The Extravagant shepherd. A pastoral comedy, written in French by T. Corneille. Englished by T. R. 1654.  HORAT. Aut prodesse solent, aut delectare Poëtae. 
LONDON, Printed by I. G. for Tho: Heath, dwelling in Russel street in Covent-Garden near the Piazza. 1654.   

To the most virtuous LADY Mrs. JOANNA THORNHILL, wife to the Honourable Col: RICH: THORNHILL, of Ollantigh in KENT.  
MADAM,  
AS my many Obligations to your Name, in both your Relations of Husband and Brother, have long since claimed from me a public Acknowledgement, so those to your Person have created in me a Confidence, not only to obtain Pardon for this Presumption, but a Protection of this Innocent Stranger, who durst not venture abroad without it. Such is his Innocency, that in this habit he might, without Gaul to the Spectators, have entered the theatre( had not the Guilty Ones of this Age, broken that mirror lest they should there behold their own horrible Shapes represented) but now he is fain to seek Sanctuary, which cannot be found, but at the Altar of an Immaculate virtue, which( Madam) all that are so happy as to know you, confess to be raised in your Name, under whose shadow, as under laurel, poor Lysis will not only be secured from the Thunder of the Times, but I shall be absolved from my Errors, and confirmed, with all Devotion, to continue in all Gratitude,  
( Madam) Your most humble Servant, T. R.   

dramatis Personae.  

LYSIS the Extravagant shepherd.  
ANGELICA a Nymph, Sister to Montenor.  
HIKCAN Brother to Lucida.  
MONTENOR a shepherd in love with Lucida.  
ANSELM a shepherd in love with Angelica.  
CLARIMOND in love with Charita.  
LUCIDA a shepherdess, sister to Hircan.  
CHARITA a shepherdess, Cousin to Angelica:  
ADRIAN Cousin to Lysis.  
SYNOPE CLORISE Damosels, Neighbours to Angelica.   The Scene in BRIE.  

The Extravagant shepherd.  


Actus primus. Scaena prima.  Enter Lysis in the Equipage of a shepherd driving his Flock before him. 
FEed my dear Sheep, faithful Companions feed  
Through all those verdant plains from danger freed;  
Thanks to my Shepherdess, we now behold  
An Age, as glorious as that Age of Gold.  
But on the gillyflowers, and Roses feed,  
That spring in every place, where she doth tread;  
Taste without fear, no food so sweet will prove,  
Against Wolves; your Centinel's the God of Love;  
He loves what She affects, and kindly looks  
Upon her faithful shepherd and his Flocks.  
Flocks, which long since being marked for his own,  
Feel no diseases, that in Sheep are known.  
Charita, thou fair shepherdess, whom we  
Adore, the flower and choice of all in Brie:  
How powerful thine eyes! how bright! how fair!  
By which, thus to keep Sheep, thy Lovers are  
Constrained! compared to their bright sparkling rays,  
The Sun itself a gloomy light displays▪  
Whose weaker beams are but reflections vain,  
When those of thy bright eyes begin to reign.  
Therefore, poor Sun, thy fault's beyond compare,  
That still presumest t' illuminate the air;  
Quit, quit that care to th' Object I adore,  
Thy shame unto the world expose no more:  
Lie close within the Seas, nor day, nor night  
Thy crystal Palace quit, nor Amphitrite.  
But since thou wilt go on— 'tis best for me  
To feast myself with this frugality.  
Feed, feed my pretty Lambs, while I like you  
Thus sitting on the grass, the same will do.  Ent. Clarimond.[ He sits down, and taking fruits out of his pouch, looking back, he spies Clarimond, who surprised to see a man clad like an ancient Roman Shepherd, stood still to view him.]  

SCENE II.  Lysis, Clarimond. Lysis. 
Pan guard thee shepherd, whither art thou going?  
Art thou disposed to taste our shepherds fare?  
I have some other fruits within my pouch,  
And those we'll share, and feast the best we can:  
And if we thirst, the River is not far.  
Pray take your place.—  Clar. 
I thank ye, I'll not eat,  
I have no stomach,— but good Sir, resolve me,  
What great, important business brings you hither?  Lys. 
I like thy freedom, and I love thee for't:  
To be inquisitive doth argue Wit,  
And Curiosities when th' are discreet.  Cl. 
O no more compliment!— what art thou prithee?  Lys. 
What am I? Sure thou canst not but discern:  
Shepherd( I thank God Pan) I am a shepherd—  
But what remote Country dost thou inhabit  
That art thus ignorant of th' affairs of Brie?  
For though thy garments differ much from mine,  
I guess thou art a Shepherd too.  Cl 
'Tis true,  
I am indeed so, and perhaps to morrow  
I shall more plainly show you what I am,  
In the mean time, may I know your condition?  Lys. 
I'm too good natured to deny thee that.—  
Sit down.  ( Sitting down by him) Cl 
Who e'er saw such extravagance?  Lys. 
For thy sake, I'll put up my fruits again,  
To me the Hour's indifferent, and you know  
A good Discourse is better than a Feast,  
Besides the brizes that refresh these plains,  
Make the place very proper for our Story.  
Know then that Love,( that Son of Chaos) who  
So often doth disturb his mother's rest,  
And were it not for whom we shepherds might  
Scorn the felicity of greatest Kings,  
This blind clear-sighted God, this peevish Boy,  
Endeavoured to enslave me from my youth:  
But, knowing how he used to treat his Captives,  
I still avoided that mischievous God;  
And I had fooled him yet a thousand times,  
If to subdue this heart so long assailed;  
Finding that all his Forces were too weak,  
He had not called Charita to his aid,—  
Charita!— oh how that fair name doth ravish!  Cl. 
she's fair then?  Lys. 
Fair? fair with Hyperbole,  
Heap up a thousand fairest things together,  
Think of the lilies beauties, and of Roses,  
And borrow for her eyes the Sun's bright rays;  
Plant on each cheek the best vermilion Dye,  
Then with a faithful pencil vively paint— ( Scratches  
Well shepherd( to be brief) conclude her fair. his head)  Cl. 
Wonderful piece!  Lys. 
It was at Paris, where  
Before I was a shepherd I was taken.  Cl. 
And as she then took you, so you took her!  Lys. 
Could she hold out against so great deserts?  
I shall not tell thee, what sweet Trances than  
I felt, and with what ecstasies transported,  
Nor how to make her yielding to my sighs,  
I died a thousand times, as oft revived,  
I'll only tell thee, that my greatest bliss  
Proceeded from a project which Love taught her.  
Persuading her to come, and live in Brie,  
Here to revive the ancient shepherds Life,  
Some five or six days since she hither came,  
And made my bliss that of the Gods exceed,  
For truly I know none, so perfect, as  
To live a shepherd, and to sway the Crook.  
there's neither Tree, nor Rock, in all these parts  
Wherein we have not charactered our Loves;  
And were it not for one thing that I fear—  Cl. 
Dost thou fear aught?  Lys. 
Yes left some ugly satire,  
Lest some Goat-footed God, enamoured of her,  
Find her alone, and maugre all her cries—  Cl. 
Fie, no, your Love's too apprehensive; here's  
No satire, but o'er whom I do command,  
Rest satisfied.  Lysis ( rising.) 
Do you then give them laws?  Clar. 
They know me well, and tremble under me.  Ly. ( Knelt.) 
Great Deity of these our sacred Groves▪  
Accept the homage of thy prostrate shepherd;  
For 'tis to Pan I speak, who in my love  
T'assist me, is thus purposely disguised,  
Thy more than human looks makes that too clear.  
Pardon me that I knew thee not before;  
Henceforth upon thy Sacred Altars, I  
Will daily offer-store of Milk and Wine,  
And every Month will choose the fattest Lamb  
Of all my Flocks, to be thy Sacrifice.  Clar. 
What mean you shepherd?  Lys. 
Suffer me this day;—  Cl. 
You injure Pan to worship Me for him,  
Observe me well; for such a festival,  
I do both want his horns, and cloven-feet.  Lys. 
Your mortal habit hides Divinity—   

