LOVES METAMORPHOSIS. A Witty and Courtly Pastoral, WRITTEN BY Mr. john Lyllie.  
First played by the Children of Paul's, and now by the Children of the Chapel.  
LONDON Printed for William Wood, dwelling at the West end of Paul's, at the sign of Time. 1601.   
loves Metamorphosis.  

Ramis, Montanus, Silvestris. 
I Cannot see, Montanus, why it is feigned by the Poets, that Love sat upon the Chaos and created the world; since in the world there is so little love.  Mm. Ramos, 
thou canst not see that which cannot with reason be imagined; for it the divine virtues of Love, had dispersed themselves through the powers of the world, so forcibly as to make them take by his influence, the forms and qualities impressed within them, no doubt they could not choose, but favour more of his Divinity.  Sil. 
I do not think Love hath any spark of Divinity in him; since the end or his being is earthly. In the blood is he begot by the frail fires of the eye, & quench by the frailer shadows of thought. What reason have we then to sooth his humour with such zeal, and follow his fading delights with such passion.  Ram. 
We have bodies, Silvestris, and human bodies; which in their own natures being much more wretched than beasts, and much more miserably than beasts pursue their own ruins: And since it will ask longer labour and study to subdue the powers of our blood, to the rule of the soul, than to satisfy them with the fruition of our loves, let us be constant in the world's errors, and seek our own torments.  Mont. 
As good yield indeed submissively, and satisfy part of our affections; as be stubborn without ability to resist, and enjoy none of them: I am in worst plight, since I love a Nymph that mocks love.  Ram. 
And I one that hates love.  Sil. 
ay, one that thinks herself above love.  Ram. 
Let us not dispute whose mistress is most bad, since they be all cruel; nor which of our fortunes be most froward, since they be all desperate. I will hang my scutcheon on this tree in honour of Ceres, and write this verse on the tree in hope of my success, Penelopen ipsam perstes, mode tempore vinces. Penelope will yield at last: continue and conquer.  Mont. 
I this: Fructus abest facies cum bona testae caret. Fair faces lose their favours, if they admit no lovers.  Ram. 
But why studiest thou? What wilt thou write for thy Lady to read?  Sil. 
That which necessity maketh me to endure, love reverence, wisdom wonder at. Rivalem patienter habe.  Mont. 
Come, let us every one to our walks, it may be we shall meet them walking. Exeunt.   

ACTVS PRIMVS. SCENA secunda.  Nisa, Celia, Niobe, Fidelia, Erisicthon. Nisa. 
It is time to hang up our Garlands, this is our harvest holiday, we must both sing and dance in the honour of Ceres: of what colours or flowers is thine made of, Niobe?  Niob. 
Or Salamints, which in the morning are white, red at noon, and in the Evening purple, for in my affections shall there be no staidness but in unstaidness: but what is yours of, Nisa?  Nisa. 
Of Holly, because it is most holy, which lovely green neither the suns beams, nor the winds blasts can alter or diminish. But Celia, what Garland have you?  Celia. 
Mine all of Cypress leaves, which are broadest and beautifullest, yet beareth the least fruit; for beauty maketh the brightest show, being the slightest substance; and I am content to wither before I be worn, and deprive myself of that which so many desire.  Niob. 
Come, let us make an end, lest Ceres come and find us slack in performing that which we owe: But soft, some have been here this Morning before us.  Nis. 
The amorous Foresters, or none, for in the woods they have eaten so much wake-Robin, that they cannot sleep for love.  Celia. 
Alas poor souls, how ill love sounds in their lips, who telling a long tale of hunting, think they have bewrayed a sad passion of love!  Niob. 
Give them leave to love, since we have liberty to choose, for as great sport do I take in coursing their tame hearts, as they do pains in hunting their wild Hearts.  Celia. 
Niobe, your affection is but pinned to your tongue, which when you lift you can unloose. But let us read what they have written: Penelopen ipsam perstes mode tempore vinces. That is for you Nisa, whom nothing will move, yet hope makes him hover.  Nisa. 
A fond Hobby to hover over an Eagle.  Niob. 
But Foresters think all Birds to be Buntings. What's the next Fructus abest facies cum bona testae caret, Celia, the Forester gives you good counsel, take your pennyworth whiles the market serves.  Celia. 
I hope it will be market day till my deaths day.  Nisa. 
Let me read to Rivalem patienter habe, he toucheth you, Niobe, on the quick, yet you see how patient he is in your constancy.  Niob. 
Inconstancy is a vice, which I will not swap for all the virtues; though I throw one off with my whole hand, I can pull him again with my little finger; let us encourage them and write something; if they censure in favourably, we know them fools; if angrily, we will say they are froward.  Nisa. 
I will begin. Cedit amor rebus, res age, tutus reis.  Celia. 
Indeed better to tell stars then be idle, yet better idle then ill employed; Mine this, Sat mihi sifacies, sit bene nota mihi.  Niob. 
You care for nothing but a Glass, that is a flatterer.  Nisa. 
Then all men are Glasses.  Celia. 
Some Glasses are true.  Niob. 
No men are; but this is mine: Victoriatecum stabit.  Nisa. 
Thou givest hope.  Niob. 
He is worthy of, that is patient.  Celia. 
Let us sing, and so attend on Ceres; for this day, although into her heart never entered any motion of love, yet usually to the Temple of Cupid, he offereth two white Doves, as entreating his favour, and one Eagle, as commanding his power. Praecibusque minaes regaliter addet.  Cantant & Saltant. Erisict. 
What noise is this, what assembly, what Idolatry Is the modesty of virgins turned to wantonness? The honour of Ceres accounted immortal? And Erisychthon ruler of this Forest, esteemed of no force? Impudent giglots, that you are, to disturb my game, or dare do honour to any but Erisychthon. It is not your fair faces as smooth as lea●e, nor your enticing eyes, though they drew iron like adamants, nor your filed speeches, were they as forcible, as Thessalides, that shall make me any way flexible.  Niob. 
Erisychthon, thy stern looks joined with thy stout speeches; thy words as unkempt as thy locks, were able to affright men of bold courage, and to make us silly girls frantic, that are full of fear; but know thou, Erisychthon, that were thy hands so unstated as thy tongue, and th'one as ready to execute mischief, as the other to threaten it; it should neither move our hearts to ask pity, or remove our bodies from this place; we are the handmaides of divine Ceres, to fair Ceres is this holy tree dedicated, to Ceres, by whose favour thyself livest, that are worthy to perish.  Erisict. 
Are you addicted to Ceres, that in spite of Erisychthon you will use these sacrifices? No, immodest girls, you shall see that I have neither regard of your sex which men should tender, nor of your beauty which foolish love would dote on, nor of your goddess, which none but peevish girls reverence: I will destroy this tree in despite of all, and that you may see my hand execute, what my heart intendeth; and that no mean may appease my malice, my last word shall be the beginning of the first blow.  Celia. 
Our alas, what hath he done?  Niob. 
ourselves, I fear, must also minister matter to his fury.  Nisa. 
Let him alone: but see, the tree poureth our blood, and I hear a voice.  Erisict. 
What voice? If in the tree there be anybody, speak quickly, left the next blow hit the tale out of thy mouth.  Fidel. 
Monster of men, hate of the heavens, and to the earth a burden, what hath chaste Fidelia committed? It is thy spite, Cupid, that having no power to wound my unsported mind, procurest means to mangle my tender body, and by violence to gash those sides, that enclose a heart dedicate to virtue: or is it that savage satire, that feeding his sensual appetite upon lust, seeketh now to quench it with blood, that being without hope to attain my love, he may with cruelty end my life? Or doth Ceres, whose nymph I have been many years, in recompense of my inviolable faith, reward me with unspeakable torments? Divine Phoebus that pursued Daphne till she was turned to a bay tree, ceased then to trouble her. ay, the gods are pitiful; and Cineras, that with fury followed his daughter Miretia, till she was changed to a myrrh-tree, left then to prosecute her; yea parents are natural: Phoebus lamented the loss of his friend, Cineras of his child: but both gods, and men either forget or neglect the change of Fidelia; nay follow her after her change, to make her more miserable: so that there is nothing more hateful than to be chaste, whole bodies are followed in the world with lust, and prosecuted in the graves with tyranny. Whose minds the freer they are from vice, their bodies are in the more danger of mischief; so that they are not safe when they live, because of men's love; nor being changed, because of their hates; nor being dead, because of their defaming. What is that chastity which so few women study to keep, and both gods and men seek to violate? If only a naked name, why are we so superstitious of a hollow found? If a rare virtue, why are men so careless of such an exceeding rareness: Go, Ladies, tell Ceres I am that Fidelia, that so long knit Garlands in her honour, and chased with a Satire, by prayer to the gods became turned to a tree, whose body now is grown over with rough bark, and whose golden locks are covered with green leaves; yet where mind nothing can alter, neither the fear of death, nor the torments. If Ceres seek no revenge, then let virginity be not only the scorn of Savage people, but the spoil. But alas, I feel my last blood to come, & therefore must end my last breath. Farewell Ladies, whose lives are subject to many mischiefs; for if you be fair, it is hard to be chaste; if chaste, impossible to be safe; if you be young, you will quickly bend; if bend, you are suddenly broken. If you be soul, you shall seldom be flattered: if you be not flattered, you will ever be sorrowful. Beauty is a firm fickleness, youth a feeble staidness, deformity a continual sadness.  Niob 
Thou monster, canst thou hear this without grief?  Erisict. 
Yea, and double your griefs with my blows.  Nisa. 
Ah poor Fidelia, the express pattern of chastity, and example of misfortune.  Celia. 
Ah cruel Erisychthon, that not only defacest these holy trees, but murderest also this chaste nymph.  Erisict. 
Nymph or goddess it skilleth not, for there is none that Erisychthon careth for, but Erisychthon: let Ceres the Lady of your harvest revenge when she will, nay when she dares, and tell her this, that I am Erisychthon.  Niob. 
Thou art none of the gods.  Erisict. 
No, a contemner of the gods.  Nisa. 
And hopest thou to escape revenge being but a man?  Erisict. 
Yea, I care not for revenge being a man and Erisychthon.  Nisa. 
Come, let us to Ceres and complain of this unacquainted and incredible villain; if there be power in her deity, in her mind pity, or virtue in virginity, this monster cannot escape. Exeunt.    

