engraved title page 
To this is added ARIADNE 'S Complaint in imitation of ANGVILLARA; Written by the Translater of TASSO'S AMINTA.  
Meglio è il poco terreno been coltuiare, che'l molto lasciar per mal governo miserament imboschire. Sannazo.  
LONDON, Printed by AVG: MATHEWES for WILLIAM LEE, and are to be sold at the Sign of the Turks Head in Fleetstreet. 1628.   

The Speakers are  

CUPID, in Shepherd's weeds.  
DAPHNE, companion of SILVIA.  
SILVIA, beloved of AMINTA.  
AMINTA, lover of SILVIA.  
THIRSIS, companion of AMINTA.  
satire, in love with SILVIA.  
NERINA, Nymph.  
ERGASTUS, Shepherd.  
ELPINE, Shepherd.  
CHORUS, of Shepherds.    

The Prologue.  CUPID in habit of a Shepherd. 
WHo would believe that in this human form,  
And under these mean Shepherd's weeds,  
A god head? nor yet of the lower rank,  
But the most mighty 'mong the gods; whose power were hid  
Makes oft the bloody Sword of angry Mars  
Fall from his hand; stern Neptune hurl away  
His powerful trident; and great jove lay by  
His thunderbolt: and thus attyr'de, I hope  
My mother Venus shall have much ado  
To find her Cupid. For the troth to tell,  
Sh'has made me play the runaway with her:  
Because (forsooth) she will sole mistress be,  
And to her pleasure bind my shafts and me;  
And (vain ambitious woman as she is)  
Would tie me to live still 'mongst Crowns, & Sceptres,  
And to high Courts confine my power and me;  
And to my under-followers grants to live  
Here in these woods; and to advance their powers,  
o'er silly Shepherds breasts; but I that am  
No child, (though childish be my gate and looks)  
Will for this once, do as shall please me best:  
For not to her, but me allotted were  
The ever awful brand, and golden bow:  
Therefore I purpose to conceal myself,  
And run from her entreats; (for other power  
Then to entreat, she shall not have o'er me:)  
I hear she haunts these groves, and promiseth  
Unto the Nymphs and Shepherds, which of them  
Will bring me to her, kisses for their pains,  
And more than kisses too; and cannot I  
To them shall hide me from her, liberal be  
Of kisses, and more too as well as she?  
The Nymphs I know will like my kisses best,  
When I shall woe them that am god of love:  
Therefore my mother doth but looze her pain,  
Here's none will bring her home her son again.  
But to be surer, that she may not know  
Or find me out by the vsd'e marks I bear,  
I laid my quiver, bow, and wings from me;  
Yet come I not hither unarmed; this rod  
I carry is my brand transformed thus,  
And breathes out unseen flame at every poor;  
And this dart (though it have no golden head)  
Of heu'nly temper is; and where it lytes  
Enforceth love; and even this day shall make  
A deep and cureless wound in the hard breast  
Of the most cruel Nymph, that ever yet  
Hath been a follower of Diana's train;  
Nor will I pity Silvia more, (for so  
Th'obdurate stony-brested Nymph is called)  
Then erst I did the gentle-hearted Swain  
Aminta, many winters since, when he  
(Poor wretch) then young, followed her younger steps  
From wood to wood in every game and sport:  
And for more sure effecting my intent,  
I'll pause a while till some remorse and pity  
Of the poor Shephedrs sufferings, have a little  
Thawde the hard ice congealed about her breast  
With maiden peevishness; and when I find  
She grows more pliant, will I launch her breast:  
And this to do with better ease and art,  
Amongst the feasting troops of the crowned Shepherds  
That hither come to sport o'hollydayes,  
I'll put myself; and here, even in this place  
I'll give the speeding blow unseen, unknown.  
To day these Woods shall hear another voice  
Of love then ere before, and more refin'de;  
My god head here shall in itself appear  
Present no longer in my Ministers:  
I'll breathe soft thoughts into their courser breasts,  
And make their tongues in smoothest numbers move;  
For wheresoever I am, still am I Love;  
No less in Shepherds then in greatest Peers;  
And inequality in people, I  
Can temper as I please, such is my power.  
The Rural sound of homely Shepherds reed  
I can make equal with the learned'st lyre,  
And if my mother (which disdains forsooth  
To see me here) be ignorant of this,  
she's blind, not I  
Whom the blind world reputes blind wrongfully.   

To the Reader.  
ERe thou readest farther, let me entreat thee Reader (in favour of Tasso, the great Author of this small Poem) to correct these following faults escaped in the Printing.  
In Act. Pri: Scene: Pri for theenes, read thiefs. In the next line for whice, r. which. In Act. Prim. Sce. second. for giddy Bees, read greedy Bees. In the first Chorus, for Was then, read, Was not then. And in the same Chorus, for Live we while, read Love we while. In Act. secund. Scen. prim. for eyelids fault, read eyelids foult. In the second Chorus, for readest thine, read readest thy. In Act. Ter. Scen. Pri. for foft best, r. soft breast. In the next page for he went, r. he wont. In the end of the Scene for they it may, r. that it may. In the third Chorus for Lone no price, read Love no price. In Act. Quint. Scen. Pri. for tenter lap, r. tender lap. In VENUSSES Search, for your hairs keys, r. your heart's keys.   


Actus Primus.  

Scene: Prima.  Daphne. Silvia. 
Is't possible (Silvia) thou canst resolve  
To spend the fair hours of thy flowering youth  
With such contempt of Venus, and her Son;  
And hast no more desire to be a mother,  
And leave a part of thee (when thou art dead)  
Living behind thee? Change (young fondling) change  
Thy mind; and do not lead a life so strange.  Sil. 
Daphne, let others pleasure take in love,  
(If in such thraledome any pleasure be;)  
The life I lead contents me well enough;  
To chase the flying Deer over the lawn  
With Hound, or well-aym'de Flight, and while I find  
shafts in my quiver, and beasts for my prey,  
I'll want no sport to pass the time away.  Da: 
Fine sports no doubt, and sure a goodly life  
For silly minds that never tasted other,  
And for that cause alone it pleases thee:  
●o duller ages heretofore could think  
●cornes and water the best meat and drink,  
●efore the use of corn and wine was found,  
●ut now theyare only eat and drunk by beasts:  
And hadst thou but once proved the thousand part  
Of the dear joys those happy lovers feel,  
That truly love, and are beloved again,  
Thou wouldst with sighs repent thy time misspent,  
And only call a lover's life Content.  
And say, O my past springtyde, how in vain  
Spent I thy widowy nights? how many days  
In fruitless loneness, which I now be wail?  
Why knew I not love's sweets have this condition  
To bring new joys with every repetition?  
Change, change thy mind (young silly one) and know  
Too late repentance is a double woe.  Sil. 
When I repent the thoughts I carry now,  
Or say such words as these thou feigning framest  
To sport thyself withal; the Floulds shall run  
Back to their Springs, the Wolf shall fearing fly  
The silly Lamb, and the young Leurett shall  
Pursue the speedy Grayhound o'er the plain,  
The Bear shall in the toiling Ocean breed,  
And finny Dolphin on the mountains feed.  Da: 
I so, just such another peevish thing  
Like thee was I, when I was of thy years;  
So looked, so pac'de, so golden trest ', so ruddy  
My 'ticing lip, so in my rising cheek  
The damask rose was blown; and I remember  
Just such as thine is now, my mind was then,  
And even such silly pastimes as thine be  
I likewise vsd'e; as with limned twiggs to catch  
Unwares the feathered singers in the wood,  
Track the Deeres footing, till I had entrapped them  
And such like; when a gentle lover wood me,  
With such a peevish grace hang down the head  
And blush for scorn I would, as oft thou dost;  
And that unseemly form me thought became me,  
Nay even disliked what others lik'de in me,  
So much I counted it a fault, and shame  
To be desired or loved of any one;  
But what cannot time bring to pass? and what  
Cannot a true and faithful lover do  
With importunity, desert and love?  
And I confess plainly the troth to thee  
So was I vanquished; nor with other arms  
Then humble sufferance, sighs, and pity craving:  
But then I soon found in one short nights shade,  
What the broad light of many hundred days  
Can never teach me; then I could recall  
Myself, shake off my blind simplicity,  
And sighing say, here Cynthia take thy bow,  
Quiver, and horn, for I renounce thy life.  
And I hope yet to see another day  
Thy wild thoughts bridled too, and thy hard breast  
Yield, and grow softer at Aminta's plaints.  
Is he not young and fresh, and lovely too?  
Does he not love thee dear ', and thee alone?  
For though beloved of many Nymphs, he never  
For others love, or thy hate, leaves to love thee.  
Nor canst thou think him to mean borne for thee;  
For (be thou daughter of Cidippe fair,  
Whose sire was god of this our noble flood)  
Yet is Aminta old Silvanus' heir,  
Of the high seed of Pan the Shepherd's god.  
The sleeke-browd ' Amarillis (if ere yet  
In any fountains glass thou saw'st thyself)  
Is not a whit less lovely than thou art;  
Yet all her sweet allurements he rejects,  
And madly dotes on thy despiteful loathe.  
Well, but suppose now, (and the heavens forbidden  
It come to more than supposition)  
That he falling from thee, his mind remove,  
And cleave to her, that so deserves his love;  
What will become of thee then? with what eye  
Wilt thou behold him in an others arms  
Happily twyn'de, and thyself laughed to scorn?  Silius: 
Be it to ' Aminta and his loves, as best  
Shall like himself; I'm at a point for one;  
And so he be not mine, be ' he whose he list.  
But mine he cannot be against my will,  
Nor yet though he were mine, would I be his.  Da: 
Fie, whence grows this thy hate?  Silius: 
Why from his love.  Da: 
Too soft a sire to breed so rough a Son;  
But who ere saw Tigers of mild Lambs bred,  
Or the black Rau'ne hatched of a silver Dove?  
Thou dost but mock me Silvia, dost thou not?  Silius: 
I hate his love, that doth my honour hate;  
And loved him, whilst he sought what I could grant.  Da: 
'tis thou offendest thyself; he doth but crane  
The same for thee, that he desires to have.  Silius: 
I prithee Daphne either speak no more,  
Or somewhat else that I may answer to.  Da: 
See fondling see  
How ill this peevishness of youth becomes thee;  
Tell me but this yet, if some other loved thee,  
Is this the welcome thou wouldst give his love?  Silius: 
Such and worse welcome they deserve, that are  
These theenes of silly maids virginities,  
Whice you call lovers, and I enemies.  Da: 
Is the ram then to th'ewe an enemy,  
The bull to th' bayfer, is the turtle too,  
An enemy to ' his mate that love's him so?  
And is the Spring the season of debate,  
That (sweetly smiling) leads to coupling bands  
The beast, the fish, the fowl, women and men?  
And see'st thou not that e'ury thing that is,  
Breathes now a sovereign air of love, and sweetness,  
Pleasure, and health? behold that Turtle there  
With what a wooing murmur he sighs love  
To his beloved; hark of yond Nitingall  
That hops from bough to bough,  
Singing I love I love; nay more than these,  
The speckled Serpent lays his venom by,  
And greedy runs to ' embrace his loved one;  
The Tiger love's, and the proud Lion too;  
Thou only savage more than savage beasts  
Barrest against love thy more-then-yron breast.  
But what speak I of Lions, Tigers, Snakes,  
That sensible are? why all these trees do love;  
See with what amorous and redoubled twinings  
The loving Vine her husband fair entangles;  
The Beech tree love's the Beech, the Pine the Pine,  
The Elm the Elm love's, and the Willows too  
A mutual languish for each other feel.  
That Oak that seems so rough and so impenetrable,  
Doth no less feel the force of amorous flame;  
And hadst thou but the spirit and sense of love,  
His hidden language thou wouldst understand.  
Wilt thou be less and worse than trees and plants,  
In being thus an enemy to Love?  
Fie silli'one fie; these idle thoughts remove.  Silius: 
When I hear trees sigh (as belike they do)  
I'll be content to be a lover too.  Da: 
Well, mock my words, laugh my advice to scorn,  
(Deaf to Love's sound, and simple as thou art)  
But go thy ways; be sure the time will come  
When thou shalt fly from the now-loved fount  
Where thou beholdest and so admyr'st thyself;  
Fearing to view thyself so wrinkled fowl  
●s age will make thee; but I note not this  
●o thee above the rest, for though age be  
●uill, 'tis so to all as well as thee.  
Heard'st thou what Elpine spoke this other day,  
The reverend Elpine to the fair Licoris,  
Licoris whose eyes wrought upon him that  
Which his songs should have wrought upon her heart,  
●f Love could learn but to give each his due)  
He told it (Batto ' and Thirsis being by,  
●hose two learned lovers) in Aurora's den,  
●●er whose door is writ— hence ye profane,  
●ye ye fare hence, which words he writ (said he)  
●hat in that high pitch sang of loves and arms,  
●nd when he died bequeathed his pipe to him;  
●here was (he said) low in th'infernal lake  
A dungeon dark, aye filled with noisome fumes  
●reath'd from the furnaces of Acaron,  
●nd there all cruel and ingrateful women  
●●ue in eternal horror, and are fed  
With only their own bootless plaints and cries.  
●ooke to't betimes, or I am sore afraid  
●here must a room be taken up for you,  
〈◊〉 quite this cruelty to others vsd'e.  
●nd 'twere but justice, that those fumes should draw  
● sea of sorrow from those eyes of thine,  
●hat pity could ne'er make to shed a tear:  
Well, run on thine own course, and mark the end.  Silius: 
But what did then Licoris (prithee tell me)  
What reply did she make to Elpine's words?  Da: 
How curious th' art in other folk's affairs,  
And careless quite in what concerns thyself?  
Why, with her eyes Licoris answered him.  Silius: 
How could she answer only with her eyes?  Da: 
Yes; her fair eyes wrapped in a sunny smile,  
Told Elpine this; Her heart and we are thine;  
More cannot she give, nor must thou desire.  
This were alone enough to satis sie  
And serve for full reward to a chaste lover,  
That held her eyes as true as they were fair,  
And put entire and hearty trust in them.  Silius: 
But wherefore does not he then trust her eyes?  Da: 
I'll tell thee; knowst thou not what Thirsis wri●  
When hurried so with love, and love's disdain  
He wont to wander all about the woods,  
In such a sort, as pity moved, and langhter  
'Mongst the young Swains and Nymphs that gaz'de o● him?  
Yet writ he nought that laughter did deserve,  
Though many things he did, deserved no less.  
He writ it on the barks of sundry trees,  
And as the trees, so grew his verse. 'Twas this—  
Deluding eyes, false mirhors of the heart,  
Full well I find how well ye can deceive:  
But what avails, if love enforce my will  
To'imbrace your harms, and dote upon you still?  Silius: 
Well thus we wast the time in idle chat,  
And I had half forgot, that 'tis to day  
We did appoint to meet in th'Oaken grove,  
To hunt an hour; I prithee if thou wilt,  
Stay for me till I have in yond fresh fount  
●ayd off the sweat and dust that yesterday  
●soyld me with, in chase of a swift do,  
That at the length I overtook, and kill'de.  Da: 
I'll stay for thee, and perhaps wash me too,  
But first I'll home a while, and come again,  
●or the day's younger than it seems to be.  
Go then, and stay there for me till I come;  
●nd in the mean time, think on my advice,  
●hat more imports thee, than the chase, or fount;  
●nd if thou dost not think so, thou must know  
Thou little knowst; and ought'st thy judgement bow  
To their direction that know more than thou.   