SCENE III.  Enter to them Adrian. Adr. 
Ah fool art there?  Lys. ( turning about) 
Cousin Adrian! Is't you?  Adr. 
Yes it is, I'm tormented with thy follies;  
Art thou come hither then to play thy pranks?  
Would thou were't safe i' th' hospital of fools!  Lys. ( rising) 
Peace; give me leave my reasons to allege,  
( For that should be the refuge of us all)  
This gracious shepherd here shall be our Judge:  
Deciv'd with his perfections I even now  
Took him for Pan disguised like a mortal,  
Nay— look you to't, he hath the countenance,  
If not of Pan, of Mercury, or Cupid.  Adr. 
Oh Heaven! what Folly, what Extravagance!—  Lys. 
You blame the shepherds, but alas, too blindly;  
Is any life more full of sweets than this?  
Is not their Name, as ancient as the World?  
And when Deucalion would mankind restore  
Out of the first Stone he a shepherd made.  
And Kings of old( whom I am proud to follow)  
Made their Sons shepherds, as the way to live.  
The Gods, on Earth have often ta'en that habit,  
And great Apollo kept Admetus' Sheep,  
And even those wand'ring stars, we see above  
Are Beasts, that feed within those shining plains▪  
And who are fit to keep them but the Gods?  
Then, for our Sheep, what is of greater worth?  
We feed upon them, shear them, and receive  
The yearly tribute of their wealthy fleeces.  
And as they say( the more to be adored).  
Jove once transformed himself into a Ram,  
And Greece ne'er knew a nobler enterprise  
Then when the Argonauts fetched home the fleece,  
'Tis the first Sacrifice was made to Pan.  
This is to let you know,( Cousin Adrian)  
That though the World revile it, yet to lead  
Our Flocks to feed 's a noble exercise.  
And to what serves your tedious noise of Cities?  
Of Merchants, Officers, or Advocates?  
Read Julietta, and then tell me, if  
Arcadia ever knew such names as these?  
They all were shepherds, and lived free from care,  
And I would have them here to be so governed.  
Believe me( Cousin) leave your City trades,  
Let us together dress our Pastures, bring  
Your Wife, your Children,— here you'll live at ease:  
She shall a shepherdess, they shepherds be,  
And we will all in perfect pleasures live,  
And to the bagpipe, under elms we'll dance.  Adr. 
Ah( Sir) you see, to what a strange excess  
This poor frenetic Spirit is transported,  
How much extravagance—  Lys. ( turning from them) 
My dear Charita!  
If thou dost kill me, give me life again!  [ He retires to a corner of the Stage, where he lies down.] Cl. 
While he talks to himself, be pleased to tell me  
The hidden cause of that which troubles him,  
I find his frantic fits, of a strange nature.  Adr. 
It's the issue of a vain, and cursed reading:  
His Father was a Merchant and Citizen  
Of Paris, and being rich, looked on him only,  
And thinking to provide for him an Office,  
T'adorn his innocent, and harmless mind,  
Caused him to Study, where all that he learned  
Was to o'erthrow that little wit he had.  
He read Romances only, and believed them,  
Admired all the shepherds feigned adventures,  
And his weak brain by those vain fables, did  
So soon descend in th' air of Love, and Beauty:  
That in a year or two he thus besotted  
Would wilfully assume this present habit:  
'Twas laboured with much reason to convince him,  
But he still talked of Sheep, and of his Crook,  
Yet studied more, but thought less of his office,  
And though he still persisted in his frenzy,  
Yet was it worse, when his good Father died:  
The Romance of Astraea was then published,  
Where reading Hylas, and Sylvander's jars,  
His brain being very soft in such a case,  
He needs would be their judge, and hear them plead,  
And so resolved to go into the forests,  
And, had not I still caused him to be followed,  
He doubtless more had credited his book,  
Than our advice. His Frenzy still continuing,  
He oft would lock himself into his Chamber,  
Where without let, pursuing his wild fancies,  
drop reg've heard him act the shepherds part alone.  
In fine, the Mode of these Romances ceasing,  
His mind a long time seemed less distracted,  
And certainly that Heat began to cool,  
Had he not haunted Comedies last Winter:  
When, earnest oft to see their Amaryllis,  
He again revived his thoughts of Flocks and Crooks'.  
He drew me too to see that cursed Play;  
And cried at every line, O wonderful!  
Scarce could he keep himself within his skin,  
All seemed so ravishing, so rarely new:  
Never was Man there, more intent than He,  
'Twas Acted, and he there an hundred times,  
So that embarked again by their lewd babbling,  
And finding time to make his bundle ready,  
And all trust up, he early in a morning  
Came hither, thus to act his foolish part,  
But I shall put such Fetters on him, that  
He shall no longer thus dishonour us.  Cl. 
His humour's troublesome, but yet take heed  
Lest your confining him should break his quiet▪  
A Prison's terrible to soundest minds,  
And the diseased it oft exasperates.  Adr. 
'Tis true; but what amendment can I hope?  Cl. 
If you'll advise with me, let him alone,  
What dost concern you here? Y' are far from Paris,  
Let him accomplish what he has designed,  
Let him pursue this Sally of his thoughts,  
Perhaps a week, or so, may cure his folly,  
And he not finding in a Sheepherd's life,  
The fancied pleasures that enticed him to it,  
It may more easy prove to make him see  
The error, which his books did first create.  Adr. 
Well, for a day or too I'll leave him then,  
Although I came by chance into this place,  
And have gone very far to find him out.  
My affairs engage me to a quick return,  
Th' are pressing, and of great importance to me.  Ex. Cl. 
Farewell; I'll have a care he shall not wander.   

SCENE IV.  Enter to them Anselm, in the habit of a shepherd, Lysis lying still talking to himself. Cl. 
He as left us here inestimable treasure:  
Was ever fool of a more pleasant humour?  
But what illusion's this surpriseth me?  
What is't? is all the world turned fool like him?  Ans. 
What! Clarimond it seems does hardly know me;  Cl. 
Oh Heavens! in what a shape dost thou appear?  
is't Anselm?  Ans. 
Yes I'm Anselm still for you.  
But my romantic Name is Polidore.  Cl. 
D'ye act a part in some new Comedy?  
Or hath this fool involved you in his follies?  Ans. 
You know him then?  Clar. 
Arrived here yesternight  
drop reg've almost learned already his full story,  
Himself did spend much time t' inform me in it.  
But there is one Charita much in's thoughts;  
Who's that rare Object?  Ansel. 
I'm pleased with this surprise:  
You name Charita, and ask who she is.  Clar. 
What, is't that fair One now with Angelica?  
Her Cousin?  Ansel. 
The same: 'tis she that wounds him.  Clar. 
Being entangled in such easy chains,  
Although his thoughts did err, his eye did not:  
But since this beauty is the same Charita,  
Whose merits I have oft proclaimed at Paris,  
I'd gladly share the incomparable sport  
This day to be a shepherd, and his Rival,  
Induced to this disguise by your example.  Ansel. 
Faith do not wonder that you see me thus;  
'tis Angelica's power over me.  
Her service is so sweet a Law to me,  
That knowing Pastorals did always please her,  
I'm made a shepherd, Charita a shepherdess,  
She likewise acts her part, but one more gentle,  
For her, among us, we have made a Nymph.  Clar. 
This needs must be as pleasant as 'tis rare;  
But I must let her know what I intend,  
She being a Nymph, we all must seem to court her.  Lys. 
Ah!—  ( crying out awaking from a dead sleep.) Ansel. 
What ail ye shepherd?  ( running to him.) Lys. 
'Twas a stretch of Love.—  
I thought my soul was quitting its abode,  
Musing upon that fairest fair Charita.  Ansel. 
Indeed th' are pleasant thoughts, and worthy of you,  
But we must leave you in so sweet a rapture;  
Farewell, the Heavens have care of what concerns you.  Ex. Lys. 
Courteous shepherds, Pan have you in his keeping▪   

SCENE V.  Enter( to him) Charita in the habit of a shepherdess. Lys. 
Fair Birds which daily in the air do move,  
And singing praise the Object of my Love,  
What equal to her merits do you see?  ( appearing among the Trees) Ch. 
What does this Fool alone? what are his thoughts?  Lys. 
But I to mutes in vain my speed apply,  
I'd better speak to th' echo of these groves,  
Who oft to reason with us shepherds love.  ( sitting down behind a Tree) Ch. 
I'll be his echo, 'twill be a rare Scene.  Lys. 
Nymph I, of Love unheard-of torments, bear,  
drop reg've often spoke it, didst thou never hear?  Ch. 
Here—  Lys. 
Good She replies:— but since my griefs, by chance,  
Are known, how shall I cure their great abundance?  Ch. 
Dance—  Lys. 
Well sing or Whistle, and I'll dance with you:  
Charita says she loves me,— is it true?  Ch. 
True—  Lys. 
But I can nought obtain, though I ne'er cease  
T'entreat her ease the pains that me oppress.  Ch. 
Press—  Lys. 
Well said, I'll now believe thee, it shall be done,  ( rising) 
And to demand her aid I'll straightway run.  Ch. 
Run—  Lys. 
Farewell. So may thy minion every day,  
Narcissus visit thee where ere thou stay.  Ch. 
Stay—  Lys. 
Stop me? didst thou not say my torments by  
Her sight should all be cured happily?  Ch. 
Ily—  Lys. 
Leave jesting, and my cruel pains abate,  
What must I hope for then? her love or hate?  Ch. 
Her hate—  Lys. 
What shall I do, alas, if weeping I  
Cannot her mind appease? sad Tragedy!  Ch. 
Die—  Lys. 
But what death shall I choose, if, so abhored  
I beg her aid, and she will none accord?  Ch. 
Accord—  Lys. 
A Cord? ah you surprise me now, you know,  
I have no Cord, but that on Cupid's bow:  
Nymph, is not that the Cord for which you call?  
Answer.  Ch. 
No 'tis a Cord to hang thyself withal.  Lys. 
Foolish, and sottish Nymph, you prate too much;  
Whence comes this humour in you? are you drunk?  
Or knowing th'u'rt less fair than my Charita,  
Envy or shame hath made thee talk so fast.  
I see her— my fair star!  ( Charita enters the Stage) Ch. 
What are you doing?  Lys. 
Before a Goddess men ought thus to kneel,  ( Knelt) 
And ever with all reverence receive  
The influence of her Divine aspects.  Ch. 
No, shepherd no, I hate all such respects,  
These adorations may seem good at Paris,  
But here men ought to live in a full freedom.  Lys. 
'Tis true, 'twas ever granted unto shepherds;  
Oh high design, and rare, inspired by love!  
To quit foul Paris for this pleasant place!  
What a delicious life shall we enjoy?  
The Gods themselves, the Gods do envy us.  
Sometimes assembled, we shall laugh and dance,  
Sometimes we shall retire again alone,  
Sitting sometimes in shades, sometimes on Fearne,  
Where thou shalt call Me shepherd, and I Thee  
My shepherdess, and placing Love between us,  
Play at a thousand pretty little games,  
And sometimes gather— Charita— my soul—  
Help— help thy shepherd that's now swooning— ah—  
Cruel dost thou recoil?  Ch. 
Have I not reason?  
If you should swoon your fall may crush me too,  
To me your body does not seem so light,  
But that it well may hurt your shepherdess.  Lys. 
Go, thou'rt inhuman, and I now perceive  
thoust no remorse for all th'ill thoust done me;  
Thy heart's of Brass, steel, Marble, and of Stone.  Char. 
What have I done that merits this reproach?  
Have I, that I should now be thus abused,  
Provoked you by neglect, or have I scratched you?  Lys. 
Yes, but you have no sense( malignant Beauty)  
The nails of your aspect do daily claw me.  
And, the sharp rays of your so glittering looks  
Have given me here a wound will ne'er be healed.  Char. 
'Tis true; their force is somewhat terrible,  
Yet do not think the wound's incurable;  
I'll cure you— but farewell until anon.  Lys. 
Hard Anaxarete! art gone so soon?  
See how thine Iphis grieves at thy departure.  Char. 
I hast to find the shepherdess Lucida,  
Th' expect her at the nymphs.—  Lys. 
Thou mak'st me tremble!  
Why dost thou aggravate so great a grief?  Char. 
D'ye fear to see her?  Lys. 
Ah!— drop reg've cause to fear,  
No shepherd hath more reason to complain,  
I fly what me pursues, and love what flies me.  Char. 
You still are angry when she follows you—  
But oft disdain, conceals a real flame,  
And y' are more tractable perhaps in private.  Lys. 
With her in private? no believe me, fair One,  
The heart of Lysis is so chained to thee,  
That thou shalt have it chaste, pure, and unmixed,  
Entire: and sooner than I'll turn to change,  
Or other beauty shall have power t' ensnare me.  
Rivers shall run revolted from the Seas;  
Those liquid Courts shall want their Nayaedes  
The hamadryads, and the fauns forsake  
The Woods, and all the World new Orders take,  
And Wolves against the dogs our Flocks defend.—  Char. 
This solemn Oath hath given me faith at once,  
Farewell kind shepherd.—  Lys. 
Shepherds Farewell.  
My heart's committed to you, have a care on't;—  
Go my dear Lambs, seek Pasture farther off,  
For Sol's too scorching rays by shining here,  
Hath burnt the grass, and left these places bare.  
The end of the first Act.    