ACTVS SECVNDVS.  

SCENA PRIMA.  Ceres, Niobe, Nisa, Cupid, Tirtena. Ceres. 
Doth Erisychthon offer force to my Nymphs, and to my deity disgrace? Have I stuffed his barns with fruitful grain, and doth he stretch his hand against me with intolerable pride? So it is, Ceres, thine eyes may witness what thy Nymphs have told, here lieth the tree hacked in pieces, and the blood scarce cold of the fairest virgin. If this be thy cruelty, Cupid, I will no more hallow thy temple with sacred vows: if thy cankered nature, Erisychthon, thou shalt find as great misery, as thou showest malice: I am resolved of thy punishment, and as speedy shall be my revenge, as thy rigour barbarous. Tirtenae, on yonder lull where never grew grain nor lease, where nothing is but barrenness and coldness, fear and paleness, lieth famine, go to her, and say that Ceres commandeth her to gnaw on the bowels of Erisychthon, that his hunger may be as unquenchable as his fury.  Tart. 
I obey, but how should I know her from others?  Cer. 
Thou canst not miss of her, if thou remember but her name; and that canst thou not forget, for that coming near to the place, thou shalt find gnawing in thy stomach. she lieth gaping, and swalloweth 'nough but air; her face pale and so lean, that as easily thou mayest, through the very skin behold the bone, as in a glass thy shadow; her hair long, black and shaggy; her eyes sunk so far into her head, that she looketh out of the nape of her neck; her lips white and rough; her teeth hollow and red with rustiness; her skin so thin, that thou mayest as lively make an Anatomy of her body, as she were cut up with Chirurgeons; her maw like a dry bladder, her heart swollen big with wind, and all her bowels like snakes working in her body. This monster when thou shalt behold, tell her my mind, and return with speed.  Tart. 
I go, fearing more the sight of famine, than the force.  Cer. 
Take thou these few cares of corn, but let not famine so much as smell to them; and let her go aloof from thee: Now shall Erisychthon see that Ceres is a great goddess, as full of power as himself of pride; and as pitiless, as he presumptuous; how think you Ladies, is not this revenge apt for so great injury?  Niob. 
Yes Madam: To let men see, they that contend with the gods, do but confound themselves.  Cer. 
But let us to the Temple of Cupid, and offer sacrifice; they that think it strange for chastity to humble itself to Cupid, know neither the power of love, nor the nature of virginity: th'one having absolute authority to command, the other difficulty to resist: and where such continual war is between love and virtue, there must be some parties, and continual perils: Cupid was never conquered, and therefore must be flattered; Virginity hath, and therefore must be humble.  Nisa. 
Into my heart, Madam, there did never enter any motion of love.  Cer. 
Those that often say, they cannot love, or will not love, certainly they love. Didst thou never see Cupid?  Nisa. 
No, but I have heard him described at the full, and as I imagined, foolishly. First that he should be a god blind and naked, with wings, with bow, with arrows, with free-brands; swimming sometimes in the Sea, & playing sometimes on the shore; with many other devices, which the Painters being the poet's Apes, have taken as great pains to shadow, as they to lie. Can I think that gods that command all things, would go naked? What should he do with wings that knows not where to slice? Or what with arrows, that sees not how to aim? The heart is a narrow marks go hit, and rather requireth Argus' eyes to take level, there a blind boy to shoot at random: If he were fire, the Sea would quench those coals, or the flame turn him into cinders.  Cer. 
Well Nisa, thou shalt see him.  Nisa. 
I fear Niobe hath felt him.  Niob. 
Not I, Madam, yet must I confess, that oftentimes I have had sweet thoughts, sometimes hard conceits, betwixt both a kind of yielding; I know not what. But certainly I think it is not love: sigh I can, and find ease in melancholy: smile I do and take pleasure in imagination, I feel in myself a pleasing pain, a chill heat, a delicate bitterness, how to term it I know not; without doubt it may be love, sure I am it is not hate.  Nisa. 
Niobe is tender hearted, whose thoughts are like water, yielding to every thing, and nothing to be seen.  Cer. 
Well, let us to Cupid, and take heed that in your stubborness you'll offend him not, whom by entreaties you ought to follow Diana's Nymphs were as chaste as Ceres' virgins, as fair, as wife: how Cupid tormented them, I had rather you should hear then feel, but this is truth, they all yielded to love: look not scornfully, my Nymphs, I say they are yielded to love. This is the temple, thou great god Cupid, whom the God's regard and men reverence, let it be lawful for Ceres to offer her sacrifice.  Cup. 
Divine Ceres, Cupid accepteth any thing, that cometh from Ceres, which feedeth my Sparrows with ripe corn, my Pigeons with wholesome seeds; and honourest my Temple with chaste virgins.  Cer. 
Then Love, to thee I bring these white and spotless Doves, in token that my heart is as free from any thought of love, as these from any blemish, and as clear in virginity, as these perfect in whiteness. But that my Nymphs may know both thy power and thy laws, and neither err in ignorance nor pride; let me ask some questions to instruct them that they offend not those, whom resist they cannot. In virgins what dost thou chiefest desire?  Cup. 
In those that are not in love, reverent thoughts of love, in those that be, faithful vows.  Cer. 
What dost thou most hate in virgins?  Cup. 
Pride in the beautiful, bitter taunts in the witty, incredulity in all.  Cer. 
What may protect my virgins that they may never love?  Cup. 
That they be never idle.  Cer. 
Why didst thou so cruelly torment all Diana's Nymphs with love?  Cup. 
Because they thought it impossible to love.  Cer. 
What is the substance of love?  Cup. 
Constancy and secrecy.  Cer. 
What the signs?  Cup. 
Sighs and tears.  Cer. 
What the causes?  Cup. 
Wit and idleness.  Cer. 
What the means?  Cup. 
Opportunity and Importunity.  Cer. 
What the end?  Cup. 
Happiness without end.  Cer. 
What requirest thou of men?  Cup. 
That only shall be known to men.  Cer. 
What revenge for those that will not love?  Cup. 
To be deceived when they do.  Cer. 
Well, Cupid, entreat my Nymphs with favour and though to love it be no vice, yet spotless virginity is the only virtue: let me keep their thoughts as chaste as their bodies, than Ceres may be happy, & they praised.  Cup. 
Why, Ceres, do you think that lust followeth love? Ceres, lovers are chaste: for what is love, divine love, but the quintessence of chastity, and affections binding by heavenly motions, thou cannot be undone by earthly means, 〈…〉 by any man?  Cer. 
〈…〉 continual sacrifice, warm us with mild 〈…〉 we seem immodest 〈…〉 ●ble like stocks.  Cup. 
Ceres, 〈…〉 be light nor obstinacy, 〈…〉 and faithful; so shall your flames warm, but not burn, delight and never discomfort.  Cer. 
How say you, my Nymphs, doth not Cupid speak like a god? Counsel you I will not to love, but conjure you I must that you be not disdainful, let us in, and see how Erisychthon speedeth; famine flieth swiftly, and hath already seized on his stomach.  Exeunt.   