Actus Primus. Scene: Secunda.  Aminta. Thirsis. 
AT my laments I heard the rocks, the waters  
For pity answer; and at my complaint  
●he leau'de boughs murmur, as they grieved for me;  
●●t never saw, nor ever hope to see  
Pity in the fair and cruel (shall I say  
Woman or) tiger? for a woman she  
Denies to be, in thus denying me  
The pity this my miserable state  
Draws from things senseless, and inanimate.  Their: 
Lambs on the grass, the Wolf feeds on th● Lambe●  
Love (cruelest of things) with tears is fed.  
And though he ever feeds, is never full.  Am: 
Alas alas, love hath been with my tears  
Long since full fed, and now thirsts only for  
My blood; and long it shall not be, ere he  
And the fair Cruel drink it with their eyes.  Thy: 
Ay me, what sayest thou ' Aminta? Fie no more  
Of this strange dotage; be of comfort man  
And seek some other; others thou mayest find  
As true, as this is cruel, and unkind.  Am: 
Alas how weary'a work were it for me  
Other to seek, that cannot find myself;  
And having lost myself, what can I gain  
With busie'st search that shall requite the pain?  Thy: 
Despair not yet, unhappy though thou be,  
She may in time relent, and pity thee:  
Time makes the Tiger and the Lion tame.  Am: 
O but so long to hope and be delayed,  
Is worse than death to one in misery.  Thy: 
Perhaps thy sufferance shall not long endure;  
For maids so ' inconstant are of disposition,  
That as they're soon at odds, they're as soon won;  
Uncertain as the leaf Howne with each wind,  
And flexible as is the bladed grass.  
But gentle Shepherd, let me crave to know  
More throughly thy love's hard condition;  
For though I often heard thee say thou lov'st,  
Thou never told'st me yet, who 'twas thou lov'st;  
And well it fits the nearness of our lives,  
And friendship, that such counsels should be none  
Between us two, but free to both, as one.  Am: 
Thirsis, I am content to open to thee  
What the woods, hills, and floods are privy to,  
But no man knows: so near alas I find  
Th'approaching period of this loathed breath,  
That reason 'tis I leave some one behind,  
That may relate th'occasion of my death,  
And leave it written on some Beech-tree bark,  
near where my bloodless carcase shall be laid;  
That as the cruel Fair shall pass along,  
She may at pleasure spurn with her proud foot  
The unhappy bones,  
And smiling say; lo here, lo where he lies;  
The triumph and the trophy of mine eyes;  
And (to increase her fame,) rejoice to see  
In my sad end her beauty's victory  
Known to the Nymphs, and Shepherds far and near,  
Whom the report may thither guide: perhaps  
(Ab hopes too high) she may bestow a sigh,  
And though too late, with some compassion rue  
The loss of him dead, whom she living slew,  
And wish he lived again. But I digress.  Thy: 
On with thy story, for I long to hear't;  
Perhaps to better end than thou supposest.  Am: 
Being but a Lad, so young as yet scarce able  
To reach the fruit from the low-hanging boughs  
Of new grown trees; Inward I grew to be  
With a young maid, fullest of love and sweetness,  
That ere displayed pure gold tress to the wind;  
Thou knowst her mother hight Cidippe; no?  
Montano the rich Goteheard is her father:  
Silvia, fair Silvia 'tis I mean, the glory  
Of all these woods, and flame of every heart;  
'Tis she, 'tis she I speak of; long alas  
Lived I soneare her, and then loved of her,  
As like two turtles each in other joy'de;  
Near our abodes, and nearer were our bearts;  
Well did our years agree, better our thoughts;  
Together wove we nets t'intrapp the fish  
In floods and sedgy fleets; together set  
Pitfalls for birds; together the pyeed Buck  
And flying do over the plains we chased;  
And in the quarry ', as in the pleasure shar'de:  
But as I made the beasts my prey, I found  
My heart was lost, and made a prey to other.  
By little ' and little in my breast began  
To spring, I know not from what hidden root  
(Like th'her be that of itself is seen to grow)  
A strange desire, and love still to be near  
And hourly drink from the fair Sylvia's eyes  
A sweetness past all thought, but it had still  
(Me thought) a bitter farewell; oft I sighed,  
Yet knew no cause I had to sigh; and so  
Became betimes a lover, ere I known  
What love meant; but alas I known too soon;  
And in what sort, mark, and I'll tell thee  Their: 
Onn.  Am: 
All in the shade of a broad Beech-tree sitting,  
Silvia, Phillis, and myself together;  
A Bee, that all about the flowery meed  
Had honey gathered; flow to Phillis cheek;  
The rosy cheek mistaking for a rose,  
And there (belike) his little needle left:  
Phillis cries out, impatient of the pain  
Of her sharp sting; but th' everlovely Silvia  
Bade her be patiented; Phillis (said she) peace,  
And with a word or two I'll heal thy hurt,  
And take the sting, and soon the grief away;  
This secret erst the grave Aretia taught me,  
And her I gave (in recompense) the horn  
Of Ivory tipped with gold I want to were;  
This said, the libs of her fair sweetest mouth  
Upon th' offended cheek she laid; and straight,  
(O strange effect) whether with the sound it were  
Of her soft murmured verse of Magic power,  
Or rather (as I rather do believe)  
The virtue of her mouth,  
That what it toucheth, cures, Phillis was cured;  
And with the pain soon was the swelling gone.  
I, that till then ne'er dreamt of more delight,  
Then on the shine of her bright eyes to gaze,  
And joy to hear her speak, (music more sweet,  
Then makes the murmur of a slow pac'de brook,  
When 'tis with thousand little pebbles crossed;  
Or the wind prattling 'mongst the wanton leaves)  
'Gan then, even then to feel a new desire  
Possess me, of touching those dear lips with mine;  
And grown more subtle than I was before,  
(So love perhaps th'imagination whets,)  
I found this new deceit, whereby to ' aspire  
With greater ease to th'end of my desire;  
I feigned myself stung on the neither lip,  
In like sort with a Bee as Phillis was;  
And in such manner 'gan to moan myself,  
As th'help my tongue craved not, my looks implored;  
The harmless Silvia, pitying stratt my case,  
Offered her ready cure to my feigned hurt;  
But th' unfeigned wound I bleed of, deeper made,  
And fare more deadly, when those coral twins  
On mine she laid. Nor do the giddy Bees  
Gather from any flower honey so sweet,  
As I did from those freshest roses gather;  
Though bashful shame, and fear had taught to bar,  
Hot kisses from desire to press too fare,  
T'imbathe themselves; and did their heat withhold  
And kill, or made them slower and less bold.  
But while down to my bear't that sweetness glided,  
Mixed with a secret poison, such delight  
I inly felt, that feigning still the grief  
Of the sting had not left me yet; so dealt,  
That she the charm repeated sundry times:  
Since when till now, still more and more I find,  
For all her charm, she'has left the sting behind.  
Whose pain ere since hath so increased upon me,  
As my love-labouring breast could hold no longer,  
But that upon a time, when diverse Nymphs  
And Shepherds of us in a ring were sitting,  
Whilst the play was, each one should softly whisper  
Some word in th'ear of her that next him sat;  
Silvia (quoth I soft in her ear) for thee  
I pine, and dye, unless thou pity me.  
No sooner heard she this, but down she hangs  
The fair look, whence I might perceive to break  
A sudden and unwonted ruddiness,  
That seemed to breat he forth anger mixed with shame;  
Nor would she ' in other language answer me,  
Then such a troubled silence, as appeared  
Threatening and deadly; nor since then would ever  
Willingly see, or hear me: Thrice the Sun  
His yearly course hath run, thrice the green fields  
Hath the naked Sythman barbed; and three times hath  
The Winter robbed the trees of their green locks;  
That I have tried all means I could, t'appease her,  
And nought remains, but that I die to please her;  
And gladly would I dye, were I but sure  
'Twould either please, or but draw pity from her;  
Each were a blessing to me, though no doubt  
Her pity were of both the greater meed,  
And worthier recompense for all my love,  
And for my death; yet I were loath to wish  
Aught, that too rudely might those eyes molest,  
Or do the least offence to that dear breast.  Thy: 
Did she but hear thus much from thee, believest thou  
It would not make her love, or pity thee?  Am: 
I neither know, nor can I hope so much:  
She flies my speech, as th' Adder doth the charm,  Thy: 
Well be of comfort; my mind gives me yet,  
we'll find a mean that she shall hear thee speak  Am: 
'Twill come to nought; to beg such grace were vain,  
For me to speak, where speech no grace will gain.  Thy: 
For shame despair not thus.  Ami: 
Alas just cause  
Bids me despair; my cruel destiny  
Was read by the grave Mopso long agone,  
Mopso that knows the hid language of birds,  
And understands the force of herbs and founts.  Thy: 
What Mopo's this thou speakest on? is't not he  
That carries honey in his supple tongue,  
And friendly smiles for all he looks upon,  
But in his heart deceit, and hidden bears  
Under his coat a razor? shame befall him;  
The vild unlucky dooms he lewdly sells  
To silly fools with that grave look, and grace,  
Are far from truth; take't of my word, and trial.  
I'll rather hope (and sure my hope will thrive)  
That from this fellows idle auguryes  
Much happier fate will to thy love arise.  Am: 
If aught by proof thou knowst of him, good swain  
Hide it not from me?  Their: 
I'll tell thee willingly.  
When first my hap led me to know these woods,  
I knew this fellow, and esteemed him  
As thou dost: So it fortuned once, I had  
Desire and business to go see that great  
Wonder of Cities, at whose ancient feet  
The broad-famed river runs; and him I made  
Acquainted with my purpose: he replies,  
And thus began to preach; My son beware  
Now thou art going to that seat of fame,  
Where those deceitful crafty Citizens,  
And evil minded Courtiers live, and wont  
To scoff at us, and hold in such a scorn  
Our plain distrnstlesse homely carriage;  
Be well advised (my son) and press not there  
Where the fresh coloured robes with gold are wrought,  
Gay plumes, and dayly-varied dress shine;  
But above all, beware accursed Fate,  
Or thy youth's jollity conduct thee not  
Unto that magazine of restless chat,  
But fly that cursed and enchanted place.  
What place is that (quoth I?) 'tis there (said he)  
Where dwell th'enchantresses that have the power  
And art to make men, and their minds transparent;  
And what so Diamonds seem, and finest gold,  
But glass and copper are; those silver chests  
That seem full of rich treasure, are no more  
Than kennels full of filth, and cousin men;  
The walls are built too with that wondrous art,  
That they will speak, and answer them that speak;  
Nor in half words, and such imperfect sounds,  
As wont the Eccos that here haunt our grounds,  
But every word whole, and entire repeating:  
Nay more than this, the tables, chairs, and stools,  
Hang, and all that to each room belongs,  
Have tongue and voice, and never silent are;  
False lies there, formed into the shape of babes,  
Are hopping all about; and be he dumb  
That enters there, finds straight a tongue to prate  
And lie with; but there is yet worse than this,  
May happen thee; thou mayst perhaps be turned  
Into a beast, a tree, a flood, a flame,  
Into a flood of tears, a fire of sighs.  
All this he told me; and I forward went  
To see the City with this false belief;  
And (as good hap would have it,) chanced to pass  
Along the place where stands that blessed dwelling,  
Whence I might hear breath out such melody,  
By Swans, and Nymphs, and heavenly Sirens made,  
With voice so shrill, so sweet and full of pleasure,  
That all amazed, I stayed to gaze, and listen:  
Before the door there stood (me seemed) as guard  
Of the fair shows within, a man in show  
And of proportion stout, and knightly hue;  
Such as (for what he seemed me) made me doubt  
Whether for Arms he were, or counsel fit:  
With a benign, and mild, though grave aspect,  
He highly-faire bespoke, and led me in;  
He great in place, me poor and homely man:  
But then, what did I see? what did I hear?  
Celestial goddesses, and lovely Nymphs,  
New lights, new Orpheusses; and others too  
Vnuayled unclouded, as the virgin-morne,  
When silver dews her golden rays adorn.  
There Phoebus shone, enlightening all about,  
With all his sister Muses; among whom  
Satt Elpine; at which sight, all in a trice  
I felt myself grow greater than myself,  
Full of new power, full of new deity?  
And sang of wars, and Knightly deeds in Arms,  
Scorning the rural Songs I want to make;  
And though I after did (for others pleasure)  
Turn to these woods again, yet I retained  
Part of that Spirit; nor yet sounds my pipe  
So lowly as before, but shriller far.  
And through the woods rings with a trumpets voice.  
Afterward Mopso heard me '; and with so vild,  
And sour a countenance greeted me, that I  
Became straight hoarse, and was a long time mute;  
When all the Shepherds said, sure I had been  
Scared with the Wolf; but Mopso was the Wolf.  
This I have told thee, that thou mayst believe  
How little this man's words deserve belief;  
And out of doubt, thoust the more cause to hope,  
For that this fellow bids thee not to hope.  Am: 
I'm glad to hear this troth of him; but now  
I leave my life, and my life's care to you.  Thy: 
Fear not 'tis all my care to cure thy pain:  
Within this bower see thou be here again.  Chorus. 
O Happy Age of Gould; happy ' hours';  
Not for with milk the rivers ran,  
And honey dropped from every tree;  
Nor that the Earth bore fruits, and flowers,  
Without the toil or care of Man,  
And Serpents were from poison free;  
Nor for th' Air (ever calm to see)  
Had quite exiled the lowering Night;  
Whilst clad in an eternal Spring  
(Now fiery hit, or else freezing)  
The cheeks of heaven smil'de with clear light;  
Nor that the wand'ring Pine of yore  
Brought neither wars, nor wares from foreign shore;  
But therefore only happy Days,  
Because that vain and idle name,  
That cozening I doll of unrest,  
(Whom the mad vulgar first did raze,  
And called it Honour, whence it came  
To tyrannize o'er every breast,)  
Was then suffered to molest  
Poor lover's hearts with new debate;  
More happy they, by these his hard  
And cruel laws, were not debarred  
Their innate freedom; happy state;  
The golden laws of Nature, they  
Found in their breasts; and then they did obey.  
Amidd the silver streams and flowers,  
The winged Genii then would dance,  
Without their bow, without their brand;  
The Nymphs sat by their Paramours,  
Whispering love-sports, and dalliance,  
And joining lips, and hand to hand;  
The fairest Virgin in the land.  
Nor scorn'de, nor glor'yed to display  
Her cheeks fresh roses to the eye,  
Or open her fair breasts to the day,  
(Which now adays so vailed lie,)  
But men and maidens spent free hours  
In running Rivers, Lakes, or shady Bowers.  
Thou Honour, thou didst first devise  
To mask the face of Pleasure thus;  
Bar water to the thirst of Love,  
And lewdly didst instruct fair eyes  
They should be nice, and scrupulous,  
And from the gazing world remove  
Their beauties; thy hands new nets wove  
T'entrap the wild curls, fair dispred  
To th'open air; thou mad'st the sweet  
Delights of Love seem thus unmeet;  
And (teaching how to look, speak, tread,)  
By thy ill laws this ill haste left,  
That what was first Loves gift, is now our theft.  
Nor ought thy mighty working brings,  
But more annoys, and woe to us;  
But thou (of Nature and of Love  
The Lord, and scourge of mighty Kings,)  
Why dost thou shroud thy greatness thus  
In our poor cells? hence, and remove  
Thy power; and it display above.  
Disturbing great ones in their sleep;  
And let us meaner men alone  
T'inioye again, (when thou art gone)  
And laws of our Forefathers keep.  
Live we in love, for our life's hours  
Hast on to death, that all at length devours.  
Live we while we may; the wain  
Of Heaven can set, and rise again;  
But we (when once we looze this light)  
Must yield us to a never ending Night.    