Actus secundus. Scaena prima.  Enter Lucida, Montenor,( like a shepherd.) Lucid. 
A Little complaisance, and shepherds habit  
Seem to engage you in designs of Love,  
But pray no more of this disguise with me,  
Impose not this constraint upon yourself  
And believe, without speaking more of Love,  
Your worth's sufficient to gain esteem.  Monten. 
Hath the mild violence of a love so pure  
So little power to persuade you then?  
And since your fair eyes set me all a fire  
T' avow it is complacency enough.  Lucid. 
Thus credulous Spirits are too easy taken,  
And though men are all Ice they'll swear they burn,  
But this discourse of fire proves little heat;  
The more you say, the less I do believe.  Mon. 
Your humour's contrary to lover's hopes;  
How can you know their flames if they keep silence?  
And if they speak they are believed deceitful.  Lucid. 
Love hath an ideome to explain itself  
I' th' midst of silence, it speaks, and persuades,  
And its least motion's filled with Eloquence.  
One sigh oft in a moment utters much,  
He must speak low whom th'heart not understands.  Mon. 
If th' heart so well Love's language apprehend,  
Would ye have clearer evidence of mine?  
My heart hath sighed an hundred times near you,  
My languishing as often hath declared it,  
And daring not t' express the wounds you gave me,  
I oft strove to interpret with mine eyes;  
But their sad looks could not express their story:  
And, though some foolish hope may dare presume,  
The cunningest sighs have but dumb Eloquence  
If th' heart consent not to its own surprise,  
Nor can their correspondence well consist,  
If Love persuade them not to lend an ear.  Lucid. 
Then that's the cause I have not understood  
What you pretend, your sighs have signified:  
But two or three piping, and dying groans,  
Have often proved false pleadings of true love,  
And since you see I understand it not,  
You happily do seek advantage by it.  Mon. 
Doubt not an Heart so subject to your laws;  
Be witness all you Trees within these Groves  
How oft alas, there, seeking solitude,  
drop reg've entertained them with my sighs and groans,  
How oft drop reg've boasted of that glorious power,  
Your eyes in secret practice on my soul.  
How oft rehearsed the wounds their beams have given me.  Lucid. 
When they tell me so, I'll believe my share.  Mon. 
Cruel, is this then all that I can now—  Lucid. 
Hircan's my Brother, I depend on him.  Mon. 
Judge better of my flame, and know though 'tis  
Extreme, 'twill owe your heart to none but you:  
And that 'twill use in the pursuit none but—  Lucid. 
Peace Montenor, the company is coming.   

SCENE II.  Enter to them Angelica, Anselm, Charita. Ang. 
Shepherds believe't my joy's beyond compare,  ( To Mon. and Lucid.) 
To see you so well act the shepherds part;  
Blush not Lucida, Phillis and Lycidas,  
Were often wont to single out each other,  
And great Diana ne'er refused to talk  
With Paris, or Syliander from the rest.  Lucid. 
You make a just construction, yet I doubt  
Who e'er accuses me, may do the same,  
If Polidor's discourse had pleased you less,  
You would perhaps have sooner found us out.  Mont. 
Sister, she hits you home with her reply.  ( To Angel. Angel. 
Sh'as reason, I confess, for what she says:  
Our coming sooner might have more disturbed ye,  
Had he had nothing private to say to me.  Char. 
Thus may all four( methinks) live full content,  
Mean while I have my share among ye too,  
While sweets on sweets are heaped up for you,  
I'm fain to entertain myself with thoughts.  Angel. 
Yet we are taught to understand thy worth,  
Whose beauty has, this day, begot such Rivals.  Char. 
Build not so much upon another's ruin,  
My time perhaps may come as well as yours.  Angel. 
I were an Infidel if I should doubt it,  
Since Clarimond becomes a shepherd for thee.  Char. 
Knowing, that for my sake, our fool thus sighs,  
He ought at least to swear't for laughters sake.  
Yet faith, let him dissemble as he please,  
we'll see at last how well he will escape.  Angel. 
Thou never speakest to thine own disadvantage.  Char. 
I hate the foolish use of a false virtue;  
Who from himself expects nought, nought receives.  
Methinks our Rival-Sheepherds tarry long.  Ansel. 
'Tis here that Lysis leads his Flock to feed,  
And we shall see him here ere it be long.  Angel. 
He has a Language may be called his own.  Ans. 
His discourse heretofore was less unsmooth,  
But since he Virgil read, in bombast verse,  
His Tongue is laden with fantastic Words,  
And thinks that all the Gods speak just the same,  
And concludes that the best of Dialects▪  Angel. 
He has an empty skull.—  Char. 
So dull a head!  
That he could not discern me by my voice,  
When I instead of Echo answered him.  Mon. 
Can he endure your jesting, being mad?  
But— hist,— I hear him sing.  Lucid. 
Pray hide yourselves,  
And be spectators of our raillery;  
I'll give him now his bellyful of Love.  Angel. 
Nay hold, pray first let's hear his courtly air.  ( They all hide themselves behind the Trees, except Lucida, who accosts him after he hath sung.)  

SCENE III.  Lys. 
When Love to two united hearts,  sings. 
The sweets of prudent flames imparts,  
How pleasant 'tis the Crook to bear!  
How sweet of Sheep to have the care!  
Thus sitting by a crystal brook,  
A shepherd sung, whom love had struck,  
To love a shepherdess how sweet!  
How pleasant 'tis when Loves do meet.  Lucid. 
Fair object of my flames, and my misfortune,  
May this day prove more blessed to Thee than Me!  Lys. 
In vain thy flame, troublesome shepherdess,  
Doth claim a compliment, not meant to thee.  Lucid. 
When wilt thou cease, thus to make War upon me?  
And lay aside these scorns that break my heart?  Lys. 
When Elmes shall the embrace of Ivy fly,  
And ravenous Wolves with Lambs live peacefully.  Lucid. 
Though thy severity doth still increase,  
I'll be the same that ever I professed.  Lys. 
Ixion heretofore embraced a Cloud,  
And so Lucida may embrace the Wind.  Lucid. 
The raging Seas at last will leave their fury,  
So may thy hatred have a time to cease.  Lys. 
As Rocks unshaken stand against those billows,  
So is my heart unmoved by thy love.  Lucid. 
For Pan's sake, shepherd, and the Hamadriads,  
Refuse me not a civil entertainment.  Lys. 
If they the maladies of Love can cure,  
Th' hadst best go offer up thy vows to them.  Lucid. 
'Mong Scythians fierce, at thy Nativity,  
Thy heart was filled with Ice, nothing can thaw it.  Lys. 
Derive me( if thou wilt) from Caucasus,  
So thou no more disturb me with thy Love.  Lucid. 
May thy best Sheep be left a prey to Wolves,  
If thus to rigour thou expose my soul!  Lys. 
I'll suffer them to come within my folds,  
When thou shalt have possession of my heart.  Lucid. 
Thou tiger, nursed up by a tigress fierce,  
Thy proud disdain will open me my grave.  Lis. 
So far am I from a design to kill thee,  
I never had a thought to touch thy skin.  Lucid. 
Thou dost distract my soul, and thy sharp talons,  
Soon as I see thee, tear it into pieces.  Lys. 
I know not how to patch up a torn soul,  
And, prithee, what should I do with the pieces?  Lucid. 
You may cement them but with one sweet word,  
And from an Hell of woes raise me to Heaven.  Lys. 
If such a thing as that can cure thy folly,  
Of Honey, or of Sugar take thy choice.  Lucid. 
Grant either of them to my constancy,  
Of Hope the Sugar, of thy Faith the Honey.  Ly. 
If thy fond constancy do honey need,  
Farewell— you must seek other Bees than Me.  Lucid. 
Stay thou bright Torch of my too amorous life,  
Suffer my flames at least to live in hope.  Ly. 
Thy life's in danger to be wondrous dark,  
If I'm the Torch that must enlighten it.  Lucid. 
If for thy high deserts, that name's too low,  
See thou Apollo, and vouchsafe to cure me.  Ly. 
Thanks to thee ( Sylvia) I must be gone;  
If I'm the Sun I must be ever running.   