ACTVS TERTIVS.  

SCENA PRIMA.  Ramis, Nisa, Montanus, Celia, Silvestris, Niobe. Ram. 
Stay, cruel Nisa, thou knowest not from whom thou fliest, and therefore fliest; I come not to offer violence, but that which is inviolable, my thoughts are as holy as thy vows, and I as constant in love as thou in cruelty: lust followeth not my love as shadows do bodies, but truth is woven into my love, as veins into bodies; let me touch this tender arm, and say my love is endless.  Nisa. 
And to no end.  Ram. 
It is without spot.  Nisa. 
And shall be without hope.  Ram. 
Dost thou disdain Love and his laws?  Nisa. 
I do not disdain that which I think is not, yet laugh at those that honour it if it be.  Ram. 
Time shall bring to pass, that Nisa shall confess there is love.  Nisa. 
Then also will love make me confess, that Nisa is a fool.  Ram. 
Is it folly to love, which the God's account honourable, and men esteem holy?  Nisa. 
The gods make any thing lawful, because they be gods, and men honour shadows for substance, because they are men.  Ram. 
Both gods and men agree that love is a consuming of the heart, and restoring a bitter death in a sweet life.  Nisa. 
God's do know, and men should, that love is a consuming of wit, and restoring of folly, a staring blindness, and a blind gazing.  Ram. 
Wouldst thou allot me death?  Nisa. 
No, but discretion.  Ram. 
Yield some hope.  Nisa. 
Hope to despair.  Ram. 
Not so long as Nisa is a woman.  Nisa. 
Therein, Ramis, you show yourself a man.  Ram. 
Why?  Nisa. 
In flattering yourself, that all women will yield.  Ram. 
All may.  Nisa. 
Thou shalt swear that we cannot.  Ram. 
I will follow thee, and practise by denials to be patient, or by disdaining die, and so be happy.  Exeunt. Mont. 
Though thou hast overtaken me in love, yet have I overtaken thee in running: fair Celia, yield to love, to sweet love.  Celia. 
Montanus, thou art mad, that having no breath almost in running so fast, thou wilt yet spend more in speaking so foolishly: yield to love! cannot, or if I do, to thy love I will not.  Mont. 
The fairest Wolf chooseth the foulest, if he be faithfullest, and he that endureth most grief, nor he that hath most beauty.  Celia. 
If my thoughts were wolvish, thy hopes might be as thy comparison is, beastly.  Mon. 
I would thy words were, as thy looks are, lovely.  Celia. 
I would thy looks were, as thy affection is, blind.  Mont. 
Fair faces should have smooth hearts.  Celia. 
Fresh flowers have crooked roots.  Mont. 
Women's beauties will wain, and then no art can make them fair?  Celia. 
Men's follies will ever wax, and then what reason can make them wise?  Mont. 
To be amiable and not to love, is like a painted Lady, to have colours, and no life.  Celia. 
To be amorous, and not lovely, is like a pleasant fool full of words, and no deserts.  Mont. 
What call you deserts, what lovely?  Celia. 
No lovelier thing than wit, no greater desert than patience.  Mont. 
Have not I an excellent wit?  Celia. 
If thou think so thy self, thou art an excellent fool.  Mont. 
Fool? No, Celia, thou shalt find me as wise, as I do thee proud, and as little to digest thy taunts, as thou to brook my love.  Celia. 
I thought, Montanus, that you could not deserve, when I told you what it was, Patience.  Mont. 
Sweet Celia, I will be patient and forget this.  Celia. 
Then want you wit, that you can be content to be patient.  Mont. 
A hard choice, if I take all well, to be a fool, if find fault, than to want patience.  Celia. 
The fortune of love, and the virtue is neither to have success, nor mean. Farewell.  Mont. 
Farewell, nay I will follow, and I know not how it cometh to pass; disdain increaseth desire, and the farther possibility standeth, the nearer approacheth hope.  Sil. 
Polypus, Niobe, is ever of the colour of the stone it slicketh to, and thou ever of his humour thou talkest with.  Niob. 
Find you fault that I love?  Sil. 
So many.  Niob. 
Would you have me like none?  Sil. 
Yes one.  Niob. 
Who shall make choice but myself?  Sil. 
myself.  Niob. 
For another to put thoughts into my head, were to pull the brains out of my head; take not measure of my affections, but weigh your own: the Oak findeth no fault with the dew, because it also falleth on the bramble. Believe me, Silvestris, the only way to be mad, is to be constant. Poets make their wreaths of Laurel, Ladies of sundry flowers.  Sil. 
Sweet Niobe, a river running into divers brooks becometh shallow, and a mind divided into sundry affections, in the end will have none: what joy can I take in the fortune of my love, when I shall know many to have the like favours? Turtles flock by couples, and breed both joy and young ones.  Niob. 
But Bees in swarms, and bring forth wax and honey.  Sil. 
Why do you covet many, that may find sweetness in one?  Niob. 
Why had Argus an hundred eyes, and might have seen with one?  Sil. 
Because whilst he slept with some, he might wake with other some.  Niob. 
And I love many, because being deceived by the inconstancy of divers, I might yet have one.  Sil. 
That was but a device of Juno, that knew Jupiter's love.  Nio. 
And this a rule of Venus, that knew men's lightness.  Sil. 
The whole heaven hath but one Sun.  Niob. 
But stars infinite.  Sil. 
The Rainbow is ever in one compass.  Niob. 
But of sundry colours.  Sil. 
A woman hath but one heart.  Niob. 
But a thousand thoughts.  Sil. 
My Lute, though it have many strings, maketh a sweet consent, and a Lady's heart, though it harbour many fancies, should embrace but one love.  Niob. 
The strings of my heart are tuned in a contrary key to your Lute, and make as sweet harmony in discords, as yours in concord.  Sil. 
Why, what strings are in ladies' hearts? Not the base.  Niob. 
There is no base string in a woman's heart.  Sil. 
The mean?  Niob. 
There was never mean in woman's heart.  Sil. 
The treble?  Niob. 
Yea, the treble double and treble, and so are all my heart strings. Farewell.  Sil. 
Sweet Niobe, let us sing, that I may die with the Swan.  Niob. 
It will make you sigh the more, and live with the Salamich.  Sil. 
Are thy tunes fire?  Niob. 
