet too slowly bore him,  
Before he came, he sent his voice before.  
Stay, stay, Dicaeus, thouart a man, I see,  
And well mayst err heavens not more pure than she.  
Yet since the doom is past I'll, pawn my breath,  
And make your fact less heinous by my death:  
I'll lose her life in me, and she shall spend  
My life in her, so both shall better end.  Cos. 
This was no ill news to the Nymph.  Nom. 
Yes, yes: then first she thought herself condemned,  
Death in him she feared and in herself contemned.  
That law itself (says she) should suffer death,  
Which one condemns, another punisheth.  
True, says Perindus, my life, my all's in thee,  
When thou offendest, why shouldst thou punish me?  
But brief to give their words in short contracted,  
Was never part of love more lovely acted:  
Both loath to live, and both contend to die,  
Where only death strove for the victory.  
Mean time I could but weep, nor I alone,  
That two such loves should die, not live in one.  Cos. 
Their spotless faith's a crystal, where I see  
Too late my cankered hate's deformity.  Nom. 
At length the law itself decides the strife,  
That he with loss of his might buy her life.  
Then and but then she, wept, and to prevent him,  
Down fell she with a deadly look and eye,  
Acting the prologue of his tragedy,  
And waked again, she 'gan to chide and rave,  
And vows to live no further than his grave;  
While he with cheerful steps the rocks ascending:  
Fearless beholds his death, that steep descending,  
And boldly standing on the utmost brow,  
Thus spoke:  
Poor life, I never knew thy worth till now,  
How thou art over valued to pay  
Her life with thine, gold with base alchemy.  Cos. 
Just, just, you heavens, I have set a gin  
For them, and now myself the first am in.  Nom. 
Then turning to his love, thus spoke his last:  
Farewell Glaucilla, live and in thy breast  
As in a heaven my love and life shall rest:  
Seek not by death thyself from grief to free,  
Remember now Perindus lives in thee.  
Cherish my heart, which in thy heart doth lie,  
For whilst thou liv'st, Perindus cannot die:  
So leapt he lightly from the cloudy rock.  Cos. 
Is he then dead?  Nom. 
No: for the guilty sea  
With soft embraces wrapped his limbs;  
It seems the waves moved with Sympathy,  
Would teach unhuman men humanity.  
Though they could not prevent, would ease his fall;  
And not consenting to his pious death,  
Restored him up again to air and breath:  
Briefly, those two his servants not regarding,  
Dicaeus threatening voice, and just awarding,  
With him took up his guilt, and to a ship  
That rides in the haven safe conveyed him, there  
They left him now revived, themselves were taken  
And as the law commands, were doomed to suffer  
The death of slaves: both to be strongly bound,  
And in those hills left to the greedy Cyclops:  
And now the stay is only in Dicaeus,  
At whose return they suffer, just they die,  
Who love their master more than equity.  Cos. 
O lawless love! this soul offence,  
Which when it prospered, pleased my ravished sense:  
With what a dry aspect, what horrid sight,  
Now done, it fills my soul with guilty fright,  
Who ere thou art, if in true spotless breast,  
Thy undefiled thoughts do quiet rest:  
Wake them not, and let no bloodhound with thee dwell,  
These murdering thoughts are like the mouth of hell,  
Into whose yawning 'tis more easy never  
To fall, then fall'n, to cease from falling ever.  Enter Pas. Pas. 
Nomicus, thou now mayst let thy prisoners free,  
Thalander to Olinda now revived,  
Perindus to Glaucilla are to be married,  
And all are brought along with singing,  
Hymen the shores, Hymen the echoes ringing.  
Nomicus, seest thou this Nymph? ah couldst thou think  
That treason, envy, murder, spite and hell,  
All hell itself in such a heaven could dwell?  
This is the knot of all these sorrows; Cosma,  
If not for shame, why yet for spite or fashion,  
For woman's fashion let some tears be spilled:  
A sea of weeping will not wash thy guilt.  Nom. 
Great nature, that hast made a stone descry  
Twixt meaner natures, checking baser metals,  
Which proudly counterfeit the purer gold,  
Why hast thou left the soul of man no touchstone,  
To judge dissemblance, and descry proud vice,  
Which with false colours seems more virtuous  
Than virtues self? like to some cunning workman,  
Who frames a shape in such a form of stature,  
That oft he excels by imitating nature.  
He that should look upon this Nymphs sweet eye  
Would vow't a temple sworn to purity.  Pas. 
If murder rest in such a lovely grace,  
Here do I vow never to trust a face.  
Shall I call back your Prisoners?  Nom. 
Prithee do:  
Our nets, boats, oars, and hooks shall now go play,  
For heaven hath sworn to make this holy day.   