SCENE IV.  Enter( to them) Angel. Anselm. Montenor, Charita. Angel. 
Whither so fast, good shepherd?  Ly. 
Prudent Nymph,  
I'm in Retreat before mine Enemy.  Char. 
Will not Lucida speak to us to day?  ( Lucida going aside, as if unwilling to be surprised with Lysis.) Ly. 
No, let her stay a while behind those bushes,  ( To Charit.) 
And give her time to recollect her soul  
From th' trouble of her late rejected flame.  Angel. 
She than persists to persecute you still.  Ly. 
Any but Lysis would be tempted by her,  
But though her love of me doth still afflict her,  
Charita's still Charita, she Lucida.  Char. 
And since my shepherd all contemns for me,  
He has most really my heart, and faith,  
Our souls are both possessed with equal flames.  Lys. 
Truce to these sweets a while— you ravish me!  
Oh.—  Cha. 
Sigh ye?  Ly. 
Shepherdess my care—  
'Tis a precaution that I thus do sigh,  
Lest too much ardour should at once surprise me,  
And I soon find my heart reduced to ashes,  
By the too active flames of my desires.  
Did not the Air of these my sighs refresh it.  Lu. 
Why talk ye with the Honour of our plains?  ( returning to the Stage.) Ch 
We talk of meadows, pastures, and of Flocks,  
We must dissemble—  ( To Lysis softly.) Ly. 
And we likewise talk  ( Pointing at Charita.) 
Of that fair shining eye, that caused my grief,  
Yes, of thine eye divine, thou charming beauty!  Ang. 
Such language, shepherd, does affront your Mistress,  
The brightness of her eyes, you see's not common,  
They both can charm, and yet you praise but one.  
What rhapsody of love doth make you talk so?  Ly. 
Why I assume the language of the Poets.  
This style to them was ever held peculiar,  
I purposely, like them, spoke but of one,  
But yet with no design t' offend my fairest;  
For either of those Suns afford me light,  
And when I swear her fair eye's skilled to charm,  
I speak no more o'th' left than of the right  Ans. 
What say you now Nymph?  ( To Angel.) Angel. 
'Tis a prudent answer.  Ly. 
Silence!— I hear far off a Bagpipe's sound.—  
Oh how melodious!—  ( Enter Clarimond like a shepherd.) Mon. 
'Tis by a young shepherd,  
Who not long since arrived from a strange Country.  Ly. 
'Tis true, his habit's different from ours.  Ansel. 
To live amongst us he assumed another,  
He's here.   

SCENE V.  Mon. 
You then desire, gentle shepherd,  ( To Clarimond) 
Henceforth to dwell with us, in these fair plains?  
Your change of Habit makes me so presume.  Clar. 
I'm come for cure of my consuming flames.  Angel. 
Shepherd, I then perceive you are in love.  Clar. 
Ah— 'tis too true, I languish night and day;  
But say( I pray) before I tell my story,  
Do I not talk with the Nymph Angelica?  Angel. 
Yes, if on her depends your Remedy,  
She's ready here to give you all assistance.  Clar. 
Great Drudge! famed for thy miraculous art,  
I here attend thy Oracles effects!  
Love make thee now propitious to my fires!—  Angel. 
What charming object forced from you that sigh?  Clar. 
Alas! that I dare not presume to tell you  Angel. 
Shepherd, you may, nor fear to hurt,  
All here partake already of your grief.  Clar. 
I adore her in Idea though unknown.  Ly. 
Not know her?  Clar. 
Hear the story of my life,  
My name is Philiris, in Arcadia born.  Ly. 
That Country always fruitful was in shepherds;  
But to hear't better, let us all sit round,  
It is the pastoral Order.  Angel. 
Take your place.—  
Here's green Turf.—  ( They all sit down, Lysis lying at Charita's feet.) Ly. 
Oh my dear Sun— for Heaven's sake,  
Moderate thy rays, or thou wilt quite consume me.  Angel. 
Come now( Sir) all are silent, you may speak.  Clar. 
Know them great Nymph, and you fair shepherdess,  
You gentle shepherds— such are my misfortunes—  
In that blessed Climate where I first took birth,  
Pan is less feared than is the God of Love:  
For that no Hearts, no shepherds are so great,  
Whom that fierce tyrant doth not make his Slave:  
( And would to the just Heavens that I could dobut  
Whether his yoke be easy to be born)  
But yet admire by what strange prodigy  
My freedom's subject to his cruel laws;  
Sitting one day beneath a shady elm,  
Free from all care, although I kept my Flock,  
Surprised with sleep, congested beams of light,  
Deprived my senses of their wont vigour,  
And then discovered to my blinded eyes,  
A precious treasure of unheard-of charms:  
A shepherdess, in whom the Graces seemed  
To choose their places, as if there enthroned  
A lovely Arrogance, a noble State  
Seemed sweetness there to join with Majesty  
Ne'er did the Gods in a more noble frame,  
See forth the Image of their deity:  
Oh— Nymph— I saw her, judge then how I loved her,  
How with those sudden flames my heart was fired;  
And what strength the surprisal of my sense  
Could leave me, to resist her charms assaults!  
But sad Catastrophe! when day was ended,  
I found my Error so, but not my Love.  
My soul possessed of so great rarities,  
When I awaked still kept their strong Idea,  
But so confusedly, that I never could  
Retrieve the Object, where those Beauties shined,  
Yet still I loved that imperfect Idea.  
Here did my freedom find its overthrow,  
And from that instant I am so in love,  
That I have no esteem for other objects.  
Thus forced to love, and without hope of comfort,  
I am constrained to burn, and yet be silent.  
But though this sad constraint augments my pain,  
I must detect the secrets of my heart:  
A famous Drudge, that when he is private,  
Seems daily to interpret Destiny:  
Was th' Oracle Divine, that by these words,  
First gave my wavering spirit some repose.  
Rejoice sad shepherd, the Decree  
Of Fate, shall soon accomplished be  
Within the Realm of lilies, near  
The Banks of Marne, a Nymph thou there  
Shalt find, Angelica by name,  
Discover unto her thy flame,  
Open unto her thy Heart,  
The strange original impart  
Of this thy fire, then to thine eyes  
The light of a new Day shall rise,  
That soon the sacred Beauty shall discover,  
Whose Image in thy Dream made thee a Lover.  ( He riseth, and as it were suddenly surprised with a new light, continues his address to Charita.) 
But Gods! What see I now? What rays of light,  
That in an instant thus unseele mine eyes?  
Oh shepherdess, 'tis you that thus have charmed me,  
Your wonderful Idea 'twas thus inflamed me:  
You are the lovely object of my sighs,  
You who—  Ly. 
Soft, shepherd, you are pleased to say so,  
Go to Arcadia there to act your Trances:  
Charita is my Mistress.  Clar. 
And mine too.  Char. 
This heat is very quick.  Clar. 
Yet 'tis extreme.—  Ly. 
Pity thyself, for Heaven's sake honest shepherd,  
If I'm thy rival, what hopes left for thee?  Cla. 
Some promise to themselves more than they get.  Ly. 
My flame as the more ancient shall pervaile.  Clar. 
That which I feel is full as great as thine:  
'tis more than three years since my heart was wounded.  Angel. 
Gods how this wonder does amaze my thoughts!  
What says Lucida?  Lucid. 
The shepherd does deserve  
For all these services Charita's love,  
And to possess her heart.  Ly. 
What you plead for him?  
Ah— Nymph, I die, at least am very near it—  Clar. 
To lose no time in frivolous disputes,  
Let's see what deeds will answer all these words,  
My passion prompts me to a glorious project;  
Charita is the object of our Loves,  
And both of us sigh equally for her;  
And since the cause of our dispute's so fair,  
Let Combat here decide it in her sight,  
And show which of us doth deserve her best,  
She shall be judge.  Ly. 
Agreed, it shall be so.  
Renounce her for a few dry bangs o'th' Crook?  — aside. Char. 
You will be Conqueror.  ( To Lys.) Ly. 
I do not doubt it,  
If thy fair eye stand second to mine arm:  
Pan give the victory to my boundless love,  
And I will hang his Crook between thy Horns!  
Shepherd prepare thyself—  ( As he puts himself into a posture to fight with his Crook; Clar. draws out a Sword hid within his Crook.) 
But what means this.  
A sword? Art mad thus to defend thyself?  Clar. 
T'enjoy Charita you must take my life:  
Think of death only.  Lie, 
I have no such thought.  
I'm a shepherd of Honour, and no murderer:  
Besides, though I were ne'er so stout in fight,  
What can my shepherd arm against a sword?  Ans. 
Courage brave shepherd, I will make 'em equal,  ( Taking likewise a Sword out of his Crook presents it Lys.) 
Too happy to oblige the best of Lovers.  Ly. 
Oh Villain shepherds with their iron tools!  ( aside. Ansel. 
Here take this sword.  Ly. 
Not I.  Mon. 
Desperate Lysis,  
Refuse a combat for Charita's sake!  
Why all the world must know this cowardice!  Ly. 
And why? drop reg've heart enough to serve my turn:  
But—  Mon. 
But what?  Ly. 
What need ye press me farther?  
I'll not infringe our customs for a world.  Ansel. 
What custom is't you mean?  Ly. 
Where can you show me,  
That ever any shepherds fought with Swords?  Mon. 
Yes, once Filander for Diana fought.  Ly. 
True, to secure her from profane assaults;  
But yet he fought with Slings, and to his cost.  Angel. 
W'ave said too mun t'excite this shepherds valour;  
His want of love appears to fair Charita,  
For his refusal gives her up, and quits her.  
Brave stranger, come the victory is yours.  Clar. 
How much that sweet Decree makes me your debtor▪  Angel. 
And thou ingrateful shepherd that dost fear  
To shed one drop of thy ignoble blood,  
And durst not hazard for thy Love that little  
Was wanting, to o'ercome and to possess her:  
Go, it's apparent now thou wert a traitor;  
Dare not to come hereafter in our sight.  
Shepherds let's go.  Ly. 
Ah cruel-hearted Nymph!  
Than Myrmidon, or Dollope more fell.  Char. 
Farewell sad shepherd.  Ly. 
Ah what dost thou say?  Char. 
The sentence being past we must subscribe.  Ly. 
Dost thou forsake me then?  Char. 
I'm in despair;  
Yet may the Gods permit us meet again:  
In th'mean time die not, but live still assured,  
Thou ne'er shalt see thy rival in thy place.  Ly. 
Flatter my woes at least by sighing for me.  Char. 
I grieve for both of us— but no more sighs;—  
My heart is so locked up I cannot do it.  Ly. 
Oh of all fair Ones the most unrelenting!  Char. 
Perhaps you suffer least in this our parting:  
Farewell— Pan comfort and dwell ever with thee.  Ex.  