Are yours death?  Sil. 
No, but when I have heard thy voice, I am content to die.  Niob. 
I will sing to content thee.  Cantant. Sil. 
Inconstant Niobe! unhappy Silvestris! yet had I rather she should rather love all then none: for now though I have no certainty, yet do I find a kind of sweetness.  Ram. 
Cruel Nisa, borne to slaughter men!  Mont. 
Coy Celia, bred up in skoftes!  Sil. 
Wavering, yet witty Niobe, but are we all met?  Ram. 
Yea, and met withal, if your fortunes be answerable to mine, for I find my Mistress immovable, and the hope I have is to despair.  Mont. 
Mine in pride intolerable, who biddeth me look for no other comfort then contempt.  Sil. 
Mine is best of all, and worst, this is my hope, that either she will have many or none.  Ram. 
I fear our fortunes cannot thrive, for Erisychthon hath felled down the holy tree of Ceres, which will increase in her choler, and in her nymphs cruelty: let us see whether our Garlands be there which we hanged on that tree, and let us hang ourselves upon another.  Sil. 
A remedy for love irremovable, but I will first see whether all those that love Niobe, do like in the mean season I will content myself with my share.  Mont. 
Here is the tree. O mischief scarce to be believed, in possible to be pardoned!  Ram. 
Pardoned it is not, for Erisychthon perisheth with famine, and is able to starve those that look on him. Here hang our Garlands, something is written, read mine.  Sil. 
Cedit amor rebus, res age, tutus reis.  Mont. 
And mine.  Sil. 
Sat mihi si fancies, sit bene nota mihi.  
Now for myself,  
Victoriatecum stabit scilicet.  Mont. 
You see their posies is as their hearts; and their hearts as their speeches, cruel, proud and wavering: let us all to the Temple of Cupid, and entreat his favour, if not to obtain their loves, yet to revenge their hates, Cupid is a kind god, who knowing our unsported thoughts, will punish them, or release us. we will study what revenge to have, that our pains proceeding of our own minds, than plagues may also proceed from theirs. Are you all agreed?  Sil. 
I consent; but what if Cupid deny help?  Mont. 
Then he is no god.  Sil. 
But if he yield, what shall we ask?  Ram. 
Revenge.  Mon. 
Then let us prepare ourselves for Cupid's sacrifice.  Exeunt.  

ACTVS TERTIVS. SCENA secunda.  Erisicthon, Protea, Merchant. Erisict. 
Come, Protea, dear daughter, that name must thou buy too dear, necessity causeth thee to be sold, nature must frame thee to be contented. Thou seest in how short a space I have turned all my goods into my guts, where I feel a continual fire, which nothing can quench, my famine increaseth by eating, resembling the Sea which receiveth all things, and cannot be filled: life is sweet, hunger sharp, between them the contention must be short, unless thou, Protea, prolong it. I have acknowledged my offence against Ceres, make amends, I cannot, for the gods holding the balance in their hands, what recompense can equally weigh with their punishments? Or what is he that having but one ill thought of Ceres, that can raze it with a thousand dutiful actions? such is the difference, that none can find defence: this is the odds, we miserable, and men, they immortal, and gods.  Prot. 
Dear father, I will obey both to sale and slaughter, accounting it the only happiness of my life, should I live an hundred years, to prolong yours but one minute: I yield father, chop and change me, I am ready, but first let me make my prayers to Neptune, and withdraw yourself till I have done, long it shall not be, now it must be.  Erisict. 
Stay, sweet Protea, and that great god hear thy prayer, though Ceres stop her ears to mine.  Prot. 
Sacred Neptune, whose godhead conquered my maidenhead, be as ready to hear my passions, as I was to believe thine, and perform that now I entreat, which thou didst promise when thyself didst love. Let not me be a prey to this Merchant, who knows no other god then Gold, unless it be falsely swearing by a god to get gold; let me, as often as I be bought for money, or pawned for meat, be turned into a Bird, Hare, or Lamb, or any shape, wherein I may be safe, so shall I preserve mine own honour, my father's life, and never repent me of thy love, and now bestir thee, for of all men, I hate that Merchant, who, if he find my beauty worth one penny, will put it to use to gain ten, having no Religion in his mind, nor word in his mouth but money. Neptune, hear now or never. Father, I have done.  Erisict. 
In good time, Protea, thou hast done, for lo, the Merchant keepeth not only day, but hour.  Prot. 
If I had not been here, had I been forfeited?  Erisict. 
No; Protea, but thy father famished. Here, Gentleman, I am ready with my daughter.  Prot. 
Gentleman?  Mar. 
Yea, Gentleman, fair maid, my conditions make me no less.  Prot. 
Your conditions in deed brought in your obligations, your obligations, your Usury, your Usury, your Gentry.  Mar. 
Why, do you judge no merchants Gentlemen?  Prot. 
Yes, many, and some no men.  Mar. 
You shall be well entreated at my hands.  Prot. 
It may. commanded I will not be.  Mar. 
If you be mine by bargain, you shall.  Prot. 
Father, hath this Merchant also bought my mind?  Erisict. 
He cannot buy that, which cannot be sold.  Mar. 
Here is the money.  Erisict. 
Here the maid: farewell, my sweet daughter, I commit thee to the gods, and this man's courtesy, who I hope will deal no worse with thee, than he would have the gods with him, I must be gone, left I do starve as I stand.  Exit. Prot. 
Farewell, dear Father, I will not cease continually to pray to Ceres, for thy recovery.  Mar. 
You are now mine, Protea.  Prot. 
And mine own.  Mar. 
In will, not power.  Prot. 
In power if I will.  Mar. 
I perceive, Nettles gently touched, sting, but roughly handled, make no smart.  Prot. 
Yet roughly handled, Nettles are Nettles, and a Wasp is a Wasp, though she lose her sting.  Mar. 
But then they do no harm.  Prot. 
Nor good.  Mar. 
Come with me, and you shall see, that Merchants know their good, as well as Gentlemen.  Prot. 
Sure I am, they have gentlemen's goods.  Exeunt.   