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  satire solus. 
SMall is the Bee; but yet with his small sting  
Does greater mischief, than a greater thing.  
But what of all things can be less than Love,  
That through so narrow passages can pierce,  
And in so narrow room lie hid? sometime  
Under the shadow of an eyelids fault,  
Now in the small curl of a shining tress,  
Now in the little pits which form sweet smiles  
In an inamo'ring check; yet makes so deep,  
So deadly and immedicable wounds.  
Ay me my breast is all one bleeding wound;  
A thousand armed darts alas are lodged  
By that fell tyrant Love in Siluia's eyes;  
Cruel Love, cruel Silvia, savadger  
Then the wild deserts; O how well thy name  
Suits with thy nature (Sylvan as thou art)  
The woods under their green roofs hide the Snake,  
The Bear, the Lion; and thou in thy breast  
hidest disdain, hate, and impiety,  
More baleful than the Lion, Bear, or Snake;  
For they will someway be reclaim'de; thou neither  
With prayers or gifts; Alas when I present thee  
Fresh flowers, thou frowardly refusest them;  
Perhaps because thoust in thy lovely face,  
Fairer than those; Alas when I present thee  
Fair Apples, thou dost scornfully reject them;  
Perhaps because thy bosom bears a pair  
Fairer than those; Ay me when I present thee  
Sweet honey, thou disdainfully deniest it,  
Perhaps because thy lips breathe sweeter honey  
Than the Bee makes; but if my poverty  
Can give thee nought that thou hast not more fair,  
And lovely in thyself, myself I give thee;  
But thou unjust scornest, and abhorr'st the gift.  
Yet I'm not so fowl, to be so dispiz'de,  
If well I marked myself, when th'other day  
I viewed my shadow in the watery main,  
When the wind blew not, and the sea lay still.  
The manly tincture of my sanguine brow,  
These muscled arms, and shoulders large enough;  
This hairy breast of mine, and hoary thighs  
Proclaim my able force, and manly hood;  
Make trial of me if thou doubtest of it.  
What wilt thou do with these same tenderlings,  
On whose bare cheek the young down scarcely springs?  
With what an art they place their hair in order?  
Women in show, and women in their strength.  
Tell me, who wilt thou have to follow thee  
O'er the bald hills, and through the levy woods,  
And fight for thee with Bear, and armed Boar?  
No no, my shape's not it thou hat'st me for,  
But 'tis my poverty thou dost abhor.  
Ah that poor Cottages will follow still  
Great Towns example in what ere is ill;  
This may be truly called the Golden age,  
For gold alone prevails, gold only rain.  
O thou (who ere thou wert) that first didst teach  
To sell love thus, accursed be thy dust.  
And thy cold buried bones; nor ever may  
Shepherd or Nymph say to them, rest in peace;  
But be they washed with raines, and tossed with winds,  
And may the passers by, and all the rout  
Of beasts with fowl feet spurn them all about.  
Base mercenary love, thou hast deflowered  
Love's nobleness; and turned his happy joys  
Into such bitterness, and sharp annoys.  
Love to be slave to gold? O miracle  
More odious, and abominable fare  
Then the large earth produces, or the Main.  
But why alas, why do I vex myself  
Thus all in vain? no, let each creature use  
Those arms that Nature for his aid hath given him,  
The Hart his speed, the Lion his strong paw,  
The foaming Boar his tusk; the woman's arms  
And power lie in her beauty ', and graceful shape;  
I, since my strength is the best help I have,  
And am by nature fit for deeds of force,  
Will for reward of all my love misspent,  
Force this proud cruel to my own content.  
And by so much as I can understand,  
(As yond Goteherd that hath observed her ways  
Hath lately told me) she doth oft repair  
To'a water-fount to wash herself; the place  
He made me know, and there I mean to lie  
Close in a thickett near, t'attend her coming,  
And as occasion fits, I'll make her mine,  
What can she do then, what avail alas  
Can her hands give her, or her legs to fly  
(Poor wretch) from me so forcible, and swift?  
Let her a good year weep, and sigh, and rail,  
And put on all the power her beauty hath;  
If once I catch her by the snary curls,  
We will not part in haste, till I have bathed  
(For my revenge) my arms in her warm blood.   