SCENE VI.  Lys. 
Let's yield to Fate and satisfy her rage,  
And end our days within some savage den:  
Farewell ye dearest places, and my flocks,  
Which feeding I have left on yonder hill,  
Y' ennameled meadows, which too apt to please,  
Have furnished me with flowers t' adorn my Love:  
And pleasant streams farewell, despairing Lysis  
I'th' horror of these Woods will ever dwell.  
Good Gods! how thick, how dark it is! I think  
No shepherd ere its silence did disturb:  
Hence all profane— take heed you come not near;  
I fear to touch them as I cross these bushes—  
Oh— they're the rustling leaves— I think I see  
A man that walks there with a staff in's hand,  
And murmuring to himself, does seem to read.  ( He perceives Hircan walking( after the Country-fashion) with a Cane in his hand, reading.) Lys. 
Doubtless it is a druid skilled in magic—  
I must accost him.   

SCENE VII.  Hyrcan. Lys. Lys. 
Great and learned druid,  
If that divinity, that here presides,  
Did ever comfort an unhappy shepherd,  
Vouchsafe thine aid to offer him my vows.  Hircan. 
This certain's that Fool with's Pastoral life,  ( aside.) 
Whose pleasant madness is so much discoursed.  
Mayest thou be so content as thy offered vows  
Ought to be heard, by those great Gods I serve,  
Haesus and Taramis are to shepherds kind.  Lys. 
I 'mbrace the happy auspicies to see you,  
And for so rich a blessing thank my fate:  
Deign then to cast your eyes on a poor Lover,  
All's possible to you, move but your staff,  
And nature straight is subject to your laws.  Hircan. 
He takes me for a conjurer. I'll comply  
With his mistake— shepherd all shall be well;  
Thy griefs shall be redressed what ere they be,  ( makes a circle with his Cane) 
All things give way to this mysterious charm,  
Ask, and be sure I can do any thing.  Ly. 
No Sheepherd's so unfortunate as I,  
By th' fatal sentence of a cruel power,  
I'm banished from the house of Angelica;  
So lose Charita, and must never dare  
Henceforth, so much as to approach those walls.  Hircan. 
And is't this banishment that so afflicts thee?  Ly. 
Was ever Lover more severely punished!  
Ay, in despair of aid, entered these Woods,  
Against me to provoke the bears and tigers.  
But if by magic skill, you shall vouchsafe  
To let me see my Love at Angelica's,  
By rendering me invisible or transformed.—  Hircan. 
This is the easiest secret of my Art:  
All w'ave too do is to disguise your sex,  
To cheat the Nymph, and see your shepherdess  
Take woman's habit, and go thither weeping,  
Require them to relieve your great misfortunes,  
Fain that the fatal influence of your stars.—  Lys. 
This Metamorphosis is very pastoral:  
So once Austraea did embrace Alcais,  
Not knowing that 'twas Celadon disguised.  
But to appear a Maid indeed, how shall I  
Be rid of this excrescence of my beard?  
How shall I this correct?  Hircan 
That's a slight Scruple;  
Oh— let thy beard alone, fear nothing, I  
Can by my Art give thee the countenance  
Of a young shepherdess, extremely fair.  
Thy main so modest, and thy port so taking!  
Charita scarce can be a minute from thee.  
Then judge thy happiness, she's sure thine own.  Lys. 
What privilege shall I have thus disguised?  
I am impatient till it be accomplished.  Hircan. 
Let's to my Palace to begin the work.   
The end of the second Act.   


Actus tertius. Scaena prima.  Enter Angelica. Hircan. Angel. 
I See at length that Lysis company  
Hath power to draw you from your solitude,  
Allowing us excuse for our disguises,  
While you partake of our divertisement.  Hircan. 
I must confess his folly is so pleasant,  
It much exceeds all that is spoken of him:  
For my part I much wondered when I saw  
My Sister was a shepherdess for him,  
And certain pastimes which she then pursued,  
Scarce could I yield to such a low design.  
But things unknown with injury are censured:  
And Lysi▪ humour is so pleasing to me,  
That were not by's error pre-engaged,  
I could resolve to take the Crook up too;  
But yet I hope to make you all confess,  
There is some pleasure in a Druyd's part.  Angel. 
You only study then to come off well;  
In Comedies variety is pleasant,  
And I am confident this will be so.  
Some shepherds, I a Nymph, you Conjurer.—  Hircan. 
But yet 'tis! have made the best adventure.  Angel. 
Yes doubtless, it will be an excellent Scene,  
When to appear a Maid he I thanked enough,  
To imitate the Gestures, and the Habit.  Hircan. 
Yet I did nothing, but with Ceremony,  
I prayed to Tharamis, invoked his Genius,  
Then casting round my eyes to every place,  
Thrice to the East I fixed my countenance,  
And thus with a grim look without aught else,  
Removed all obstacles to Transmutation.  
The shepherd is disguised without suspicion,  
And th' better to assist me to delude him;  
The Metamorphosis was finished, as  
Montenor with my Sister did arrive,  
Who instantly perceiving my design,  
So well reserved their countenance, they treat  
Him for a Maid without the last suspicion:  
And thus out enterprise succeeded rarely.  Angel. 
Faith you provide us very excellent sport.  Hircon. 
Iled ravish not, at least, 'twill make ye laugh;  
But now to personate the shepherdess,  
Fair Nymph, you know what 'tis we have to do.  Angel. 
Yes, I know well of what me must accuse him:  Hir. 
Sure he'll be very desperate in's defence,  
When I to aid him shall employ my engine,  
The Hall is most convenient for the purpose;  
〈◊〉 troubles, represented here,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 pretty lights to my invention.   

SCENE II.  Enter to them Clarimond, Charita. Angel. 
I thought I'd lost ye, and was much perplexed.  Clar. 
We took the air upon the Fountain's side,  
While you and Hircan have resolved how  
Extravagant Lysis must be entertained.  Angel. 
And did the breath of Zephyrus delight ye?  Clar. 
My shepherdess did make it pleasant to me.  Angel. 
Your cares are constant.  Char. 
D'ye wonder at it?  
Did ever any see me, and forsake me?  Angel. 
Clarimond gives good evidence of that.  Char. 
To whom more justly could he render homage?  
I dare engage with less baits heretofore,  
Fauns were from Woods by shepherdesses drawn.  
I have a quick, sweet look—  Angel. 
And a vain humour.  Char. 
Not without reason, I come from the fountain,  
Whose moving crystal since I have consulted,  
A little vanity may be allowed me.  Angel. 
Sure it flattered  Char. 
Not so much as you think,  
But guess whom I am like in our Romances:  
What's rare, there by a pastoral pencil drawn,  
Is all but Copy I'm th' original,  
In this disguise I'm nothing but is lovely,  
I surpass Philis, if not equal Astrea.  Angel. 
You highly prize yourself in my opinion.  Hircan. 
Charita is too fair to speak otherwise,  
The best of Beauties may commend itself.  Char. 
So wise a druid; Who would not believe?  Clar. 
I credit but my heart in this great Truth,  
But as y'ave no defects, so be not cruel:  
And to my perfect love vouchsafe to grant  
A favour to adorn my Crook— this shall  
Suffice—  ( He snatches at a Ribbon, and Charita stops his hand.) Angel. 
What doth this shepherd from Arcadia?  
Expressly come to honour you in Brie,  
And you refuse him that? you're strangely cruel.  Char. 
Can he complain? I give when he demands.  ( giving him a knock.) Clar. 
Willingly?  Char. 
Yes, frankly Philiris, without disguise,  
Provided Clarimond have no share in it.  Clar. 
Why that Reserve so contrary to my vows?  
Explain yourself for Love-sake.—  Char. 
It needs not.  Clar. 
But in fine—  Char. 
No more, here's Montenor.   