ACTVS QVARTVS.  

SCENA PRIMA.  Ramis, Montanus, Silvestris, Cupid. Ram. 
This is the Temple of our great god, let us offer our sacrifice.  Mont. 
I am ready.  Sil. 
And I. Cupid, thou god of love, whose arrows have pierced our hearts, give ear to our plaints.  Cup. 
If you come to Cupid, speak boldly, so must lovers, speak faithfully, so must speeders.  Ram. 
These ever burning Lamps, are signs of my never to be quenched flames; this bleeding heart, in which yet sticks the head of the golden shaft, is the lively picture of inward torments: mine eyes shall bedew thine Altars with tears, and my sighs cover thy Temple with a dark smoke, pity poor Ramis.  Mont. 
With this distaff have I spun, that my exercises may be as womanish as my affections, and so did Hercules: and with this halter will I hang myself, if my fortunes answer not my deserts, and so did Iphis. To thee, divine Cupid, I present not a bleeding, but a bloodless heart, dried only with sorrow, and worn with faithful service.  
This picture Toffer, carved with no other instrument than Love; pity poor Montanus.  Sil. 
This fan of Swans and Turtles feathers, is token of my truth and jealousy: jealousy, without which love is dotage, and with which love is madness, without the which love is lust, and with which love is folly. This heart, neither bleeding nor bloodless, but swollen with sighs, I offer to thy godhead, protesting, that all my thoughts are as my words without lust; and all my love, as my fortune without sweetness. This Garland of flowers, which hath all colours of the Rainbow, witnesseth that my heart hath all torments of the world: pity poor Silvestris.  Cup. 
I accept your offers not without cause, and wonder at your loves, not without pleasure: but be your thoughts as true as your words?  Ram. 
Thou Cupid, that givest the wound, knowest the heart, for as impossible it is to conceal our affections, as to resist thy force.  Cup. 
I know, that where mine arrow lighteth, there breedeth love, but shooting every minute a thousand shafts, I know not on whose heart they light, though they fall on no place but hearts. What are your mistresses?  Ram. 
Ceres' maidens: mine most cruel, which she calleth constancy.  Mont. 
Mine most fair, but most proud.  Sil. 
Mine most witty, but most wavering.  Cup. 
Is the one cruel, th'other coy, the third inconstant?  Ram. 
Too cruel.  Mont. 
Too coy.  Sil. 
Too fickle.  Cup. 
What do they think of Cupid?  Ram. 
One saith he hath no eyes, because he hits he knows not whom.  Mont. 
Th'other, that he hath no ears, to hear those that call.  Sil. 
The third, that he hath no nose, for savours are not found of lovers.  Ram. 
All, that he hath no taste, because sweet and sour is all one.  Mont. 
All, that he hath no sense, because pains are pleasures, and pleasures pains,  Sil. 
All, that he is a foolish god, working without reason, and suffering the repulse without regard.  Cup. 
Dare they blaspheme my godhead, which jove doth worship, Neptune reverence, and all the gods tremble at? To make them love, were a revenge too gentle for Cupid: to make you hate, a recompense too small for lovers. But of that anon: what have you used in love?  Ram. 
All things that may procure love, gifts, words, oaths, sighs, and swoonings.  Cup. 
What said they of gifts?  Mont. 
That affection could not be bought with gold,  Cup. 
What of words?  Ram. 
That they were golden blasts, out of Leaden bellows.  Cup. 
What of oaths?  Sil. 
That jupiter never swore true to Juno.  Cup. 
What of sighs?  Sil. 
That deceit kept a forge in the hearts of fools.  Cup. 
What of swoonings?  Mont. 
Nothing, but that they wished them deaths.  Cup. 
What reasons gave they, not to love?  Sil. 
Women's reasons, they would not, because they would not.  Cup. 
Well, then shall you see Cupid requite their reasons with his rigour. What punishment do you desire, that Cupid will deny?  Ram. 
Mine being so hard as stone, would I have turned to stone, that being to lovers pitiless, she may to all the world be senseless.  Mont. 
Mine being so fair and so proud, would I have turned into some flower, that she may know beauty is as fading as grass, which being fresh in the morning, is withered before night.  Sil. 
Mine divine, Cupid, whose affection nothing can make stayed, let her be turned to that Bird, that liveth only by air, and dieth if she touch the earth, because it is constant. The bird of Paradise, Cupid, that drawing in her bowels nothing but air, she may know her heart fed on nothing but fickleness.  Cup. 
Your revenges are reasonable, and shall be granted. Thou Nisa, whose heart no tears could pierce, shalt with continual waves be wasted: in stead of thy fair hair, shalt thou have green moss, thy face of flint, because thy heart is of marble, thine ears shall be holes for fishes, whose ears were more deaf than fishes. Thou Celia whom beauty made proud, shalt have the fruit of beauty, that is, to fade whiles it is flourishing, and to blast before it is blown. Thy face, as fair as the Damask rose, shall perish like the Damask rose, the canker shall eat thee in the bud, and every little wind blow thee from the stalk, and then shall men in the morning wear thee in their Hats, and at night cast thee at their heels. Thou Niobe, whom nothing can please (but that which most displeaseth Cupid, inconstancy) shalt only breath and suck air for food, and wear feathers for silk, being more wavering than air, and lighter than feathers. This will Cupid do. Therefore, when next you shall behold your Ladies, do but send a faithful sigh to Cupid, and there shall arise a thick mist which Proserpine shall send, and in the moment you shall be revenged, and they changed, Cupid prove himself a great god, and they peevish girls.  Ram. 
With what sacrifice shall we show ourselves thankful, or how may we requite this benefit?  Cup. 
You shall yearly at my Temple offer true hearts, and hourly bestow all your wits in loving devices, think all the time lost, that is not spent in love, let your oaths be without number, but not without truth, your words full of alluring sweetness, but not of broad flattery, your attires neat, but not womanish, your gifts of more price for the fine device, than the great value, and yet of such value, that the device seem not beggarly, nor yourselves blockish, be secret that worketh miracles, be constant that bringeth secrecy; this is all Cupid doth command. Away.  Ram. 
And to this we all willingly consent.  
Now what resteth, but revenge on them, that have practised malice on us, let mine be any thing, seeing she will not be only mine.  Mont. 
Let us not now stand wishing, but presently seek them out, using as great speed in following revenge, as we did in pursuing our love: certainly we shall find them about Ceres' tree, singing or sacrificing.  Sil. 
But shall we not go visit Erisychthon?  Mont. 
Not I, left he eat us, that devoureth all things; his looks are of force to famish: let us in, and let all Ladies beware to offend those in spite, that love them in honour, for when the Crow shall set his foot in their eye, and the black Ox tread on their foot, they shall find their misfortunes to be equal with their deformities, and men both to loathe, and laugh at them.  Exeunt.  