Actus Secundus. Scene: Secunda.  Daphne. Thirsis. 
THirsis (as I have told thee) well I know  
How well, Aminta Silvia love's; heaven knows  
How many friendly offices I have,  
And will do for him; and so much the rather  
For that thou dost entreat in his behalf;  
But I would sooner take in hand to tame  
A Bear, or Tiger then a fond young wench;  
The silly thing (simple as fair) sees not  
How sharp and burning be her beauty's rays,  
But smiles or cries; yet wounds where ere she go,  
And fond knows not if she hurt or no.  Thy: 
Tush there's no wench so simple but she knows  
Soon as she leaves the cradle, how to seem  
Spruce, and delightful; and what arms to use  
To hurt, or kill outright, and what to heal  
A wounded heart, and give it life withal.  Da: 
What Master is't that shows 'em all these arts?  Thy: 
He that instructs the birds to sing and fly;  
The Fish to swim, the Ram to butt, the Bull  
To use his horn, the Peacock to display  
His many-ey'ed-plumes beauty to the day.  Da: 
How name you this same teacher?  Thy: 
H'has a name.  Da: 
Go trifler.  Thy: 
Why I prithee art not thou  
Fit enough to teach twenty girls their lessons?  
I'll warrant thee, I; and yet to speak the troth  
They need no teacher; Nature teacheth them  
Although the nurse and mother have a part.  Da: 
Come y''re unhappy; but in earnest now  
I'm not resolved Silvia so simple is  
As by her words she seems; for th'other day  
One deed of hers put me in doubt of her:  
I found her in those broad fields near the town,  
Where amongst drowned grounds, lies a little Isle,  
And round about, a water clear, and calm;  
There o'er she hung her head; and seemed (me thought)  
Full proud to see herself, and took advice  
O'th'water, in what order best to lay  
Her locks, and them about her brow display,  
And over them her veil, and over that  
The flowers she carried in her lap; now here  
She hung a Lily, there she stuck a Rose;  
Then laid them to her neck, and to her cheek,  
As to try whethers hue the other past;  
At last, (as joyful of the victory)  
She smiling seemed to say, the day is mine;  
Nor do I wear you for my ornament,  
But for your own disgrace (counterfeit flowers)  
To show how much my beauty passeth yours.  
But while she thus stood decking of herself,  
She turned her eye by chance, and soon had found  
That I had noted her, and blushed a main,  
Down fell her flowers; I laughed to see her blush;  
And she blushed more, perceiving that I laughed;  
But, (for of one side of her face, the hair  
Was hung abroad, and th'other not,) she turns  
To th'water once on twice, to mend the fault,  
And gazed as 'twere by stealth, (fearful belike  
That I too nearly eyed her,) where she saw  
Her hair (though orderless, yet) hanging so,  
As graced her well; I saw, and saw her not.  Thy: 
All this I will believe: guest I not well?  Da: 
Thou didst: but yet I will be bold to say  
That I have seldom seen a Shepherdess  
Or Nymph what ever of her years discreeter;  
Nor was I such when I was of her years:  
The world grows old, and of a troth I think  
It grows as ill as old.  Thy: 
True; heretofore  
Those of the City were not wont so much  
To haunt these woods as now adays they do,  
Nor meaner people in the village bred,  
To come so much among the citizens;  
Their bloods are now more mingled, and their customs.  
But leave we this discourse; and tell me now  
Couldst thou not find a time Aminta might  
Either alone, or in thy presence come  
To speak to Silvia?  Da: 
I cannot tell;  
Silvia is nice and strange beyond all measure.  Thy: 
And he nicely respect full beyond measure.  Da: 
He's i'the wrong then, fie on such a lover;  
Nice (quoth you?) counsel him to leave that vice,  
If he will learn to love; he must be bold,  
And urge with speeding importunity;  
Let him a little filch; if that be vain,  
Then ravish: tush knowst thou what women are?  
They fly; but every step wish to be ta'en;  
What they deny, they wish were snatched from them;  
They fight, but still wish to be overcome.  
I tell thee this Thirsis, but in thine ear:  
Blab not what I say to thee ', I cannot speak  
Inrime (thou knowst) but if I could, I'd say  
Somewhat more worth than rhyme to bear away.  Thy: 
Fear not, I will not speak  
Ought from thy lips what ere they open to me.  
But gentle Daphne, for the dear day's sake  
Of thy past youth, help me to help Aminte  
Poor wretch that dies.  Dap: 
Ah what a  style  
Of conjuration (fool) hast thou devised  
To move me with; bringing my youth to mind,  
The pleasure I have lost, and pain I find.  
But what wouldst have me do?  Thy: 
thou'rt not to seek of wit, nor yet of power,  
Do but dispose thy will, I'll ask no more.  Da: 
Well then, I'll tell thee: we are going now  
Silvia and I together all alone  
Unto Diana's fount, to wash ourselves;  
There where the planetree with his safer shade  
Ore-spreds the cool stream, and is wont t'invite  
The weary huntresses to rest, and cool them:  
There she'll uncase her so-beloved limbs.  Thy: 
And what of that?  Da: 
What of that? silly thou'rt  
Or else thou wouldst not ask me what of that.  Thy: 
Suppose I hit thy meaning, who knows yet  
If he will dare to meet her there or no?  Da: 
No? Why then truly let him stay till she  
Come to woee him; and when will that be trow ye?  Thy: 
Do she or not, he does deserve she did.  Da: 
But now let's leave this theme; and talk a word  
Or two of thee; say Thirsis, wilt not thou  
Resolve at last to be a lover too?  
thou'rt not yet old; few more than thirty years  
Have ouer-slipt thee, and I well remember  
Thy infancy; wilt thou live joyless still?  
For only he lovers is the happy life.  Thy: 
The joys of Venus he enjoys as well,  
That shunning lovers painful miseries,  
Tastes of the sweet, and lets the sour alone.  Da: 
O but that sweet grows dull, and gluts betime,  
That is not seas'ned with a little sour.  Thy: 
Better 'tis to be glutted (of the two)  
Then pine before one feeds, and after two.  Da: 
But if the food be pleasing, and possessed,  
'Tis good before; and in the tasting best.  Thy: 
No man can so possess what he desires,  
As just t'enjoy it then when's hunger craves it.  Da: 
Who hopes to find, that never means to seek?  Thy: 
'Tis dangerous to seek that which once found,  
Pleases a little, but not found, torments  
Much more; no, no, I'll go no more a wooing;  
Cupid shall triumph over me no more;  
I know a little what those sufferings be,  
Let others prove them if they list for me.  Da: 
Belike thoust not enjoyed love's pleasure yet:  Thy: 
Nor do I wish to buy the plague so dear.  Da: 
You may perhaps be forced against your will;  Thy: 
Who keeps himself far off, cannot be forced.  Da: 
Who can be far from love?  Thy: 
Who fears & flies.  Da: 
But what avails to fly from him hath wings?  Thy: 
Love but new borne, hath wings but short & small,  
And hardly strong enough to fly with all.  Da: 
Being young, we know him not; but after, long;  
And when we feel him once, he's grown too strong.  Thy: 
Not if we never felt him grow before.  Da: 
Well; ye shall have't; we'll see how well you will  
Bridle your eye and heart; but I protest  
Since thou canst play both Hound and Hare so well,  
If ere I hear thee call and cry for help,  
I will not move a foot, nor yet a finger,  
Nor stir an eye, nor speak a word for thee.  Thy: 
Wouldst have the heart (cruel) to see me dye?  
If thou wouldst have me love, why love thou me,  
And let's now make a loving bargain on't.  Da: 
Away you mock me now; well well, perhaps  
You do not merit such a love as mine.  
I seen many a lad as fine as you  
Deceived with a fair seeming painted face.  Thy: 
I do not jest nor mock thee; this is but  
A colour now to bar me loving thee,  
As 'tis the custom of you all to do:  
But if you will not love me, I'm content,  
To live still as I do.  Da: 
I, live so still,  
Happier than twenty others; live in ease;  
Perhaps unwares ease may engender love.  Thy: 
O Daphne, a God this ease hath bred me; he  
That hath appeared a second god to me  
By whom so many herds and flocks are fed  
From th'one to th'other Sea, upon the fair  
And fruitful Plains, and on the craggy backs  
Of the steep Apenines: he said to me,  
When as he made me his; Thirsis (quoth he)  
Let others chase the Wolf, and Thief, and keep  
A watchful eye over my walled sheep;  
Let others care be to reward, or punish  
My Ministers; let others feed and tend  
My flocks, and keep the account of milk & wool;  
And take, and pay: take thou thine ease, and sing,  
Wherefore 'tis reason good, I let go by  
All loser strains, and vainer carrolings;  
And sing his Ancestors, and their high praise,  
Who is to me jove, and Apollo both;  
Since in his looks and deeds he both resembles  
Issue of Saturn and of heaven. Poor Muse  
To mean for such a task; and yet how e'er  
Horse voiced, or clear she sings, he not contemns her.  
I sing not him, too high for my low rhymes,  
Whom silent adoration only can  
Worthily honour; but still shall his altars  
Be sprinkled with my flowers, and ne'er without  
My humble Incense fuming all about.  
Which simple (yet devout) religion in me  
When it shall leave my heart, the Hearts shall feed  
●n th'air on air; and so the floods shall change  
●heir bed, and course; that Sun shall Persia greet,  
●nd the large Tigris beat the French- Alps feet.  Da: 
O thou fliest high; prithee descend a little,  
And to our purpose.  Thy: 
Then here lies the point;  
That as thou go'st with her unto the fount,  
Thou use thy best cunning to make her coming,  
And hear Aminta speak; mean time my care  
Shall be to make Aminta meet you there.  
I fear my task will be the hardest of both.  
Onn then o' God's name.  Da: 
Yes, I go; but Thirsis,  
We were discoursing of an other matter.  Thy: 
If mine eye fail me not, yond same should be  
Aminta, that comes hitherward; 'tis he.   

Actus Secundus. Scena Tertia.  Aminta. Thirsis. 
NOw shall I see what Thirsi' has done for me;  
And if he have done nothing, ere my woes  
Melt me'into nothing, I'll go kill myself  
Before the proud face of that cruel maid,  
That so delights to see my hearts deep wound  
Made by her murdering eyes, as sure it can  
Please her no less, to see her sad command  
Fulfilled on my own breast with my own hand.  Thy: 
News, news Aminta, happy news I bring thee;  
Clear then thy brow, and cast thy griefs away.  Am: 
What is't thou sayest Thirsis, what bringst thou me,  
Life, or death? new joy, or new misery?  Thy: 
I bring thee life and joy, if thou but dare  
To go and meet them; but I tell thee true  
Thou must not faint but play the man Aminta.  Am: 
Why against whom should I advance my force?  Thy: 
Suppose the Nymph thou lov'st were in a wood  
That (wal'de about with mountains of sharp briers)  
Were full of Tigers, and of greedy Lions,  
Wouldst thou go thither?  Am: 
Yes, more cheerfully,  
Then village-lasse to the dance o'holly days.  Thy: 
Were she engaged 'mongst troops of armed thiefs,  
Wouldst thou go thither?  Am: 
Yes more greedily,  
Then runs the thirsty Hart to the cool streeme.  Thy: 
O but a harder task asks greater labour.  Am: 
Why I would pass through the devouring torrents,  
When the dissolu'de snows down the mountain's rain:  
And headlong run t'ingulph them in the main:  
Or through the fire; or indeed down to hell;  
If any place a hell may termed be,  
That shall contain so heavenly a thing as she.  
But prithee tell me all.  Thy: 
Here then.  Am: 
Say on.  Thy: 
Silvia ' at a Fount, starnaked, and all alone  
Attends thy coming; darest thou now go thither?  Am: 
Silvia? and all alone? and stays for me?  Thy: 
Yes all alone, unless haply there be  
Daphne ', who thou knowst is all in all for thee. (ah do not  Am: 
Naked?  Their: 
I, naked, but.  Am: 
But what?  
Mangle me thus.  Their: 
Why but she does not know  
That you should meet her there; though (as I say)  
she'll there attend you, do but haste away.  Am: 
Bitter conclusion; that infects, and poisons  
What ever sweet thy former speeches promised,  
Why with such art  
Dost thou delude me, cruel as thou art?  
Is't not enough  
Thinkest thou for me thus full of grief to be,  
But thou must come to mock my misery?  Thy: 
Be ruled by me Aminta, and be happy;  Am: 
What should I do?  Thy: 
Why not let slip that good  
That fortune (much thy friend) presents thee with.  Am: 
The beau'ns forbidden that ever I should do  
Aught to displease her; nor yet ever did I  
The thing that justly merited her frown;  
Vulesse it were my loving her so much;  
Which yet if'twere a fault, was none of mine;  
It was her beauties; and by beau'n I vow  
I mean not to begin to'offend her now.  Thy: 
Why but yet tell me, if'twere in thy power  
To leave to love her, wouldst thou do't to please her?  Am: 
No sure; love will not let me say, or think  
That ere I should desist from loving her,  
Though'twere in my own power.  Thy: 
Why an't be so,  
In her despite whether she will or no,  
you'd love her,  Am: 
No, no, not in spite of her,  
But I would love her.  Thy: 
Yet against her will?  Am: 
Why yes, against her will.  Thy: 
And wherefore then  
Dare you not take of her against her will,  
That which (althoughed irks thee at first to do)  
In th'end will quite thy pains and please her too.  Am: 
Thirsis, let love that speaks within my breast  
Make answer for me; thou, (through thy long use  
Of reas'ning much of love) too subtle art  
For me; love ties my tongue, who tied my heart.  Thy: 
Why then thou wilt not go?  Am: 
Yes, yes, I'll go;  
But not where you would have me:  Thy: 
Whether then?  Am? 
To death; if this be all  done for me.  Thy: 
Is this that I have done then nothing worth?  
And dost thou think Daphne would counsel thee  
To go, unless she saw a little more  
Into thy Sylvia's heart, than thou and I?  
Suppose she has revealed her mind to her;  
Think you she would abide that any else  
Should know't? or know she knew it ere the more?  
So that to covet an express consent  
On her part, think you not it were to seek  
What in all reason must offend her most?  
where's this your care then, and desire to please her?  
Perhaps she would that your delight should be  
Your own theft, not her gift; what skilled I pray.  
Whether you have it this, or th'other way?  Am: 
What certainty ' have I that her mind is such?  Thy: 
See still how sillily you seek to have  
That certainty which must of force displease her;  
And which 'boue all things else you should not crave:  
But who assures you to the contrary  
But that she may mean so as well as not?  
Now if she did, and that you would not go;  
(Since both the doubts and dangers equal be)  
Is not a valiant than a base death better?  
thou'rt mute; thou'rt overthrown;  
Confess it then;  
Nor doubt but this thy overehrow will be  
Th'occasion of a greater victory.  
Go'we.  Am: 
Stay.  Thy: 
Why stay?  
knowst not how swiftly the time runs away?  Am: 
Prithee let's think first what, and how to do.  Thy: 
we'll think of all things as we go; but he  
That thinks too much, does little, commonly.  Chorus. 
O Love, of whom, and where is taught  
This thy so doubtful Art, and long  
Of loving, that instructs the tongue  
At ease to utter every thought.  
That the wild fant' sie doth devise?  
Whilst with thy wings above the heaven it flies.  
The learned Athens taught it not;  
Nor was it to Liceus known;  
Apollo, god of Helicon  
For all his knowledge knew it not.  
Faint and cold is what he speaks,  
Nor from his voice such a fire breaks  
As doth thy greatness (Love) befitt:  
Nor can his wit,  
Or thoughts unto the height arise  
Of thy profounder mysteries:  
Thou readst thine own lesson best  
(Great Love) and onely'art by thyself expressed.  
Thou of thy grace and bounty daynest  
T'instruct th' unlearnedest, and plainest  
Men of thousands, how to see  
And read those wondrous things that be  
Writ with thine own hand in an others eyes.  
Thou teachest those thou lovest best,  
A purer language than the rest,  
And with smooth ease to breathe their fantasies.  
Nay often times, such is thy rare  
And most mysterious eloquence,  
That in a confusd'e broken sense  
And half words that imperfect are,  
The heart is best revealed and seen;  
And such perhaps move more by far  
Then many words that better polished been.  
Yea even Love's silence oft doth more express  
Than words could do, the mind's unhappiness.  
(Love) let others if they please  
Turn over the works of Socrates,  
And those great volumes of the wise;  
While I but read what's writ in two fair eyes.  
Perhaps the pen that higher climes,  
Will but halt after the rhymes,  
That in the rough and uncooth tree  
With my rude artless hand engraven be.    