SCENE III.  Enter to them Montenor. Hircan. 
Well gentle shepherd.  Mon. 
Sister do you think  ( To Angelic.) Lysis 
the shepherdess is come to see you?  Lucida 
brings her— and you fair Charita—  
I pray prepare yourself to entertain her.  Char. 
Be confident I will do what I can;  
He is confirmed then of his Transformation.  Mon. 
He relies wholly upon Hircan's skill  Angel. 
We then shall see th' effects: Where left ye him?  Mon. 
Some thirty paces hence I came before.  Hircan. 
I'll go then and prepare what's to be done.  
It's very necessary I withdraw,  
Lest if he find me here, he should suspect  
My art, that hitherto has hit so well.  
I must appear like a Magician here.  Ex. Angel. 
That you may then avoid him, go this way,  
I hear Lucida's tongue, th' are in the court.  
What do you owe to this excess of Love?  ( To Charita.) Char. 
In Pastorals I shall be very famous.  Mon. 
Anselm knows nothing of this Raillery.  Angel. 
He'll be surprised then with the more delight.  
Let's here our shepherdess's compliment.  
See, there she is.—   

SCENE IV.  Enter to them Lucid. and Lysis like a shepherdess. Char. 
A very comely person!  Angel. 
Fie laugh no more, in faith you'll spoil the Scene:  
All contain yourselves.  Lucid. 
Fair Nymph to whom the Gods  ( To Angel.) 
The most mysterious Secrets do impart;  
In this unhappy Maid you see the signs  
Of griefs, which they have destined you to heal.  
Thus saith great Hircan; and I took the care,  
( Following his order) to conduct her hither.  Ang. 
She is most welcome from so great a druid.  ( embracing Lysis.) Ly. 
You much oblige a distressed shepherdess,  ( imitating the voice and gesture of a maid.) 
Who will conclude her cruel fate most mild,  
If she may have that blessing to be with you;  
And that is all she begs.  Char. 
Grant her desire;  
To live among us Nymph she is prepared,  
If you love our content refuse her not,  
Most taking person!  Angel. 
She has excellent features  Char. 
What you say nothing?  ( To Clarimond.) Clar. 
I know what I think:  
My debt to you imposed this silence on me.  Char. 
No, Philiris may even do what he please,  
And yet he must be just to this rare beauty,  
That excellently fair, deserves his homage,  
See what quick beams are scattered from her face,  
What eyes more fair ere captivated hearts?  Lys. 
Fair shepherdess, pray spare my modesty,  
You'll else soon raise Vermilion on my cheeks.  Angel. 
So fair and perfect, all must needs commend you.  Lys. 
Far short of meriting such Eulogies.  ( Pointing at Char.) 
I'm but a Star compared to that bright Sun.  Lucid. 
Perhaps you would boast more of your perfections,  
Did you spend fewer tears in their possession.  Angel. 
And what sad object can provoke her tears?  Ly. 
To understand it Nymph, hear my misfortunes.  
If the injurious star that ruled my birth,  
Had always had for me kind influence,  
I had appeared here in as high condition,  
As splendour of illustrions' blood allows.  
For I was born a damsel( thanks to Heaven)  
As you now see me reasonably fair,  
And such, that truly from my youngest years,  
I won the hearts of many thousand servants.  
( Sad memory, which only serves t'afflict me!)  
I was styled everywhere fair Celimena,  
And by that famous name did sweetly ravish,  
Eclipsing many beauties that then shined;  
But cruel Atropos killing my Father, I  
Was soon constrained to be a shepherdess:  
I needs must yield to force, and then assumed  
To please my Tyrants, the name of Amarillis,  
poor Amarillis, whom miseries in troops,  
Pardon my sighs that intercept my voice.  
I can no farther go.—  Char. 
A pretty story.  Lucid. 
She and my Brother have agreed to this.  ( to Charit.) Ly. 
But— this my form, to me alone unhappy,  
Unchanged beheld the sad change of my fortune,  
So far from leaving me in this new habit,  
That 'tis fame filled all our villages,  
All praised to envy, the new shepherdess:  
Every one strove to see me, and to please me.  
Happy till now— but on— this high report  
I wited three foul Satyrs from the Woods,  
The infamies of whose lascivious loves  
Were echoed every day through all our streams,  
And these, to violate my chastity,  
Dogged me in every place to ravish me;  
And as last night I to the Fountain went,  
Without the shepherd Filene, in their snares  
They caught me— This hath cast me at your feet,  
These foul Goat-footed Fiends, the Nymphs obey:  
Purge then from that base race o'er sacred Groves;  
Their whole employment is dishonourable.  
All that they does injurious and immodest.  
Preserve the same of my Virginity:  
Once, twice, and thrice on this I do depend:  
Purge me from Satyrs, and I shall be spotless.  Angel. 
Your fate is cruel— but yet cease to grieve,  
You here have met with a safe Sanctuary:  
The highest insolence, within this palace  
Dares not attempt your chastity; live here,  
From trouble free, Charita shall take care  
Of those diversions are needful for you,  
Will you accept of her good company?  Ly. 
Her affability speaks so high for her,  
That instead of refusing I will strive  
To follow her, as shadows do their bodies,  
And night and day, if I'm so blessed, to please her.  Char. 
D'ye doubt it, fair and virtuous shepherdess?  
How all my senses are transported! thus  
To be possessed of Amaryllis heart!  
This glorious model of supremest Beauty!  
This star!—  Ly. 
Reserve these titles for yourself;  
If any thing in me seems radiant here,  
'Tis by reflection of your eyes, fair Sun!  Clar. 
If you talk more, by these your kindnesses,  ( to Lysis.) 
You'll rob me of my Mistress heart, I fear:  
Come 'tis enough.  Char. 
Indeed you may be jealous,  
Having gained Amaryllis I scorn you.  Clar. 
By this you may oblige me to change too.  Char. 
T' enjoy an Angel, I shall lose a mortal.  Clar. 
Is then my service of so little value?  Angel. 
Let us end this discourse. Here's Polidore.   

SCENE V.  Enter to them Anselm. 
We complained shepherd of your too long absence.  Ansel. 
In that I'm honoured, and if I dispense—  
But O ye Gods!  Angel. 
What shepherd, you're surprised?  
What is't that troubles you so suddenly?  Ansel. 
A sudden brightness having struck my sight,  
My senses all are charmed, my soul disturbed!  
What shepherdess is that?  Mon. 
Do ye not know  
The late felicities prepared for us?  
And that fair Amaryllis hath made choice  
Of these our coasts, t'embrace the care of flocks?  Ans. 
Most glorious coasts! oh spend here all your days;  ( to Ly.) 
The Spring to please you here shall ever reign,  
Many new Flowers in the plains shall rise.  Ly. 
Excuse me, for I talk to my Companion;  
Having heard nothing, I shall answer nothing.  Ang. 
In fine, pray let's know wherefore we lost you,  ( to Ans.) 
What business made you disappear so long?  Ansel. 
I was extremely troubled for poor Lysis,  
Lest after your Decree fatal despair  
Might make his Rival happy in his death;  
So to prevent his violence on himself,  
I ran through all the Woods with extreme care,  
But can learn nothing of him, and I fear  
The streams of Marne have finished his fate.  Char. 
So after less injustice Celadon  
Sought in the floods of Lignon a Precipice;  
Doubtless he's dead— oh this guilty beauty!  Angel. 
But you're too quick thus to conclude him dead.  Char. 
A secret horror which doth seize my mind  
Of this sad accident's a sure presage  
To me, that he is drowned— oh envious fates!  Angel. 
The goodness of the Gods could not permit it.  Ly. 
He'll be their care, believe it shepherdess;  
He hath found necessary aid, I'll warrant,  
Some Nymph or other will restore him to you.  Char. 
Alas, my dear Companion, drop reg've lost all,  
He doubtless did deserve a better end,  
For of all shepherds he was the most faithful.  Lys. 
His name was brought even to our Villages,  
Where all extolled him for's fidelity.  Char. 
Dear Amaryllis, had you known him, he  
Was the most perfect shepherd heaven e'er saw,  
His extreme mildness, grace, and his demeanour,  
Would have constrained you to have wished him well,  
He gained all hearts!  Clar. 
For Love sake be contented.  
You lose a Lover, and I fill his place,  
The homage which I pay to your divine.—  Char. 
Away vile shepherd speak no more to me;  
Thy journey from Arcadia caused my grief,  
Destroyed my quiet and my shepherds life,  
Into these floods that drown my happiness:  
Thou, and thy love did me precipitate.  ( weeps.) Clar. 
Moderate thy passion.  Char. 
Dost thou desire it? Then  
Remove thy presence from my just displeasure.  Clar. 
Ever so full of rigour?  Char. 
'Tis resolved.  Clar. 
Thus to endure unjust disdains too much.  
Ingrateful shepherdess, respect till now,  
Made me suppress my flame, now it must break forth,  
And I affirm, to brave your fury, that  
My heart and eyes are sensible as yours.  ( turns to Lysis.) 
Fair Amaryllis, the mildness of your charms,  
Force me with pleasure thus to yield myself,  
I break your former chains t'obey your laws:  
What, you look down? Give me at least an answer;  
Allow some hope unto my amorous soul.  Ly. 
Maids are ashamed to hear discourse of love,  
Approve my silence, or else change your Theme.  Clar. 
Oh wonder! Beauty fatal to my rest,  
How from those rosy lips one kiss obtained,  
Would ease the Wounds which that fair eye hath given me!  Ly. 
Keep your designs in bounds of honesty:  
You injure much my modesty, I ought  
To keep myself as chaste as is Diana.  Clar. 
One kiss is lawful; What power interdicts it?  Ly. 
I and Charita mutually may kiss,  
Without the censure of incontinence,  
This sign of love to us is lawful, but  
To kiss a shepherd who doth authorise it?  Ly. 
Yet having none but chaste designs for you,  ( offering to kiss his hand.) 
I sure may swear it upon these fair hands.  Ly. 
Away profane, thy fault's without compare,  
You may as well a Vestal touch as me.  Angel. 
You lose respect Sir.—  ( to Clarimond.) Clar. 
I confess I do.  
But who knows what he does, that dies for love?  Angel. 
You ought— but Gods! how is my soul confounded?  
Mine eyes deluded, or I see a satire.   