ACTVS QVARTVS. SCENA PRIMA.  Erisicthon, Protea, Petulius, siren. Erisict. 
Come, Protea, tell me, how didst thou escape from the Merchant?  Prot. 
Neptune, that great god, when I was ready to go with the Merchant into the ship, turned me to a Fisherman on the shore, with an Angle in my hand, and on my shoulder a net; the Merchant missing me, and yet finding me, asked me who I was, and whether I saw not a fair maiden? I answered no? He marveling and raging, was forced either to lose his passage, or seek for me among the Pebbles? To make short, a good wind caused him to go I know not whither, and me (thanks be to Neptune) to return home.  Erisict. 
Thou art happy, Protea, though thy Father be miserable: and Neptune gracious, though Ceres cruel escape from the Merchant, breedeth in me life, joy, and fullness.  Prot. 
My father cannot be miserable, if Protea be happy, for by selling me every day, he shall never want meat, nor I shifts to escape. And now, Father, give me leave to enjoy my Petulius, that on this unfortunate shore still seeks me sorrowing.  Erisict. 
Seek him, dear Protea; find and enjoy him; and live ever hereafter to thine own comforts, that hast hitherto been the preserver of mine.  Exit. Prot. 
ay me, behold, a siren haunts this shore, the gods forbid she should entangle my Petulius.  siren. Syr. 
Accursed men, whose loves have no other mean than extremities, nor hates end but mischief.  Prot. 
Unnatural monster, no maid that accuseth men, whose loves are built on truth, and whose hearts are removed by courtesy: I will hear the depth of her malice.  Syr. 
Of all creatures most unkind, most cunning, by whose subtleties I am half fish, half flesh, themselves being neither fish nor flesh, in love lukewarm, in cruelty red hot, if they praise, they flatter; if flatter, deceive; if deceive, destroy.  Prot. 
she rails at men, but seeks to entangle them, this slight is prepared for my sweet Petulius, I will withdraw myself close, for Petulius followeth, he will without doubt be enamoured of her, enchanted he shall not be, my charms shall countervail hers, it is he hath saved my Father's life with money, and must prolong mine with love.  Pet. 
I marvel, Protea is so far before me, if she run, i'll fly: sweet Protea, where art thou? it is Petulius calleth Protea.  Syr. 
Here cometh a brave youth, Now siren, leave out nothing that may allure, thy golden locks, thy enticing looks, thy tuned voice, thy subtle speech, thy fair promises, which never misled the heart of any but Ulysses.  Sing with a Glass in her hand and a Comb. Pet. 
What divine goddess is this? What sweet harmony? My heart is ravished with such tickling thoughts, and mine eyes stayed with such a bewitching beauty, that I can neither find the means to remove my affection, nor to turn aside my looks. Sing again siren.  
I yield to death, but with such delight, that I would not wish to live, unless it were to hear thy sweet lays.  Syr. 
Live still so thou love me: why standest thou amazed at the word Love?  Prot. 
It is high time to prevent this mischief: Now Neptune, stand to thy promise, and let me take suddenly the shape of an old man; so shall I mar what she makes.  Pet. 
Not yet come to myself, or if I be, I dare not credit mine ears. Love thee divine goddess? Vouchsafe I may honour thee, and live by the imagination I have of thy words and worthiness.  Syr. 
I am a goddess, but a Lady and a virgin, whose love if thou embrace, thou shalt live no less happy, than the gods in heaven.  Prot. 
Believe not this enchantress (sweet youth) who retaineth the face of a Virgin, but the heart of a Fiend, whose sweet tongue sheddeth more drops of blood, than it uttereth syllables.  Pet. 
Out dotterel, whose dim eyes cannot discern beauty, nor doting age judge of love.  Prot. 
If thou listen to her words, thou shalt not live to repent: for her malice is as sudden, as her joys are sweet.  Pet. 
Thy silver hairs are not so precious, as her golden locks, nor thy crooked age of that estimation, as her flowering youth.  Syr. 
That old man measureth the hot assault of love, with the cold skirmishes of age.  Prot. 
That young cruel resembleth old Apes, who kill by culling; from the top of this Rock whereon she sitteth, will she throw thee headlong into the Sea, whose song is the instrument of her witchcraft, never smiling but when she meaneth to smite, and under the flattery of love, practiseth the shedding of blood.  Pet. 
What are thou, which so blasphemest this divine creature?  Prot. 
I am the Ghost of Ulysses, who continually hover about these places, where this siren haunteth, to save those which otherwise should be spoiled: stop thine ears, as I did mine, and succour the fair, but by thy folly, the most infortunate Protea.  Pet. 
Protea? What dost thou hear, Petulius? Where is Protea?  Prot. 
In this thicket, ready to hang herself, because thou carest not for her, that did swear to follow: curse this hag, who only hath the voice and face of a Virgin, the rest all fish and feathers, and filth; follow me, and strongly stop thine ears, left the second encounter make the wound incurable.  Pet. 
Is this a siren, and thou Ulysses? cursed be that hellish carcase, and blessed be thy heavenly spirit.  Syr. 
I shrink my head for shame. O Ulysses, is it not enough for thee to escape, but also to teach others? Sing and die, nay die, and never sing more.  Prot. 
Follow me at this door, and out at the other.  Pet. 
How am I delivered! the old man is vanished, and here for him stands Protea.  Prot. 
Here standeth Protea, that hath saved thy life, thou must also prolong hers: but let us into the woods, and there I will tell thee how I came to Ulysses, and the sum of all my fortunes, which happily will breed in thee both love and wonder.  Pet. 
I will, and only love Protea, and never cease to wonder at Protea.  Exeunt.   

ACTVS Quintus.  