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Thirsis. Chorus. 
O Savage cruelty '; O th'ungrateful mind  
Of a most most ungrateful Maid; O Sex  
Full of ingratitude: and thou lewd Nature,  
Nigligent mistress, and maker of things,  
Wherefore, ah wherefore mad'st thou womankind  
So fair, and sweet, and mild only without;  
And didst forget to make their insides good?  
Poor youth, I fear ' has made away himself  
E'er this; alas I cannot find him out:  
Three hours from place to place, & where I left him  
Have I been seeking him; but cannot find  
Or him, or any print of his strayed foot:  
Sure sure he's dead.  
I will go ask yond Swains I see, if they  
Can tell me any tidings of him. Friends  
Did you not see Aminta, or haply hear  
News of him lately?  Cho: 
Thou dost seem to me  
Full of distraction, what is't troubles thee?  
How cam'st thou so'out of breath, and to sweat so?  
What ail'st thou? say what is't thou fearest or wantest;  Thy: 
I fear Amintas harms; tell me I pray  
Saw ye him not?  Cho: 
Not since he went with you  
A while agone, but what d'ye fear in him.  Thy: 
Alas I fear  
Lest he have slain himself with his own hand.  Cho: 
Slain with his own hand? how so? what might cause  
Such vengeance on himself?  Thy: 
Why love, and hate.  Chor: 
Two powerful enemies:  
What cannot they do, when they meet together?  
But speak yet clearer.  Their: 
His too much love, and her too much disdain  
Whom he loved so.  Cho: 
Ah tell thy story out;  
This is a way of passage, and ere long  
Perhaps some one will bring us news of him,  
Or himself come.  Thy: 
I'll tell it willingly;  
For 'tis not just that such ingratitude  
Should rest without the due deserved blame.  
Aminta heard (and I had told it him,  
And was his conduct too, the gods forgive me)  
That Silvia was with Daphne gone to'a Fount  
To wash themselves; thither then (not without  
A thousand doubts and fears in him) we went;  
And twenty times we turned again, (his heart  
Being all against it,) but that I was fain  
Almost against his will to force him onn;  
But drawing near unto the Fount, we heard  
A sad lamenting voice; and all at once  
Daphne we spied wring her hands, and straight  
Seeing us coming, ah run, run (she cries)  
Siluia's deflowered. Th'enamoured Aminta  
No sooner heard it, but swift as a Pard  
He fling away; and I made after him:  
Nor fare we went, when lo before our eyes  
We saw the young maid naked as at her birth,  
Fast fettered by the fair hair to a tree;  
About whose branches in a thousand knots  
The curls were linked, and entertwin'de, the girdle  
That wont to deck, and guard her maiden loins,  
Served as an actor in her ravishment;  
Binding her arms about the trees hard trunk,  
The tree itself became a helper too,  
For by her feet a branch or two grew out,  
Which (easy bending) both her tender legs  
Had fastened to the tree; and face to face  
A beastly satire stood; who but even then  
Had newly made an end of binding her,  
All the defence she could (poor soul) she made;  
But sure'twould have but little steeded her,  
Had not we come. Aminta with his dart  
Slew like a Lion  
Upon the satire; and I gathered stones;  
Whereat he fled; and gave Aminta leisure  
To feast his greedy eyes with her fair limbs,  
Which trembling seemed as tender, white, & soft,  
As unpressed curds new from the whey divided.  
Full was her face of anger, grief, and spite;  
He gently accosting her with modest looks,  
Spoke thus; O lovely Silvia pardon me;  
Fardon my hands for daring to approach  
So near these beauteous limbs of thine; alas  
It is necessity enforceth them,  
Necessity t'unloose these bands of thine;  
And let it (I beseech thee) not displease thee,  
That Fate has raised them to this happiness.  Cho: 
Words that would mollify a heart of flint;  
But what reply made she?  Their: 
Why none at all.  
But with a look full of disdain, hung down  
The head, and hid her fair lap all she could;  
He stood unbrayding her entangled ' tresses,  
And sighing said (the while,) O how unworthy  
Is this rude trunk of so fair knots as these?  
See what advantage have Love's votaries,  
That (like this tree) have with so precious bands  
Their hearts entwined: Cruel plant, couldst thousese  
This hair thus injured, that thus honours thee?  
Then with his hands her hands he fair vnloozed,  
In such a sort, as that he seemed afraid  
To touch them, yet desired to touch them still:  
Then stooped he down t'untye her feet; when she  
Finding her late bound hands at liberty,  
Said with a scornful, and disdaining look;  
Shepherd, I am Diana's; touch me not;  
Leave me, I shall unbind my feet myself.  Cho: 
Ah that the soft best of a maid should harbour  
Such pride; O Courtesy full ill repaid.  Their: 
Straight he with reverence withdrew himself,  
Not lifting once his eyes to look on her;  
Barring himself of his delight; that she  
Might lay no blame on his immodesty.  
I that was hid near hand, and saw all this,  
And heard it all, was even exclaiming on her,  
But that I curbed myself; see the strange creature;  
After she was with much ado got lose,  
Away she hurried straight, swift as a Do,  
Without so much as ' Thank ye, or farewell;  
And yet knew well, she had no cause to fear;  
So modest and respectful was Aminta.  Cho: 
Why fled she then?  Th: 
Perhaps she thought it showed  
Better; and argued more her modesty.  Cho: 
Her foul ingratitude: but what did then,  
What said the poor Aminta?  Their: 
I cannot tell.  
For (angry) after her I ran amain  
To have o'erta'en, and stayed her; but in vain;  
For soon I lost her; and again returning  
Unto the Fountain where I left Aminta,  
I found him not; and my heart much misgives me  
Of some self ill befallen him; for I know  
He was resolved (before this happened him)  
To end his life and miseries together.  Cho: 
It is the common use and art of Lovers  
To threaten their own deaths; but rarely shall  
We see th'effect in any of them all.  Thy: 
Pray heaven he be not of those rare ones then.  Cho: 
Tush fear him not.  Thy: 
Well I'll down to the Cave  
Of the sage Elpine; thither he perhaps  
Will be retyr'de, if he be yet alive;  
For there he went full oft to'allay and ease  
The rage of his bitter calamities,  
With the sweet sound of Elpines' Reeds; that win  
And draw with their alluring voice, to hear them,  
The hard stones from the craggy mountain tops;  
Make floods and waterfounts run with pure milk;  
And oft the rough barked trees against their kinds  
Distil sweet honey from their bitter rinds.   

Actus Tertius. Scene: Secunda.  Aminta, Daphne, Nerina. 
Pitiless (Daphne) was that Pity of thine,  
When thou held'st back the dart; because my death  
Will but more painful be, the more delay'de:  
And now, why dost thou stay me trifling thus,  
And hold me ' in vain with these thy long discourses?  
If thou be'st fearful of my death, thou fearest  
My happiness.  Daph. 
Leave leave Aminta  
This thy unjust despair: I know her well;  
And 'twas her bashfulness, not cruelty,  
That made her run away so fast from thee.  Am: 
Ah that my only friend must be Despair,  
Seeing that only Hope hath bred my ruin:  
And yet it would be breeding in my breast  
Again, and bid me live; when, what can be  
A greater ill to so great misery,  
Then still to live, but to be still unhappy?  Da: 
Why live yet, live with thy unhappiness;  
And bear it for thy greater happiness  
When the time comes; think what thou lately saw'st  
In the fair naked one, and let that serve thee  
For a reward sufficient for thy hope,  
And make thee in love with life.  Am: 
'Twas not enough  
For love, and fortune, that I was before,  
So wretched, as I scarcely could be more;  
But that I must be showed (t'augment my ill)  
Part of my bliss, yet go without it still.  Ne'er: 
Must I be then the Raven, and sinister  
Relater of so bitter news? O wretched,  
Wretched Montano; ah what wilt thou do,  
When thou shalt hear the sad, and kill story  
Of thy own only Silvia? poor old man,  
Most hapless father of a hapless child;  
Ah now no father.  Da: 
I do hear a sad  
Lamenting voice.  Am: 
I hear the name of Silvia,  
That strikes mine ear, and my heart through at once;  
But who is't names her?  Da: 
'Tis I think the Nymph  
Nerina, she whom Diana love's so well,  
That has so lively eyes, and lovely hands,  
And so becoming a behaviour.  Ne'er: 
Yet he shall know it; and go gather up  
Th'unhappy relics, (if yet any be;)  
Ah Silvia Silvia, O accursed fate.  Am: 
Ay me, what means this Nymph? what says she?  Ne'er: 
Daphne?  Da: 
Nerina? what's the matter that thou namest  
Silvia so oft, and sighest at every word?  Ne'er: 
There's cause enough Daphne; ah too too much.  Am: 
Ay me I feel, I feel my breast so full  
Of ice, my breath half stopped; life's she, or no?  Da: 
Tell us all, tell the worst Nerina.  Ne'er: 
O heaven,  
Must I be then th'unhappy ' historian?  
And yet it's fit I tell my sad tale out.  
Silu'ia starnaked (whereof ye know perhaps  
The cause) came to our house, where being clad,  
She afterward desired me I would go  
A hunting with her, as it was before  
Appointed, to the Grove of Okes, (for so  
The place ye know is called;) I did agree;  
And onn we went, and found there many Nymphs  
Gathered together; not far off, behold  
Rushes a huge Wolf forth, whose yawning jaws  
Foamed with a bloody froth; Silvia then near him  
Let fly a shaft at him; and in his head  
The arrow light; he took the wood again,  
And she at heels pursued him with a Dart  
Into the wood.—  Am: 
Ah sorrowful beginning,  
I fear, I fear a sad conclusion.  Ne'er: 
I with an other Dart followed their footing;  
But setting out too late, was cast far off;  
And having gained the wood, I lost the sight  
Of them; yet kept their tract, and ran so far,  
Till I was got into the desertest  
And thickest of the wood; at length I found  
(And took up) Sylvia's Dart upon the ground;  
And not far off a white veil, which (ere while)  
I did myself bind up her hair withal;  
And whilst I looked about me ', Ispi'de seven Wolves  
Licking blood off the ground, that scattered lay  
About a few bare bones; and 'twas my hap  
To scape unseen, while they so earnestly  
Minded their prey.  
I full of fear turned back, and came my way.  
And this is all that I can say of Silvia;  
And here's the veil.  Am: 
thoust said, thoust said enough;  
O blood, O veil, O Silvia, ' dead dead—  Dap: 
Poor youth he dies; he's dead; ay me he's dead  
With grief.  Ne'er: 
He breath's yet, he's but in a trance;  
Tarry he comes again t'himselfe.  Am: 
O grief,  
Why dost, why dost thou thus torment me?  
And wilt not end me? thou'rt unjust. Perhaps  
Thou leav'st the work to my own hand: I am,  
I am content it shall be my own care;  
Since thou wilt not, or canst not do't; Ay me,  
Ay me if nothing want to make this clear,  
And nothing want to make my miseries  
Now brimful; why do ' I linger? why do I stay?  
O Daphne Daphne, was it to this end,  
This bitter, bitter end thou didst reserve me?  
My death had then been sweet, and pleasing to me,  
When thou and heaven held back my Dart, and saved me;  
Heaven that was loath (belike) I should prevent  
With death, the woes it has prepared for me;  
But nowed has done the very worst it can,  
I hope both heaven, and you may suffer me  
To dye in peace.  Da: 
Stay yet, stay wretch, and learn  
The truth yet better.  Am: 
Ah the truth is such,  
‛ Iue stayed too long, alas I heard too much.  Ne'er: 
Ay me, wretch that I am, why did I speak?  Am: 
Gentle Nymph, let me crave that veil of thee,  
The poor remainder of her; they it may  
Accompany me for these few sad hours  
Of way, and life yet left me; and increase  
That martyrdom, that were no martyrdom  
Were it not much more then enough to kill me.  Ne'er: 
Shall I denieed, or shall I give it him?  
The cause he asks it for, bids me retain it.  Am: 
Cruel Nymph, to deny me ' a grace so small  
In my extremity; and even I see  
How in each trifle fortune crosseth me.  
I yield, I yield; long may it bide with thee:  
Long live ye; my way to my death must be.  Da: 
Aminta stay, Aminta ', a word Aminta,  
Hark, stay; alas how swift he flies away.  Ne'er: 
He runs so fast, 'twill be in vain for us  
To follow him; 'twere best I onward went  
Upon my way; and yet perhaps 'twere better  
I stayed, and held my peace, than myself be  
Author of poor Montano's misery.  Chorus. 
DEath, there is no need of thee:  
Love alone, and Constancy  
Are enough (without thy Dart)  
To tire upon an honest heart.  
Yet so hard is not the way  
To Love's fame, as many say;  
For Loan no price but love regards;  
And with itself, itself rewards.  
And oft in seeking it, is found  
Glory that life's, when we are under ground.    