SCENE VI.  Enter( to them) three of Montenors' Servants, disguised like Satyrs. Sat. 
Be not amazed, fair Nymphs, that we do now,  
To haunt your Palaces, forsake our Woods,  
Friends of Tautates, and demigods of Nature.  
We soon perceived that we were injured,  
And hither we are come with just displeasure,  
To demand justice for yourselves and us.  Angel. 
Against whosoe'er it be you shall receive it:  Sat. 
From Amaryllis snares we would secure you.  Ly. 
My snares? what's that you filthy ugly lecher?  Angel. 
Pray, without injury, let's hear him out.  Sat. 
The false report of that perfidious soul  
Made you believe that she is chaste, as fair▪  
And that that glorious Lamp, which gives us light,  
If he shine brighter, yet he is less pure;  
But we must tell you, her incontinence,  
With great God Pan, till now hath past in silence,  
And our respect made us endure it, as loath  
To speak of it, at all, to her dishonour;  
But since with too much vice displeasing him,  
She with the God Sylvanus was surprised,  
And with a Faun too in Adultery,  
She hath armed your indignation against us,  
Deceiving you by a base Artifice:  
We therefore hither came to beg your justice.  Angel. 
Then answer shepherdess.  ( to Lysis) Ly. 
My heart even bleeds:  
How have I sinned? What fault have I committed?  
This plot is laid by envy against my virtue:  
Thus Phoedra ruined chaste Hippolytus.  Angel. 
Guilty or not, since they accuse you, we  
Must purge you from suspicion for our honour.  Ly. 
Oh Christian Chastity, clear Innocence!  
With this attempt, alas, they vow my ruin.  Sat. 
Such crimes as this were never disavowed,  
But instantly they offered proofs by fire.  
You Nymph do understand our Country's laws,  
And to what end the sacred Plate's ordained:  
Then let her touch it burning, we shall see  
If that chaste and pure fire will spare her body.  Char. 
What sayst Barbarian?  Clar. 
Dear soul of my soul!  
Expose thee Amaryllis to the fire?  Ly. 
Leave me to dissipate their wild suspicions;  
Thus chaste, I safe can walk on burning▪ coals.  Angel. 
This ancient custom, although rigorous,  
Was never yet injurious to th' oppressed;  
If wrongfully accused, the fire will clear you.  Clar. 
Why should I reverence this unjust law?  
No, Amaryllis falsely thus accused,  
Shall ne'er be subject to it, I'll first die:  
Let's see who dares accuse her?  Angel. 
How bold shepherd!  
Will you provoke the anger of the Gods?  Clar. 
In this condition I fear not their anger:  
My Gods, are my fair shepherdess, and Love,  
And rather than lose her, they may oblige me.—  An. 
Take hence this insolent shepherd from my sight;  
Satyrs away with him.  ( While the Satyrs remove Clarim. Thunder and Lightning is heard.) Ly. 
Heavens! Earth revenge!  
Th' oppress him that defendeth innocence.  
Unhappy maid! they envy that thou livest.  
Aid me, sage Hircan, wisest Hircan aid!  Angel. 
Strange Lightning!  Char. 
Where shall be my Sanctuary?  Ly. 
I cannot stir I am so full of fear.  ( All fly, and Hircan appears in the air in a flying chair.)  

SCENE VII.  Enter Hircan, Lysis. Hir. 
Thus by me Horror through these places flies,  ( in's Chair.) 
And I those dangers break to which fates throw  
Thee Amaryllis, raise thine eyes,  
And th' Author of thy Transmutation know;  
Since every day they threaten thee,  
I in my flying chair come to thine aid;  
Behold! how thy Foes insolence is stayed,  
And see how my approach they flee,  
And how the fears of death do make  
Their vanquished fury all its force forsake!  Ly. 
Vouchsafe, illustrious and learned Judge,  
To free me from a trial forced upon me.  Hircan. 
I know't but little could their force prevail,  
For thou art chaste, and hast o'ercome the fire.  Ly. 
Yes, I as Amaryllis, had prevailed;  
But having once consulted with my soul,  
I feared your charms enfeebled by the fire,  
I should be Lysis more than Amaryllis.  Hircan. 
Fear not; I come through midst of clouds, and crossed  ( descending upon the Stage.) 
An hundred unknown paths in this my chair.  Ly. 
Is the way safe?  Hircan. 
Yes— but it will be best  
That for prevention you blind your eyes.  Ly. 
I willingly obey the wisest druid,  ( mounting the Chair.) 
Whose will commands o'er the decrees of Fate.  ( ascends.) Hir. 
'Tis time to part, up and take courage, know  
No dangers dare affront thee where I go:  
The end of the third Act.    


Actus quartus. Scaena prima.  Enter Hircan, Anselm. Hircan. 
HIs eyes betray the secrets of his soul,  
Th' have more than once informed me of his flame,  
And drop reg've too well observed Lucida's lsforgetove  
Alone engaged him to become a shepherd,  
So that from the first moment that I knew it,  
I fed his fires in suffering them to rise;  
And I can now no more, without injustice,  
Forget a secret promised consent,  
Montenor's worthy, but, for all his merit,  
Th' interest of my Sister more weighs with me;  
I am her Brother, and she must remember,  
That though she give herself, he cannot have her.  Ansel. 
Think not that his extreme affection  
Would employ any but himself to gain her;  
And in that conquest he presumed his strong  
Endeavours should prevail 'bove human Empire:  
But do he what he can, a brother's needful  
To force that duty so resolved in silence,  
And which, though you consent not, will not suffer  
A sigh escape, that may detect his secret.  Hircan. 
If this sole obstacle thwart his desires,  
He ought to praise th' effect of a fair cause:  
But I'll take order strait to stop its progress.  Ansel. 
For mine own interest, I presume to press you,  
For( if I must explain myself) I saw  
Less in myself, than in fair Angelica;  
I adore her, and her brother aids my vows,  
But yet to crown them he must first be happy:  
That's passion finding kind effects, may let him▪  
See, without Envy, my Felicity.  Hircan. 
he'll see it doubtless, and's contented mind  
Shall have that fair success your love attends:  
But now 'tis time our pastoral Sports give way  
To pleasures of a nobler quality.  
Lysis too much is fooled, and w'ave too long  
Cherished an error which ere this had ended.  Ansel. 
Your Art's incapable of such a cure.  Hircan. 
Yet 'tis by that I make him tractable:  
In our last Scene he so relied upon me,  
That in a flying Chair I sent him home.  Ansel. 
Yet more of Amaryllis?  Hircan. 
Somewhat of mystery  
Made up the charm and spoilt the shepherdess:  
Then with a secret Spell's unerring power,  
I was to force the Nymph to entertain him.  
You know the entertainment, what address  
He made to's Mistress in that interview,  
Which moved her on the fiction of his death  
To speak, and countenance his airy Fables.  Ansel. 
He's very full of them.  Hircan. 
Th' are all his study:—  
But as I long to be alone again,  
Charita, who I see's arrived i'th' Park,  
Is a fair obstacle to one would muse,  
I therefore must avoid her— fare ye well.  Ex. Ansel. 
'Tis a dark solitory humour, this.   

SCENE II.  Enter( to him) Charita, Lucida. Ansel. 
What, without Lysis beauteous shepherdess?  Char. 
The Nymph i'th' Hall at leisure entertains him,  
Where Maugre all his love respect retains him:  
But why doth Hircan shun us with such cares?  Ansel. 
Faith he's injurious to Charita's beauty.  Char. 
But I'll be satisfied since't has no witness.  Lucid. 
'Tis solitude that busies all his care,  
And any pastime that's without himself,  
Is a great torment to his musing mind.  Ansel. 
You will not find it in that kind consent,  ( to Lucid.) 
Which he gives freely to an happy Lover.  
Montenor.—  Lucid. 
Sister pray admire with me,  ( to Charita.) 
That Plain, which gives us here so sweet a prospect.  Char. 
But— Sister there is mystery in this language.  
Does your mind wander with your eyes or no?  
What, you blush?  Lucid. 
Pish away.  Char. 
Well, I pardon  
The so secret disorder of your heart:  
I fine.—  ( to Anselm.) Lucid. 
You credit then this Barber's talk?  Ansel. 
No, no, give no belief to what I say.  
Farewell, I'll seek one that in this affair,  
Shall have more rhetoric to persuade you: I  
At least am sure, upon such pleasing terms,  
Montenor rather will hear me than you.  Exit.  