SCENA PRIMA.  Ceres, Cupid, Tirtena. Cer. 
Cupid, thou hast transformed my Nymphs and incensed me, them to shapes unreasonable, me to anger immortal, for at one time I am both robbed of mine honour and my Nymphs.  Cup. 
Ceres, thy Nymphs were stubborn, and thyself speaking so imperiously to Cupid, somewhat stately. If you ask the cause in choler, Sic volo, sic jubeo: if in courtesy, Quae venu ex merito poena dolenda venit. They were disdainful, and have their deserts; thou Ceres, dost but govern the guts of men, I the hearts: thou seekest to starve Erisychthon with thy ministered famine, whom his daughter shall preserve by my virtue love.  Cer. 
Thou art but a god Cupid.  Cup. 
No Ceres, but such a god as maketh thunder fall out of jove's hand, by throwing thoughts into his heart, and to be more terrified with the sparkling of a Lady's eye, than men with the flashes of his lightning: such a god that hath kindled more fire in Neptune's bosom, than the whole Sea which he is king of can quench: such power have I, that Pluto's never dying fire, doth but scorch in respect of my flames. Diana hath felt some motions of love, Vesta doth, Ceres shall.  Cer. 
Art thou so cruel?  Cup. 
To those that resist, a Lion, to those that submit, a Lamb.  Cer. 
Canst thou make such difference in affection, and yet shall it all be love?  Cup. 
Yea, as much as between sickness and health, though in both be life: those that yield and honour Cupid, shall possess sweet thoughts, and enjoy pleasing wishes: the other shall be tormented with vain imaginations and impossible hopes.  Cer. 
How may my Nymphs be restored?  Cu. 
If thou restore Erisychthon, they embrace their loves, and all offer sacrifice to me.  Cer. 
Erisychthon did in contempt hew down my sacred tree.  Cup. 
Thy Nymphs did in disdain, scorn my constant love.  Cer. 
He slew most cruelly my chaste Fidelia, whose blood lieth yet on the ground.  Cup. 
But Diana hath changed her blood to fresh flowers, which are to be seen on the ground.  Cer. 
What honour shall he do to Ceres? What amends can he make to Fidelia?  Cup. 
All Ceres grove shall he deck with Garlands, and account every tree holy; a stately monument shall he erect, in remembrance of Fidelia, and offer yearly sacrifice.  Cer. 
What sacrifice shall I and my Nymphs offer thee? For I will do any thing to restore my Nymphs, and honour thee.  Cup. 
You shall present in honour of my mother Venus, Grapes and Wheat, for Sine Cerere & Baccho friget Venus. You shall suffer your Nymphs to play, sometimes to be idle, in the favour of Cupid, for Otiasitollas, periere Cupidinis arcus. So much for Ceres. Thy Nymphs shall make no vows to continue Virgins, nor use words to disgrace love, nor fly from opportunities that kindle affections: if they be chaste, let them not be cruel; if fair, not proud; if loving not inconstant. Cruelty is for Tigers, pride for Peacocks, inconstancy for fools.  Cer. 
Cupid, I yield, and they shall: but sweet Cupid, let them not be deceived by flattery, which taketh the shape of affection, nor by lust, which is clothed in the habit of love; for men have as many slights to delude, as they have words to speak.  Cup. 
Those that practise deceit, shall perish: Cupid favoureth none but the faithful.  Cer. 
Well, I will go to Erisychthon, and bring him before thee.  Cup. 
Then shall thy Nymphs recover their fames, so as they yield to love.  Cer. 
They shall.  Exeunt.  

ACTVS Quintus. SCENA PRIMA.  Petulius, Protea. Pet. 
A strange discourse, Protea, by which I find the gods amorous, and virgin's immortal goddesses, full of cruelty, and men of unhappiness.  Prot. 
I have told both my Father's misfortunes, grown by stoutness, and mine by weakness, his thwarting of Ceres, my yielding to Neptune.  Pet. 
I know, Protea, that hard iron falling into fire, waxeth soft, and then the tender heart of a Virgin being in love, must needs melt: for what should a fair young and witty Lady answer, to the sweet enticements of love, but,  Molle meum levibus cour est violabile telis. Prot. 
I have heard too, that hearts of men stiffer than steel, have by love been made softer than wool, and then they cry,  Omnia vincit amor, & nos cedamus amori. Pet. 
Men have often feigned sighs.  Prot. 
And women forged tears.  Pet. 
Suppose I love not.  Prot. 
Suppose I care not.  Pet. 
If men swear and lie, how will you try their loves?  Prot. 
If women swear they love, how will you try their dissembling?  Pet. 
The gods put wit into women.  Prot. 
And nature deceit into men.  Pet. 
I did this but to try your patience.  Prot. 
Nor I, but to prove your faith. But see, Petulius, what miraculous punishments here are for deserts in love; this Rock was a Nymph to Ceres, so was this Rose, so that Bird.  Pet. 
All changed from their shapes?  Prot. 
All changed by Cupid, because they disdained love, or dissembled in it.  Pet. 
A fair warning to Protea; I hope she will love without dissembling.  Prot. 
An Item for Petulius, that he delude not those that love him; for Cupid can also change men. Let us in.  Exeunt.  

ACTVS Quintus. SCENA QVARTA.  Ramis, Silvestris, Montanus. Ram. 
This goeth luckily, that Cupid hath promised to restore our mistresses, and Ceres, that they shall accept our loves.  Mont. 
I did ever imagine, that true love would end with sweet joys, though so was begun with deep sighs.  Sil. 
But how shall we look on them when we shall see them smile? We must, and perchance they will frown.  Ram. 
Push, let us endure the bending of their fair brows, and the scorching of their sparkling eyes, so that we may possess at last the depth of their affections.  Mont. 
Possess? Never doubt it, for Ceres hath restored Erisychthon, and therefore will persuade with them, nay, command them.  Sil. 
If it come by commandment of Ceres, not their own motions, I rather they should hate: for what joy can there be in our lives, or in our loves sweetness, when every kiss shall be sealed with a curse, and every kind word proceed of fear, not affection? enforcement is worse than enchantment.  Ram. 
Art thou so superstitious in love, that wast wont to be most careless? Let them curse all day, so I may have but one kiss at night.  Mont. 
Thou art worse than Silvestris, he not content without absolute love, thou with indifferent.  Sil. 
But here cometh Ceres with Erisychthon: let us look demurely, for in her heart she hates us deeply.   