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  Daphne. Silvia. Chorus. 
NOw may the wind upon his wings bear hence  
All ill may happen thee; together with  
Th'accursed news so lately spread of thee.  
Thou art alive (the gods be thanked forted)  
And even but now I did believe thee dead;  
So had Nerina painted to the life  
Thy late hap; but I would she had been dumb,  
Or some that heard her deaf.  Silius: 
Indeed I scaped  
So narrowly, as I believe she might  
Full well suppose me dead.  Da: 
Suppose she might  
Yet not have told it with such certainty.  
But tell me prithee how thou didst escape  
The danger so.  Silius: 
Why I in following  
A Wolf into the wood, had thickt with him  
So far, till I at length had lost his tract;  
And as I stood thinking to turn again  
Back as I went, I spied him, and I knew him  
By ' a shaft that stuck in's head near to his ear,  
Which I not long before had shot at him:  
He was accompanied with many more,  
About the body of some beast new slain;  
But what beast 'twas I knew not; the same Wolf  
I think knew me so well, that on he made  
Towards me with his head besmeared with blood.  
I boldly stood, and bend a Dart at him,  
And when I thought his distance fit for me,  
I threw, but (whether it was fortunes fault  
Or mine) I missed him, as thou knowst I use  
Not oft to do; he fiercer than before  
Rushes upon me; and was come so near,  
That I, (my shafts now spent) found it too late  
To trust my bow, and took me to my heels:  
Away Tranne; he followed me as fast.  
See now my hap; a veil that I had tied  
My hair withal, was half undone, and flew  
At the wind's pleasure loosely, that at length  
'Thad wound itself about a bough; I felt  
That somewhat stayed me; but the fear I had,  
Redoubled so my strength, that though the bough  
Did all it could to hold me, I broke lose;  
And as I left my veil behind, I left  
Part of my hair withal; and so had fear  
Lent my feet wings, that I outwent the Wolf,  
And came safe from the wood; when turning home  
I met thee thus amazed, and am no less  
Amazed myself to see thee so.  Da: 
Ay me  
Thou livest, 'tis well, would all were well beside.  Silius: 
What ail'st thou? prithee art thou sorry then  
That I'm alive?  Da: 
No; that thou livest I'm glad;  
But for an others death I must be sad.  Silius: 
How's this? for whose death?  Da: 
Why Aminta's death.  Silius: 
Aminta dead? alas how may that be?  Da: 
Nay how I cannot tell; nor yet am sure  
Of the deed done; but I believe it firmly.  Silius: 
What's this thou tell'st me? alas what might be  
Th'occasion of Aminta's death?  Da: 
Thy death.  Silius: 
Make me conceive thee.  Da: 
Even the heavy news  
Of thy death, which he heard, and credited,  
Hath brought him to his end, someway or other.  Silius: 
Fie, thou'rt deceived; and this thy thought will be  
As vain as was the news thou heardst of me;  
For surely no man will dye willingly.  Da: 
O Silu'ia Silvia, thou dost not feel  
Nor know what ' love's flame can do, in a breast  
That is a breast of flesh, and not of flint  
As thine is; for didst thou but know't, I know  
Thou wouldst have loved him that loved thee more  
Than both his eyes; more than his breath and life;  
I do believe it, nay I seen, and know it.  
I saw, I saw him when thou fledst from him  
(Unkind and cruel as thou wert) when he,  
Even then when thou shouldst rather have embraced  
Then scorned him so, against his breast had bend  
His Dart, with full intent to kill himself:  
Nor any whit repent of the deed,  
When (stayed by me from farther wounding him)  
The sharp steel had his garment and his skin  
Died in his blood, and had pierced through that heart  
That loyal heart of his, that thou before  
Hadst wounded worse, had not I held his hand,  
And saved him all I could: but O alas  
That slight wound served but as a trial only  
And small proof of his  constancy;  
And but to teach the fatal steel, to do  
The black deed it was preappointed to.  Silius: 
Ay me what's this thou tell'st me?  Da: 
But at last  
When the news came that thou wert dead, I saw him  
Sound at the hearing on't, and dye away;  
And came no sooner to himself again,  
But furiously he flings away amain;  
And sure I fear, alas, too sure 'twill prove  
Has killed himself;  
Such was his too much grief, and too much love.  Silius: 
But hold'st thou this for certain?  Da: 
'tis too true.  Silius: 
Ay me why didst thou not straight follow him?  
And stay him? ah let's seek, let's find him out;  
Since from my death, his death's desire is bred,  
He must live still because I am not dead.  Da: 
Alas I followed him, but he had soon  
So fare outrun me, as I now despair  
That we shall find him having lost his footing.  Silius: 
We must alas we must inquire him out  
Some way or other speedily, lest he  
Through our slowness his own murderer be.  Da: 
Belike then (Cruel) th'u'rt but grieved he should  
Take from thee th'honour of this goodly deed?  
And wouldst thyself be the brave murderess?  
Must no hand else but thine, an Actor be  
In th' execution of this Tragedy?  
Well, set thy heart at rest; for howso're  
He dies, thou art his only murderer.  Silius: 
Ah thou dost wound me; and thy every word  
Adds to the agony'e of my bleeding breast,  
Struck through with fear of him; and with the bitter  
Remembrance of the savage cruelty  
In me, which I called honesty ', and so 'twas,  
But too severeit was, and rigorous;  
I find it now, alas I now repent it.  Da: 
what's this? what do I hear?  
Why thou art pitiful then, and thy heart  
Seems to have feeling of another's harms;  
What do I see?  
Why thou dost weep too; I'm amazed at this?  
Whence are these tears? Is't love that causes them?  Silius: 
'Tis pity, 'tis compassion causes them.  Da: 
Compassion is the messenger of love,  
As is the lightning of the thunder clap.  Cho: 
'Tis often times the property of love  
When he would creep unseen into young hearts  
Which austere Chastity hath long time shut  
And barred against him, to assume the habit  
And semblance of his handmaid Pity ', and so  
Deceives them ere they be ware, and gets  
Into their breasts unknown and vndiscry'de.  Da: 
These are love-teares (Silvia) they flow so fast;  
Dost thou not love indeed? ha'? not a word?  
Yes, 'tis too true, but alas 'tis too late.  
Behold the strange ways of Love's chastisement;  
Wretched Aminta, thou that (like the Bee,  
Which hurting dies, and in an others wound  
Leaves his own life,) hast with thy death, at last  
Pierced that hard heart, which living felt thee not.  
But if, O erring Spirit, (as I fear  
Thou art, and severed from thy empty corpse)  
Thou wanderest here about; behold her plaints;  
Living thou lov'dst her, see she love's thee dead.  
And if thy cruel fate would have it so,  
That thy love could not be repaid till now,  
And that her love was only to be purchased  
By thee at this dear price; let it suffice thee  
(Where more thou canst not have) that thou hast bought it  
As dear now, as she could rate it thee;  
Even with thy death.  Cho: 
Dear bargain for the buyer;  
And all unprofitable, and infamous  
Unto the cruel seller.  Silius: 
O that I  
Can with my love redeem his life again,  
Or with my life his life, if he live not.  Da: 
O pity, O discretion, too late bred;  
Little avail they to revive the dead.   

Actus Quartus. Scene: Secunda.  Nuntius, Chorus, Silvia. Daphne. 
I Am so full of woe, so full of borror  
As all I hear and whatsoever I look on  
Me thinks afflicts, disquiets, and affrights me.  Cho: 
What strange news brings this man, that seems to me  
So troubled in his looks, and in his speech?  Nun: 
I bring the sad news of Aminta's death.  Silius: 
Ay me what says he?  Nun: 
Aminta noblest Shepherd of these woods;  
That was so comely and so gracious;  
So dear unto the Nymphs, and to the Muses;  
And dead but even a lad.  Cho: 
Ah of what death?  
Tell us, ah tell all; that we may in one  
Lament with thee his mischief, and our own.  Silius: 
Ay me my heart fails me '; I dare not approach  
Th'unwelcome news which I of force must hear.  
Vild breast of mine, ohdurate heart of mine,  
What fear'fl thou now? go hard'ly, press upon  
The murdering knives that are in yond man's tongue;  
And there display thy fierceness? friend, I come  
To bear my part of all the woe thou bringest;  
Perhaps it does concern me more by much  
Than thou'rt ware of; It belongs to me;  
grudge me not on't then.  Nun: 
Nymph I do believe thee;  
For even upon his death, I heard the wretch  
Call still upon thy name to his last breath.  Da: 
Now, now begins, the heavy history.  Nun: 
I was upon the mids of yond high hill,  
Where I had spread abroad some nets of mine  
To dry them, when not far off from me, came  
Aminta by, with a sad cloudy look,  
And altered much from what he wont to be  
Both in his face and fashion; which I spying  
Ran after him; and staying him, quoth he  
Ergastus thou must do a courtesy  
For me of much importance and avail;  
'Tis to go with me but a little hence,  
For witness of a deed I have to do;  
But first I'll have thee bind thy faith to me  
By a strict oath to stand aloof from me  
And not approach to let or hinder that  
That I shall do: I (that could ne'er have dreamt  
Of such a furious madness in him) yielded  
To's will; and made desperate invocations  
Calling to witness Pan, and Priapus:  
Pales, Pomona ', and nightly Hecate,  
Which done, he led me higher up the hill:  
Where, clambering through wild rocky passages,  
(By ways ne'er found, and never trod before)  
We gained the top, that over-hung a valley,  
'Twixt which and us was a steep precipice,  
And there we stayed; I casting down mine eye,  
Began for fear to tremble, and shrunk back.  
After a little pause, he smil'de me thought,  
And seemed more cheerful than he was before;  
And that made me misdoubt him less than ever:  
After that; (quoth he to me) see thou tell  
The Nymphs and Shepherds what thou shalt behold;  
Then looking down, Ah that I had (said he)  
So ready at my will, the throat and teeth  
Of those same greedy Wolves, as these rocks be;  
I would not dye of other death, than she  
Who was my life; nor have my carcase torn  
But by those teeth that tore those delicate  
And beauteous limbs of hers; but since that heaven  
Denies so great a blessing to me, I  
Must be content some other way to dye;  
And though a worse way, yet a speedier.  
Silvia I follow thee, Silvia I come  
To bear thee comapny,  
If thou disdain me not; O I should dye  
Much more contentedly; were I but sure  
My following thee would not disquiet thee,  
And that thy hate had ending with thy life:  
Silvia I follow thee, I come. Which said,  
Down from the place he headlong threw himself,  
And I turned ye to see't.  Da: 
Wretched Aminta.  Silius: 
Ay me, ay me.  Cho: 
Why didst not hinder him?  
Perhaps the oath thou took'st barred thee to do't?  Nun: 
Not so; for setting all such oaths at nought,  
(Vain doubtless in such cases) when I saw  
Wither his fond and heady madness tended,  
I reached at him; and (as ill hap would have it)  
Laid hold but of this thin scarf, wherewithal  
He girt himself; which (all too weak to bear  
His body's weight, that rested all upon't)  
Remained broke in my hand.  Cho: 
And what became  
Of the unhappy carcase?  Nun: 
I know not;  
For I was so dead strucken at the sight,  
As my heart would not suffer me, to look  
And see him dashed to pieces.  Cho: 
O strange fate.  Silius: 
Ay me, were I not made of stone indeed,  
This news would kill me. Ah if the false death  
Of me that cared no more for him, was cause  
Enough to end his life;  
Much more cause is there that the certain death  
Of him that loved me so, should be enough  
To end my life; and it shall end my life;  
And if grief cannot do't, the sharp steel shall;  
Or else this girdle here, which justly stays  
As loath to follow his sweet Master's ruins,  
Till it have done on me the due revenge  
Of his sad death, and my ingratitude.  
Unhappy girdle (relic of a more  
Unhappy Master) ah do not disdain  
T'abide a while with one so odious;  
For thou shalt stay but to be th'instrument  
Of his revenge, and of my punishment.  
I might have been, alas I should have been  
Yoke-fellow with Aminta here on earth;  
But since that cannot be, by thy help now  
I'll find him out among th'infernal shades,  
And there go bear him better company.  Cho: 
Content thee (thou sad soul) 'tis Fortune's fault,  
And not by thy means, that this ill is wrought.  Silius: 
Shepherds why plain ye? if ye moan my woes,  
I do deserve no pity; that have been  
Myself so pitiless; if ye wail the death  
Of the poor Innocent, ab tis too small;  
Grief is too poor to pay his deed withal.  
And Daphne thou I prithee dry thy tears;  
If for my sake thou weep'st; for my sake cease.  
And for his sake that was a thousand times  
More worth than I; and go along and help me  
To find th'unhappy bones; and bury them;  
'Tis that alone that keeps me still alive,  
And that I do not even now kill myself.  
It is the least and last duty is left  
For me to do him, for the love he bore me;  
And though this vile hand of mine, might perhaps  
Blemish the pi'ety of so just a deed;  
Yet he I know will like the deed the better,  
For being done by it; for I am sure  
He love's me still; his death assures it me.  Da: 
I am content to'assist thee'in seeking him,  
But talk (for heaven's sake) of this death no more.  
Alas  had too much of that before.  Silius: 
Till now I lived only unto myself,  
And my own wayward humour: for the rest,  
I vow it all to'Aminta; and if to him  
I may not, I'll live yet to his cold carcase,  
Till I have done it the last obsequies:  
So long I may; longer I will not live.  
But Shepherd set me in the way (I pray)  
Unto the valley at the high hills foot.  Nun: 
There of'at hand 'tis, and not far from hence.  Da: 
I'll go along and guide thee, for I well Remembered.  Silius: 
Farewell Shepherds, Nymphs farewell;  
Farewell woods, fields, and flocks; farewell, farewell.  Nun: 
This maiden speaks me thinks in such a strain,  
As if she went ne'er to return again.  Chorus. 
Love; thou reioyn'st what Death unbinds?  
(Thou friend of Peace but she of Blood;)  
Yet thou her Triumphs over raignest;  
And in uniting gentle minds,  
Makest Earth so heavenly an abode,  
As thou to dwell among us daynest:  
Thou smoothest the rugged hearts of men;  
And inward rancours drivest away  
(Great prince of happy peace;) and when  
Mild breasts are troubled, dost allay  
Their woes; and by thy working strange,  
Framst of things mortal, an eternal change.    