Scen. 6.  Enter Dicaeus, Tyrinthus, Thalander, Olinda, Perindus, Glaucillae, Alcippus, Chorus. 

Song.  
Hymen, Hymen, come safe on, Hymen.  
That I love for ever constant stands,  
Where hearts are tied before the hands,  
Where fair virtue marries beauty,  
And affection pleads for duty:  
Hymen, Hymen, come safe on Hymen.   Al. 
You honoured pair of fishers, see where your love,  
So full of constant trial now hath brought you,  
See, blessed souls, through so many tears,  
Turnings, despairs, impossibilities,  
Your love is now most safe arrived: Thalander,  
Is this the Nymph, whom heaven and angry hell,  
Her cold desires, and colder death itself  
Would have devoured from thy deserving love?  
Thalander, these hands are thine, that heavenly face,  
Those starry eyes, those roses and that grace,  
Those coral lips, and that unknown breast,  
And all the hidden riches of the rest:  
They all are thine, thine is the fair Olinda.  
Yet thou, as thou wast wont, all sad and heavy  Tha. 
Blame me not, friend: for yet I seem forsaken  
And doubt I sleep, and fear still to be waken.  Enter Pas, with Cancrone and Scrocca. Cos. 
Now is the time of pardon. Ye happy maids,  
Your love in spite of all tempestuous seas,  
Is safe arrived, and harbours in his ease,  
And all those storms have got but this at last,  
To sweeten present joys with sorrows past.  
Blessed Olinda, thou hast got a love  
Equal to heaven, and next to highest jove.  
Glaucilla, thy loss thou now dost full recover.  
Ah you have found (too seldom found) a lover.  
Then do not her too rigorously reprove,  
For loving those whom you yet better love.  Olin. 
For us, we judge not of your hard intent,  
But reckon your joys fatal instrument.  Dicae. 
Yet this her penance: Cosma, mark thy censure,  
Whom most thou shouldest love, thou shalt love never  
Dote thou on dotards, they shall hold thee ever:  
The best and wisest never shall respect thee,  
Thou only fools, fools only shall affect thee.  
Loose now those prisoners; so forward to the temple.  Exit Chorus. Can. 
Ha brave judge, now Mistress mine, I must confess.  Cos. 
This charm begins to work already,  
I love this fool, and dote upon him more,  
Than ever upon any man before:  
Well, I must be content thus to be cursed  
And yet of lovers, fools are not the worst.  
For howsoever boys do hoot and flout them,  
The best and wisest oft have fools about them.  Can. 
I and many a fool's babble too, I warrant them.  
Sweet heart, shall we go to bed?  Cos. 
What, in the morning?  Can. 
Morning? 'tis night.  Cos. 
Thou art a fool indeed, seest not the sun?  Can. 
Why that's a candle or the moon, I prithee let's go to bed.  Cos. 
Content; no time unfit for play,  
Love knows no difference 'twixt night and day.  Can. 
Nay, all the play's done, gentles, you may go,  
I have another play within to do.  
Riddle me, Riddle me, what's that?  
My play is work enough; my work is play,  
I see to work i'th' night, and rest i'th' day:  
Since then my play and work is all but one,  
Well may my play begin, now yours is done.  Exeunt.    

epilogus.  
AS in a Feast, so in a Comedy,  
Two senses must be pleased in both the eye,  
In feasts, the eye and taste must be invited,  
In Comedies, the eye and ear delighted:  
And he that only seeks to please but either,  
While both he doth not please, he pleaseth neither.  
whatever feast could every guest content,  
When as t'each man each taste is different?  
But less a Scene, where nought but as 'tis newer,  
Can please, where guests are more, and dishes fewer:  
Yet in this thought, this thought the Author eased,  
Who once made all, all rules, all never pleased.  
fain would we please the best, if not the many,  
And sooner will the best be pleased then any:  
Our rest we set in pleasing of the best,  
So wish we you, what you may give us: Rest.  
FINIS.