ACTVS Quintus. SCENA ultima.  Cupid, Crees, Nymphs, Erisicthon, Petulius, Protea. Erisict. 
I will hallow thy woods with solemn feasts, and honour all thy Nymphs with due regard.  Cer. 
Well, do so, and thank Cupid that commands, nay, thank my foolish Nymphs, that know not how to obey; here be the lovers ready at receipt: How now Gentlemen, what seek you?  Ram. 
Nothing but what Ceres would find.  Cer. 
Ceres hath found those, that I would she had lost, vain lovers.  Ram. 
Ceres may lose that, that Cupid would save, true lovers.  Cer. 
You think so one of another.  Sil. 
Cupid knoweth so of us all.  Cer. 
You might have made me a counsel of your loves.  Mont. 
I madame, if love would admit counsel.  Cer. 
Cupid, here is Erisychthon in his former state, restore my Nymphs to theirs, then shall they embrace these lovers, who wither out their youth.  Erisict. 
Honoured be mighty Cupid, that makes me live.  Pet. 
Honoured be mighty Cupid, that makes me love.  Prot. 
And me.  Cer. 
What, more lovers yet? I think it be impossible for Ceres to have any follow her in one hour, that is not in love in the next.  Cup. 
Erisychthon, be thou careful to honour Ceres, and forget not to please her Nymphs. The faithful love of thy daughter Protea, hath wrought both pity in me to grant her desires, and to release thy punishments. Thou Petulius shalt enjoy thy love, because I know thee loyal.  Pet. 
Then shall Petulius be most happy.  Prot. 
And Protea most fortunate.  Cup. 
But do you, Ramis, continue your constant love, and you, Montanus, and you, Silvestris.  Ram. 
Nothing can alter our affections which increase, while the means decrease, and wax stronger in being weakened.  Cup. 
Then Venus, send down that shower, wherewith thou wert wont to wath those that do thee worship, and let love by thy beams, be honoured in all the world and feared, wished for, and wondered at: here are thy Nymphs, Ceres.  Ram. 
Whom do I see? Nisa?  Mont. 
Divine Celia, fairer than ever she was!  Sil. 
My sweet Niobe.  Cer. 
Why stare you, my Nymphs, as amazed triumph rather because you have your shapes: this great god Cupid, that for your prides and follies changed, hath by my prayer and promise restored you.  Cup. 
You see, Ladies, what it is to make a mock of love, or a scorn of Cupid; see where your lovers stand, you must now take them for your husbands; this is my judgement, this is Ceres' promise.  Ram. 
Happy Ramis.  Mont. 
Happy Montanus.  Sil. 
Happy Silvestris.  Cer. 
Why speak you not, Nymphs? This must be done, and you must yield.  Nisa. 
Not I.  Niob. 
Nor I.  Cel. 
Nor I.  Cer. 
Not yield? Then shall Cupid in his fury turn you again to senseless, and shameful shapes.  Cup. 
Will you not yield? How say you Ramis? do your loves continue? Are your thoughts constant? & yours Montanus? And yours Silvestris?  Ram. 
Mine most unspotted.  Mont. 
And mine.  Sil. 
And mine, Cupid, which nothing can alter.  Cup. 
And will you not yield, Virgins?  Nisa. 
Not I, Cupid, neither do I thank thee that I am restored to life, nor fear again to be changed to stone: for rather had I been worn with the continual beating of waves, then dulled with the importunities of men, whose open flatteries make way to their secret lusts, retaining as little truth in their hearts, as modesty in their words; how happy was Nisa, which felt nothing, pined yet, not felt the consumption! unfortunate wench, that now have ears to hear their cunning lies, and eyes to behold their dissembling looks! turn me, Cupid, again; for love I will not.  Ram. 
Miserable Ramis, unhappy to love, to change the Lady, accursed, and now lose her, desperate!  Cel. 
Nor I Cupid: well could I content myself to bud in the Summer, and to die in the Winter: for more good cometh of the Rose, then can by love: when it is fresh, it hath a sweet favour, love a sour taste: the Rose when it is old, loseth not his virtue; love when it is state waxeth loathsome. The Rose distilled with fire yieldeth sweet water: love in extremities kindles jealousies: in the Rose however it be, there is sweetness; in love nothing but bitterness. If men look pale, and swear, & sigh, then forsooth women must yield, because men say they love, as though our hearts were tied to their tongues, and we must choose them by appointment, ourselves feeling no affection, and so have our thoughts bound prentices to their words: turn me again. Yield I will not.  Mont. 
Which way shalt thou turn thyself, since nothing will turn her heart? Die, Montanus, with shame and grief, and both infinite.  Niob. 
Nor I Cupid: let me hang always in the air, which I found more constant than men's words: happy Niobe, that touched not the ground where they go, but always holding thy beak in the air, didst never turn back to behold the earth. In the heavens I saw an orderly course, in the earth nothing but disorderly love, and peevishness: turn me again, Cupid, for yield I will not.  Sil. 
I would myself were stone, flower, or fowl, seeing that Nisa hath a heart harder than stone, a face fairer than the Rose, and a mind lighter than feathers.  Cup. 
What have we here? Hath punishment made you perverse? Ceres, I vow here by my sweet mother Venus, that if they yield not, I will turn them again, not to flowers, or stones, or birds, but to monsters, no less filthy to be seen, than to be named hateful: they shall creep that now stand, and be to all men odious, and be to themselves (for the mind they shall retain) loathsome.  Cer. 
My sweet Nymphs, for the honour of your sex, for the love of Ceres, for regard of your own country, yield to love, yield, my sweet Nymphs, to sweet love.  Nisa. 
Shall I yield to him that practised my destruction, and when his love was hottest, caused me to be changed to a rock?  Ram. 
Nisa, the extremity of love is madness, and to be mad is to be senseless, upon that Rock did I resolve to end my life: fair Nisa, forgive him thy change, that for himself provided a harder chance.  Cel. 
Shall I yield to him, that made so small account of my beauty, that he studied how he might never behold it again?  Mont. 
Fair Lady, in the Rose did I always behold thy colour, and resolved by continual gazing to perish, which I could not do when thou wast in thine own shape, thou wast so coy and swift in flying from me.  Niob. 
Shall I yield to him that caused me have wings, that I might fly farther from him.  Sil. 
Sweet Niobe, the farther you did seem to be from me, the nearer I was to my death, which to make it more speedy, wished thee wings to she into the air, and myself lead on my heels to sink into the Sea.  Cer. 
Well, my good Nymphs, yield let Ceres entreat you yield.  Nisa. 
I am content, so as Ramis, when he finds me cold in love, or hard in belief, he attribute it to his own folly; in that I retain some nature of the Rock, he changed me into.  Ram. 
O my sweet Nisa, be what thou wilt, and let all thy imperfections be excused by me, so thou but say thou lovest me.  Nisa. 
I do.  Ram. 
Happy Ramis.  Celia. 
I consent, so as Montanus, when in the midst of his sweet delight, shall find some bitter overthwarts, impute it to his folly, in that he suffered me to be a Rose, that hath prickles with her pleasantness, as he is like to have with my love shrewdness.  Mont. 
Let me bleed every minute with the prickles of the Rose, so I may enjoy but one hour the savour: love, fair Celia, and at thy pleasure comfort, and confound.  Celia. 
I do.  Mont. 
Fortunate Montanus.  Niob. 
I yielded first in mind, though it be my course last to speak: but if Silvestris find me not ever at home, let him curse himself that gave me wings to fly abroad, whose feathers if his jealousy shall break, my policy shall nip.  Now custodiri, ni velit ulla potest. Sil. 
My sweet Niobe, fly whither thou wilt all day, so I may find thee in my nest at night, I will love thee, and belove thee.  Sit modo non feci, dicere lingua memor. Cup. 
I am glad you are all agreed, enjoy your loves, and every one his delight. Thou Erisychthon art restored of Ceres, all the lovers pleased by Cupid, she joyful, I honoured. Now, Ladies, I will make such unspotted love among you, that there shall be no suspicion nor jar, no unkindness nor jealousy: but let all Ladies hereafter take heed, that they resist not love, which worketh wonders.  Cer. 
I will charm my Nymphs, as they shall neither be so stately, as not to stoop to love, nor so light as presently to yield.  Cup. 
Here is none but is happy: but do not as Hippomanes did, when by Venus' aid he won Atlanta, defile her Temple with unchaste desires and forgot to sacrifice vows. I will soar up into heaven, to settle the loves of the gods, that in earth have disposed the affections of men.  Cer. 
I to my harvest, whose corn is now come out of the blade, into the ear, and let all this amorous troop to the temple of Venus, there to consummate what Cupid hath commanded.  Erisict. 
in the honour of Cupid, and Ceres, will solemnize this feast within my house, and learn, if it be not too late, again to love. But you Foresters were unkind, that in all my maladies would not visit me.  Mont. 
Thou knowest, Erisychthon, that lovers visit none but their mistresses.  Erisict. 
Well, I will not take it unkindly, since all ends in kindness.  Cer. 
Let it be so; these lovers mind nothing what we say.  Ram. 
Yes, we attend on Ceres.  Cer. 
Well, do.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.