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  Elpine, Chorus. 
Doubtless the laws where with Love governeth  
His Empire evermore, are neither hard  
To follow, nor unjust; and those his works  
Which many men do condemn wrongfully,  
Are full of providence, and mystery,  
Lo with what art,  
And by how many unknown ways, he leads  
His votaries unto their happiness;  
And placeth them among the highest joys  
And pleasures of his amorous Paradise,  
When oftentimes they feel themselves sunk down  
even to the very bottom of all ills.  
Behold Aminta with his headlong fall,  
Aspires unto the top of all delight;  
O happy ' Aminta; and so much the more  
Happy now, as unfortunate before.  
This thy example makes me hope no less,  
That once at last my lovelesse fair (that covers  
Under those friendly smiles, such cruelty)  
Will with true pity heal the wounds, that she  
Hath with her feigned pity made in me.  Cho: 
Yond is the reverend Elpine; and me thinks  
Speaks of Aminta ' as if he were alive,  
Calling him happy, blessed, and fortunate,  
Ah hard condition of unhappy lovers;  
He belike counts him fortunate, that dies  
For love, and is beloved (when he is dead)  
Of her he loved so well; and this he calls  
The paradise of love; O with how light  
And poor rewards the winged Love-god contents  
His servants. Art thou (Elpine) then indeed  
In such a pitiful estate, as that  
Thou canst term fortunate, the miserable  
Death of the poor Aminta? and wouldst thou  
So far thy life to love's subjection bow,  
And undergo the like fate?  Elp: 
Friends be merry  
What of his death perhaps ye have heard, is false.  Cho: 
That were a welcome news.  
Did he not throw himself down headlong then  
From yond high Mountain's top?  Elp: 
'tis true he did.  
But 'twas a fortunate and happy fall;  
That looked so like death, and is proved to him  
Not life alone, but a most joyful life;  
For now he lies lulled in the tenter lap.  
Of his beloved one that seems much more  
Fond of him now, than she was coy before;  
Drying each tear he lets fall, with a sigh,  
Or with the like, friendly requiting it.  
But I am going to find out Montane  
Her Father, and conduct him where they be;  
For there wants nothing else but his consent,  
To both their boundless joys accomplishment.  Cho: 
Their age, their blood and birth, their mutual loves,  
And all agree; and the good old Montano  
Will he glad doubtless of posterity,  
And to ' arm his grey hairs with so sweet a guard,  
So that his will no doubt shall second theirs.  
But thou (good Elpine) tell what god, what fate  
In that so dangerous, and deadly fall  
Prescrued Aminta.  Elp: 
I am well content;  
Hear then, hear that which with these eyes I saw;  
I was before my Caves' mouth, which ye know  
Lies at the hills foot, on the valleys brim;  
There Thirsi' and I were reasoning together  
Of the fair she that in the self same net  
Had first ensnared him, and me afterward;  
When I preferring my loved servitude  
Before his free state; all at once we heard  
A shriek; and saw a man fall frbm above,  
Upon a bushy knowle; for on the side  
Of the steep hill, there grows (all of a heap,  
And as 'twere wove tog there,) a round mass  
Of brambles, thorns, and certain weeds among;  
There first he light before he lower fell;  
And though he made way through them with his weight,  
And fell down to the ground before our feet;  
Yet so that stop abated the falls force,  
As 'twas not mortal; though so dangerous  
As that he lay a while devoid of sense,  
And as a dead man without show of motion.  
We with amazement, and compassion were  
Dumbe-strucken at the sudden spectacle:  
And knowing him, and knowing soon (with all)  
He was not dead, nor perhas like to die,  
Appeased his woe, and eased him all we could;  
Then Thirsis made me throughly ' acquainted with  
Th'whole passage of his loves. but while we sought  
To bring him to himself again, and sent  
To fetch Alphesibeo (t'whom Apollo  
Tanght th'u'rt of Physic, when he gave his Harp  
And Lute to me) came Daphne, and Silvia,  
Who (as I heard) had been to seek him out  
Whom they supposed dead. But when Silvia  
Had found and knew him, and beheld his cheeks  
And lips so bloodless, and discoloured,  
As the won Violet's hue their paleness past;  
And saw him languish, as if then he had  
Been drawing his last breath; she gave her sorrows  
A liberal passage through her earnest cries;  
And beating her fair breast, falls down upon him,  
Laying her face on his, and on his lips  
Her lips.  Cho: 
And did not bashful shame restrain  
Her more, who is so strict and so severe?  Elp: 
Bashfulness oft bars weak loves of their long,  
But is too weak a curb for a strong love.  
But then, as if her eyes had been two fountains,  
She drowned his cold face with her pouring tears;  
Whose water was of so great force, and virtue,  
That he revived; and opening his dim eyes,  
He sighs forth a hollow ' Ay me, from the bottom  
Of his sad breast; she caught the heavy sound  
Of that same bitter breath; and mingled it  
With her sweet breath; and so restored, and healed him.  
Then; who can say? who can imagine what  
Both of them thought, and at that instant felt?  
Each now assured of others life? and he  
Assured of her love, and to find himself  
Entangled in so loved, and loving arms?  
He that love's firmly may imagine it,  
Yet hardly too; but no tongue sure can tell it.  Cho: 
Is then Aminta safe belike, and well,  
And so clear from all danger of his death?  Elp: 
He's safe, and well; save that he has a little  
Battered his flesh, and somewhat scratched his face;  
But 'twill be nothing; and he ways it not.  
Thrice happy he, t'have given so great and high  
A sign, and earnest of his Constancy;  
And now enjoys the fruit of his firm love;  
To which his sad induring, and pains past,  
Prove pleasing and sweet sauces at the last.  
But peace be wi'yeyee '; I must go seek about  
Till I have found the good Montano out.  Chorus. 
I Know not whether the much sour  
This (now blest) Lover (serving, burning,  
Now despairing, and still mourning)  
Hath felt; may in one happy ' hour  
Be thoroughly repaid again  
With pleasure equal to his pain.  
But if the good more pleasing be,  
And come more welcome, after we  
Have felt the ill; I do not crave  
(O Love) this happiness to have.  
Let others be so blest by thee,  
And grant the Nymph I love, may be  
Won with a little less ado;  
Less prayers, less service when I woo;  
And let the sauce to our loves, be  
Not so much pain, and misery:  
But sweet disdains, repulses sweet;  
Fall off a little, and straight meet.  
That after a short frown or twain,  
New peace, or truce may knit our hearts again.  
Th'end of Tasso's Aminta.     

VENUSSES Search for CUPID.  

Down from the third heaven, I (that am  
His queen, goddess, & mother) come  
To seek my son, (the runaway  
Cupid.) I lost him yesterday.  
As he lay playing in my lap  
(Whether of purpose, or by hap  
I cannot say,) but his gold shaft  
Fell with the point on my left side,  
And pricked me '; and when my hurt he spied,  
(As erst h'has served me ') he flew away, and laughed.  
But though sometime I angry seem,  
A tender care I have of him;  
And now (my anger laid aside)  
Have been to seek him far and wide;  
As well my heavens each part about  
As Mars his orb, and throughout  
All th'other wheels that move, and stand;  
The shining heaven has not a Sphere,  
But I have been to seek him there,  
Yet cannot find this little vagabond.  
Wherefore now amongst you (meek  
Mortals) I am come to seek  
My child, who of entim s I know,  
Takes delight to live with you;  
But I more than half despair  
To find him 'mongst you (Ladies fair)  
For though oftentimes he flies  
About your face, and by your eyes,  
And would fain enter your breast,  
And in your bosoms make his nest;  
Yet they're so bard against him with disdain,  
That there I fear he does but knock in vain.  
But amongst you Men more kind  
I may hope my son to find;  
Your milder breasts will not disdain  
This fugitive to entertain;  
Therefore to you my suit must be;  
Tell me ' (I pray) then, where is he?  
He that can but give me tiding  
Where the Wag has his abiding;  
Shall for his rewarding, sipp  
A pair of kisses from my lip,  
Soon as he will wish to take them,  
Full as sweet as I can make them:  
But he that shall the kindness do me  
To bring my little wandrer to me,  
Shall expect a greater meed  
Wherewith to recompense his friendly deed;  
And such as all the wealth I have  
Cannot exceed; no though I gave  
All Love's Kingdom; and I take  
To witness the black Stygian lake,  
That I will truly pay my vow.  
Tell me therefore, tell me now  
Where's my Son? who grants my suit?  
But no man answers; all are mute.  
Perhaps ye have not seen the Elf,  
Or he hath so disguiz'de himself  
Ye know him not; perhaps h'has left  
His brand, and from his shoulders reft  
His painted wings; and thrown them by,  
With th'rest of his Artillery.  
But I'll give y'other marks of him, whereby  
Ye shall discern, and find him easily.  
This Love (thus masked) although he be  
Old both in years, and subtlety;  
Seems but a boy in shape, and face,  
And (like a boy in gate, and pace)  
Is never constant to one place.  
Such sports and pastimes useth he,  
As common unto children be;  
But all his sports he tempers so,  
they're dangerous, and full of woe  
To those he plays withal; displeased  
He will be soon, and soon appeased;  
And in his face at once appears  
An interchange of smiles and tears.  
His hair is gold, & curled, & grows  
(As Fortune often painted shows)  
Hanging long before; but short  
And thin on his heads hinderpart.  
His face cleare-coloured, & delightful,  
Like to fire is quick and sprightful;  
And doth easily express  
His minds audacious wantonness.  
His inflamed eyes are full of guile,  
Which still he sugars with a smile.  
Under the brow unhappily  
He uses oft to throw his eye,  
That rowles unsteedy here and there,  
And ne'er is firmly fixed any where.  
His tongue is sweet; and when he speaks  
A pleasing air from his lips breaks,  
In many ' a pieced imperfect word,  
Which yet a winning sound afford.  
His voice is shrill, and clear, and small,  
Which uttering, still he smiles withal;  
And those his fleering smiles doth baiyt  
With hidden treason, and deceit,  
Which (like the Snake) surke in the bed  
Of those flowers undiscovered.  
And first with these he doth begin  
To'vnlocke your breasts, and enter in.  
When having seemed all courtesy,  
All meekness, and humility,  
And that (as a poor pligrim) ye  
Have harbered him in charity,  
Than 'ginnes he by degrees, t'express  
Himself, and wrong your easiness,  
Grows proud and wondrous insolent.  
And never rests, is ne'er content  
Until he be (Ingrateful Elf).  
Possessed of your heats keys himself;  
And straight turns all those out of door  
That there inhabited before;  
And placeth others in their room,  
A troop of newer guests; to whom  
He makes your reason thrall; and finds  
New Laws wherewith to rule your minds;  
And thus becomes of a mild guest,  
A cruel Tyrant o'er the breast;  
And so his new placed Powers assist him  
He kills or conquers all that ere resist him,  
Now by these marks (both of his face,  
His behaviour, qualities, and grace)  
Which I have given ye ', I hope ye may  
Know this disguized runaway.  
Tell me ' I pray then, where is he?  
But not a man will answer me.  
you'll conceal him from me then?  
Ah foolish unadvised men,  
Ye cannot Love so closely hide,  
But that at length he will be spied;  
And in your words & looks appear,  
By tokens evident and clear;  
And then such hap will you betide,  
As unto him that seeks to hide  
A Snake in's bosom, till his cries  
And blood discover where he lies.  
But since I cannot find him here,  
(Ere I return up to my Sphere,)  
I'll seek for him on Earth some other where.   

Madrigal.  
Venus', I hear thou roam'st about  
To find thy wand'ring Cupid out,  
Who (having played the wag last day)  
For fear of britching slew away;  
And promisest to give a kiss  
To him can tell thee where he is;  
Come then, and thrive in thy request;  
Kiss me, and take him in my breast.    

ARIADNE'S COMPLAINT In Imitation of ANGVILLARA.  

NOw were the lesser tapers of the Night  
Burnt out; the Moon to ' her blazing Brothers ray  
Yielding the faint streams of her frailer light;  
And now the rosy Messenger of Day  
Her purple doors unbarring, restores sight  
To the blind world; fans the soft mists away  
From sleeping eyes; and to the day's behest  
Rouses up every bird, and every beast.   

When hapless Ariadne, with the day  
Opens her (yet drowsy) eyes; and first her head  
Turns on that side, where she supposed lay  
The treche'rous man that from her side is fled.  
Her loving hand first this, than th'other way  
She vain extends; in vain about the bed  
Her leg, and arm moves; whence a cold fear takes her,  
That startles every limb, and broad awakes her.   

She risen up; about her shoulders throws  
Her garment, and her widowed bed forsakes;  
With hair vnbound, and robe that loosely flows,  
(Led by the rage wherewith her swollen breast aches)  
Shrieking as one distraught, she frantic throws  
Her wild eyes here and there; then (speedy) makes  
towered the still shore; and that she finds bereft  
Of the false bark she late at anchor left.   

Now on the wharf she pores, now on the Main;  
But more than shore, and waters cannot see.  
A thousand times and more she calls in vaive,  
And the loved name repeats incessantly.  
Her voice the rocks receive, and back again  
The sound return, calling as well as she.  
Theseus she calls; the rocks do Theseus cry;  
Yet neither voice can purchase a reply.   

Along the sandy beache a steep cliff stands,  
Whose vaster limbs th'aspiring for head strain  
To height so aerye ', as it the sight expands  
Farr o'er the broad blue bosom of the Main.  
To this she runs; clambers with legs and hands,  
Nor weary rests till she the top attain.  
Hard is th'ascent of the rough craggy stone,  
Yet her will makes the difficulty none.   

Thence she discovers (for by this the day  
His broader light had oped) the swollen sails spread,  
And by the wild wind now brown fare away.  
From her discoloured cheeks the warm blood fled,  
Within her veins freezes; in her dismay  
She faints; and falls to th'carth colder than lead;  
Yet the same grief that doth of sense deprive her,  
Wakes her again, and doth anew revive her.   

Betwixt grief, disdain, and rage divided, thus  
She loud exclaimes; whither (false man) O whither  
Fliest thou disloyal? look, look Theseus,  
Look if that bark that brought us both together,  
(And should hold both, and holds but one of us)  
Carry the full freight hence it came with hither.  
Cruel! if thoust with thee my soul, and mind,  
Why leav'st thou th'other half of me behind?   

Ah canst though abide my loyal Spirit to range  
So far (to follow and attend on thee)  
From her own home; and this known breast exchange,  
For one so willing to be rid of me?  
Thus she complains; shrieks, weeps; to'her passions strange  
Strange gestures suiting of calamity.  
But th'heedless wind, what ere she sighing say,  
Blows the vain breath, and the winged bark away.   

Feeling her voice with shrieks grown faint, and hoarse,  
She waves her ceaseless arms about her head,  
And oft her garment; th'embarked eyes to force  
Back to the shore; but all was vain she did.  
The farr-sayled pine bears on his steady course  
So fast, as wholly ' almost to blue air fled.  
She waves, and beckons still, till from her sight  
She finds th'ungrateful sail is vanished quite.   

Yet still she gazes; and at length anew  
Mourns, and such clouds of woe her Powers benight,  
As, though her eyes redouble could their view,  
Her swelling tears would scarce alow them sight.  
More weak, her sense the more impatient grew;  
Whence with new thought she leaves the craggy height,  
And to the Tent breathless herself withdrew.  
She says, perhaps yet I may find him there;  
So strives to cousin, and delay her fear.   

But there her busiest search can nothing find,  
But deathlike silence, and an empty bed;  
Whereat (fresh passion tiring on her mind)  
With cheeks paler than roses plucked, and dead,  
Down on that side the Cabane where th'unkind  
And false Athenian late laid his head,  
Her head she lays; and with eyes showering still,  
Crossed arms, and sad groans, thus repeats her ill.   

O faithless man, what have I done alas,  
Or wherein ever ill deserved of thee,  
That in this uncouth solitary place  
Thou thus inhumanly abandonest me?  
Ah whither in this miserable case  
Shall I repair? what can my refuge be  
But death (for end of a state so distressed)  
By famine, or by some devowring beast.   

In this inhospitable Isle, untrode  
By humane foot, accompany'de with none  
But such as far from man have their abode,  
(Wild beasts, and wand'ring fowls,) thus all alone,  
Thus to be left? and under such a load  
Of woe, and none to pity ', or hear my moan?  
O falsest man, must I that from the grave  
Saved thee, for meed this sad requite all have?   

When through those errors of the maze I led thee,  
T' avoid th'undoubted forfeit of thy life;  
And with so timely ' advice, and aid bestedd thee,  
As rid thy land of tribute, thee of strife,  
Exchanged my native shores for those that bred thee,  
Kingdom, and friends, and all to dye thy wife;  
Have I for this, for this (false Theseus)  
Have I deserved to be requited thus?   

If through the doubtful Labyrinth I gave  
Thee th'easy mean t'escape, and set thee free,  
(Whom from the Minotaur no art could save  
But mine that purchased thy delivery,)  
Why dost thou not (an easier boon I crave)  
Why dost thou not from hence deliver me?  
If from that ravenous beast I saved thee, why  
Leav'st thou me here by ravenous beasts to dye?   

Or shall I tell myself, this Isle may be  
By men (though barbarous sure) inhabited,  
That may perhaps relieve, and secure me;  
Ere with beasts jaws, or hunger I be dead?  
Oh sillyest hope! when all this misery  
By trusting Man is fall'n upon my head,  
Is't possible I can ere be so vain,  
Ere be so mad to trust to Man again?   

Ah false smooth looks, feigned vizard of deceit;  
Lewd breast, fowl harbour of impiety;  
Bitter-sweete, tongue, baleful alluring bait  
Of my ore-credulous simplicity.  
Ah Theseus lay'dst thou all these foes in wait  
To circumvent so much Integrity?  
A great exploit no doubt th'haue done: betrayed  
The loyal bosom of a silly maid.   

Treacherous sleep; why charmd'st thou so mine eyes,  
And in thy soft chain held'st them fettered still,  
While the false fugitive did from me rise?  
Ye winds too, accessaries to my ill,  
Oh how officious (like corrupted spies  
Sett to betray me) did y'obey his will?  
First th'one surprised, and bound me where I lay;  
Th'other then stole, and bore my wealth away.   

And thou deceitful Tent, and faithless bed;  
O how ungrateful, how unjust ye be?  
When my Souls treasure I deposited,  
And safe entrusted to your custody,  
Was't not your dues t'have redeliu'red  
Into my hands what I delivered ye?  
But Theseus, why do ' I blame, bed, sleep, or wind,  
Poor underagents of thy treasonous mind?   

Thou, only thou'tis reau'st me of my life;  
Thou that so late coupled'st my hand with thine,  
In sign thou took'st me for thy wedded wife;  
And to the Rite summond'st the Powers divine  
For records; vowing till Death's fatal Knife  
Thy breath divided, to be ever mine.  
Then pluckd'st my Virgin flower; Thou, only thou  
False Man, hast thus abused, and left me now.   

Thou (my hearts first, next honours, now life's thief)  
Thou thou hast thus amidd these frights, and fears  
Left me'on this desolate shore, void of relief.  
A pray for howling Wolves, and greedy Bears.  
Fare from the care of a Paternal grief;  
Farr from the comfort of a Mother's tears;  
Whom I must never more behold; but die  
Without a friend near me to close my eye.   

Ah Theseus, thou now to thy native shore  
Returnest with honour, and immortal praise;  
Where (as a god) each one will thee adore,  
And circled thy victorious head with Bays;  
When thou shalt tell how to the fatal door,  
(Through th' intricacy of so many ways)  
Thou got'st; and then having the Monster slain,  
So easy ' a mean, found'st to get out again.   

The father to his child will pointing cry,  
Lo yond is Theseus that adventured  
His life, to gain his Country's liberty;  
And hath the Land from thrall delivered.  
When I that helped thee to the victory,  
Shall here lie dead; perhaps unburied.  
annex this stratagem to th'other past,  
How thou here left'st thy loyal wife at last.   

So foul a deed will all the rest deface,  
T'have paid such faith with such impiety.  
Ah nevermore (for shame) steal for thy grace  
From ancient Kings thy feigned Pedigree;  
Thy mother never was of Pitheus' race;  
Nor could Egeus ere thy father be.  
Rather the breasts of some wild Panther fed thee,  
Or savage Tigar in the desert bred thee.   

This sighed; she leaves the Tent; and the steep cliff  
Again ascends: diversifies her woes  
With fresh plaints; now weeps, now shrieks out her grief.  
Echo (that from the depths at her cry rose)  
Lends (in compassion) all the poor relief  
She can; meeting her plaints at every close.  
And when her tender hand each th'other beats,  
She imitates, and the sad noise repeats.   

Ah (says she) could I'in space of a short groan  
From hence to thy Ships prow trensported be,  
That from the hatches thou wight'st hear my moan,  
And these sad pangs of my affliction see;  
Were not thy heart harder than is the stone  
I tread upon, sure thou wouldst pity me.  
But though gross air doth from thine eyes withhold me,  
With some remorse yet in thy thought behold me.   

Behold yet in thy thought my bitter plaint:  
Behold these tears, that with a frequent rain  
Drench my torn hair: o could thy fant'sie paint  
To life but the least part of my vast pain,  
Knewest thou how oft this voice (now hoarse and faint)  
Hath call'de thee ' already, and still calls in vain;  
Thou'dst restore all, to me of all bereft;  
T'whom scarce so much as even to hope is left.   

Ah Theseus, yet return: do not forget  
Thyself so much, to be so merciless;  
For my desert of thee, relieve me yet,  
Before I fall into so great distress.  
Ah no! for my desert I'll not entreat;  
Since thou neglectest it, and my faithfulness.  
Yet be ' it thy own sword saved thy life, not I;  
It follows not that I should therefore dye.   

O if ere humane pity one soft beam shed  
Into thy bosom, let me not in vain  
Thus still implore thee; but (though far hence fled)  
Steare hither that so longed-for Bark again.  
And if at thy return thou find me dead,  
Let yet thy hapless wives cold bones obtain  
This mercy; to be gathered up by thee,  
And in thy native Athens buried be.   

While thus th'afflicted one (her shining hair  
And fair flesh tearing) desperately mourns;  
And in her restless fit of rage, and fear  
(Mixed Feaver-like) freezes at once, and burns;  
Th'ever-young god, that late was conqueror  
Of Ind, and now thence under sail returns,  
In happy hour espies her; and his sails  
Directs toward the rock whereon she wails.   

Soon as the jove-borne Bacchus his gaze bend  
On her sheen forehead, and alluring eyes;  
And (with the shrill sighs that her bosom rend)  
Observed the sweet sad tenor of her cries;  
And understood her lineage and descent  
Derived from two so supreme dietyes  
As jove himself by Sires; by mother's side  
From the bright God that doth the winged Day guide;   

He burns in amorous fire; prays, persuades, tries  
From their sad mood her sorrowing thoughts to woo  
With all the softest words he can device:  
But finds all vain that he can say, or do.  
She heeds him not; but still on Theseus cries.  
Yet he, resolved to win, and wed her too,  
Summons the Paphian queen; and to her care  
Commits the menage of his love's affair.   

Venus, that ever was god Bacchus' friend,  
(And whom his absence faint, & mirthless makest)  
Doth at his call, her best assistance lend;  
And to accomplish what she undertakes,  
With careful hand doth to the cure attend  
Of th'old wound (first,) whereof her bosom aches.  
Which healed; she ' inspires Liaeus eyes, that dart  
New fires, which through her eyes inflame her heart.   

And for his sake, to do her grace, whom he  
Hath chosen for companion of his bed;  
Though from Apollo she descended be,  
(Whom since her stolen loves he discovered,  
She hates;) yet as from her sires forfeit free,  
She'imbraces her; and from her own fair head  
A bright crown takes, (for mortal brows unfit,  
So rich it was;) and crownes her brows with it.   

This Crown had Vulcan forged: Earth's richest mine  
The matter gave; which to embellish more,  
He taught the curious hoop all o'er to shine  
With brightest gems the wealthy Orient boar.  
So rich a diadem scarce Pour divine,  
Much less inferior Mortal ever wore.  
No marvel; since the great Artificer  
Made it of purpose for his wife to wear.   

The Cyprian goddess with her fair hand dries  
The wailing maids drowned cheeks Liaeus woos;  
She shuns; but faintly. Faintly ' a while denies.  
At last yields For alas how can she choose,  
Assailed by two so powerful dyeties?  
Her mind doth now all thought of Theseus lose.  
Bacchus she love's. He marries her. And (night  
Once come) both taste the nuptial bed's delight.   

And that her fame (although she mortal were)  
Might to ensuing times be ever new;  
The pleased god takes the crown from her fair hair;  
Which as to th' Arctic icy Pole he threw,  
The diadem through thin and yielding air  
In an vninterrupted circle flew  
Up towards Boötes, and the slow Teeme; where  
Arcturus guards the great, and lesser Bear.   

As it ascends, each precious gem thereon  
Redoubled lustre by the motion gains.  
A seu'erall Star is now each seu'erall stone.  
Yet so the former shape entire remains,  
As still in every eye that looks thereon,  
The Constellation a crowns form retains.  
And when the sullen night on th'earth doth frown,  
Who see's it, calls it Ariadne's Crown.   
FINIS.