SCENE III.  Manent Charita, Lucida. Char. 
But Sister, is he gone without more words?  Lucid. 
I endure all from you who only seek  
To laugh.—  Char. 
Indeed— but let us speak in earnest;  
Let's call him back again t' explain himself.  Lucid. 
Wherefore should I desire his explanation?  Char. 
Oh the sad virtue that now stings thy mind!  
Doth Montenor, in all his service to you,  
Show mean effects of an indifferent zeal?  Lucid. 
If I believe his sighs, I reign in's soul.  Char. 
Doubtless you are ingrateful to his flame.  Lucid. 
And wherefore should his hopes by me be flattered?  
Can he be ignorant of what's my desires?  
If he hath gained my Brother, what needs more?  Char. 
Indeed this modest answer fits our times;  
It's worthy you, and I myself esteem it:  
But 'mong ourselves let's lay by all disguise;  
Confess with me our minds are easily  
Led thither, whither we desire to go,  
And that they need not struggle for obedience,  
When as our Duty, and our Love agree.  
But when that Love, which does command in chief,  
Finds in that Duty that which would depress it,  
It quickly cures us of that ancient error,  
Which would debar us to dispose our hearts.  
No, no, if Montenor could not have pleased you,  
Ye would not in that choice believe a brother:  
Your flames would find a very weak support,  
If they were fed but by another's order  Lucid. 
You do assault me with such cunning, that  
At length you force me to confess my weakness.  
I love him, and my heart before possessed,  
With love's perplexed.  Char. 
Is the great secret out?  
And why should love in this our age, in us  
Be weakness, and a virtue in the men?  
Why should we blush at our so faultless flames?  
Do we want eyes to see, or hearts to love?  
I know that ancient modesty required,  
We should seem shy even at the name of Love.  
And if a servant do pretend to court us,  
We must cry out before we hear him speak:  
But though w'impose a silence on these sweets,  
We nothing less seek than obedience;  
And any servant would court us but ill,  
Who to talk gazettes should suppress his love.  
Those kind refusals to hear no such language,  
Are but fair invitations to say more.  
In fine, we all desire that they should love us,  
And often run by secret plots to meet them.  Lucid. 
Gods! you know all.  Char. 
More, happily, than you,  
But your desires contented make less show:  
Yet since that love is ready now to fix you,  
I'll gather flowers to compose your Garland.  Lucid. 
If Love oblige you to compose a Garland,  
He'll give it by your hands to Clarimond,  
And see how full of joy he comes to take it.  Char. 
And yet in love Lucida must know nothing.  Lucid. 
No, I know nothing but the common rule,  ( going out.) 
That to two Lovers any three's a trouble.  Exit.  

SCENE IV.  Enter Clarimond.( Smiling as he approaches Charita.) 
'Tis she— I see her gathering heaps of Flowers  
In this ennamelled Park, of divers colours.  Char. 
Th'approach is pastoral, but my new Filene  
drop reg've right to answer as your cruel Sylvia.  
Take heed.—  Clar. 
How carelessly you hear these lines,  
Without a thought of him that lent 'em me:  
He was unhappy, but I hope I shall  
Once touch the heart of my fair shepherdess.  Char. 
'Tis not of stone, and your continual cares  
Deserve esteem, perhaps a little more:  
But whither can the flames that rule us go?  
Sometimes we wish a Lover would deign it,  
That he may force our hearts, and that his fires  
Surprised by a look may read the secrets.—  Clar. 
Too happy Clarimond! what canst pretend?  Char. 
Let not our want of understanding make us  
Mistake, and, if your freedom answers mine,  
Let's divide Philiris from Clarimond.  Clar. 
But what proceedings yours can equalise,  
To make one happy, and reject the other?  Char. 
You easily may guess the reason; one's  
A Courtier, tother is a simple shepherd.  
For me, if I may their defence assume,  
I ever loved the freedom of the shepherds;  
Those cheating outsides of your begging sighs,  
Those so well studied, languishing aspects,  
Those affectations of a wand'ring mind,  
Are not the colours which their love appears in:  
They express themselves in a serener air,  
And when they vow they love, they love indeed,  
And in the sweet transports of guiltless flames,  
They promise nothing which the heart denies.  
And so when kindly Philiris assured me,  
That o'er his captived heart I reigned alone,  
Not fearing to be sacrificed to fraud,  
I told him that I something did believe,  
But far from a resolve to flatter him  
In his desires— If Clarimond spoke thus  
With more reserve, and more retention.  Clar. 
Oh pray, pursue not a discourse that kills me;  
And, since his freedom answers for his faith,  
Let Philiris now speak for Clarimond,  
For he will keep his passion very secret,  
If Philiris dares not to interpret it,  
Under that borrowed name which he assumes,  
He opens you his soul, and speaks his heart,  
And his pure flame, aspiring to extremes,  
When he does say he loves, he loves you truly.  Char. 
This satisfies not what I owe myself,  
To dare to credit Clarimond on his Faith,  
No, no, 'tis for his honour, he swears to me,  
That nothing's comparable to what he suffers,  
But all that I can do, mine not engaged,  
Is to endure complaint, and not believe.  Clar. 
Are you then doubtful of so true a flame?  Char. 
To wish it so, I am too just, for know  
I Clarimond do understand, at Court  
'Tis virtue quaintly to dissemble Love  
That it is gallant to declare to all,  
You are a friend to th' Brown as well as fair,  
And without giving bounds to your desires,  
Your sighs can menage as you see occasion.  Clar. 
Oh cease to injure the sincerest flame,  
That purest love ere kindled in a soul;  
Do I insensible of constant love  
On all occasions, divide my heart?  
And sigh in every place at any object?  Char. 
I know that nothing▪ s easier than to say so,  
And flatter thus our foolish vanity,  
That breeds in us too much credulity.  Clar. 
Thus to persist so long in vain alarms,  
Is to distrust the power of your Beauty,  
'Tis true, to please an hundred several objects,  
Men may dissemble wounds they never had,  
That it is easy still to say I love you.  
But you may know 'tis not the same with you,  
And 'tis impossible to see your face,  
And say I love you, and not love you truly.  Char. 
And would you have me to believe you now?  
But see our fool.  Clar. 
Base hindrance to my Joy!  Char. 
To vex him for the mischief he hath done you,  
I will abuse him with pretended sleep:  
Farewell, leave me alone, I think 'tis best  
That you and I be not surprised together.  Clar. 
But—  Char. 
Leave me I say, or I shall break with you.  ( She lies down upon the grass pretending to sleep) Clar. 
And must this fool disturb such pleasing minutes?  
But to please my Charita, I'll avoid him,  
And let her sport with his extravagance.  Exit.  

SCENE V.  Enter Lysis, Charita. Ly. 
Sweet places, where my Sun beneath your shade,  
Having scorched me, repairs to take the air,  
Though to be lightened be your great advantage,  
Yet suffer a poor shepherd to share with you.  
Hide not Charita from th' most ardent— but  
Gods! I'm deluded, or I see her sleeping.  
'Tis she— oh happiness! hush gentle Zephyrs,  
Breath without noise, my Goddess is asleep—  
I must advance, but slowly, lest I wake her.  
Trees, let your leaves be silent for a while:  
Ye Brooks stand still, and you, ye foolish Bees,  
That buzz so busily about her ears,  
Fly hence, touch not the Roses which I see;  
My fairest hath no flowers but for me.  ( Kneels by her.) 
How happy's Morpheus? O transcendent beauty,  
In the world's fairest eyes to have his Palace!  
How he tastes Nectar sweet and most delicious!  
And how his happiness thy shepherd envies!  
Oh if't were lawful— but thou insolent Fly,  
Which on that fairest Nose presumest to sit—  
I'll make thee know what 'tis—  ( beating away the fly he strikes her on the face, which she pretends wakes her.) Char. 
Gods how you use me!  
Why did you not awake me gentlier?  Ly. 
Oh!—  
Pardon an act of justice to my Flame,  
Which thought it duty so to sacrifice.  Ch. 
What have you caused me suffer by that blow?  Ly. 
Love seldom gives a wound he cannot cure.  
But though you feel some little pain by that,  
Yet might that cursed Fly have stung you— for  
You know that once Eudoxa.—  Char. 
She did well:  
But if it were her fault, it is not mine.  Ly. 
At least for pity-sake.  ( leaning towards her.) Char. 
What shepherd?—  Ly. 
Cruel.  
Thou daily dost permit the Sun to kiss thee,  
And will not suffer that this amorous heart,  
Should by thy snow seek to refesh his heat.  Char. 
The sad condition that your heart is in.  Ly. 
Thy hand of milk congealed may make the proof.  ( kissing her hand.) Char. 
Good Gods!  Ly. 
Absolve a Lover from that error;  
I know the love of shepherds should be chaste,  
But yet their souls sometimes may be transported,  
And Nature of herself is vicious.  Char. 
Oh how the impure flames I find in you,  
Constrain me to regrate my Amaryllis!  Ly. 
Amaryllis?  Char. 
Oh!  Ly. 
Did you love her?  Char. 
I love her  
More, though she's absent, than I do myself,  
That I might see her?  Ly. 
That you may easily  
Remove what hides her from thy abused eyes,  
See here thy shepherd.  Char. 
What is't you would say?  Ly. 
That Amaryllis only breathes in me,  
And my excessive love that could not be  
Prevented, made me change my sex to see thee.  Char. 
You would have changed to force the obstacles.  Ly. 
That's nothing— Love works many other wonders.  Char. 
Was it you then that in so neat a way,  
Under a woman's habit did deceive us?  
You that sage Hircan rescued from the fire?  Ly. 
'Twas I, 'twas Lysis, thou light of my soul!  
How oughtst thou then to prize such rare attempts!  Char. 
Go guilty shepherd, go approach me not;  
After an act so shameful, and so base.—  lie▪ 
Oh you would try me,—  Char. 
No do not believe it.  
I hate a shepherd, whose besotted love  
Shall dare to borrow aid from magic arts,  
Heaven shall revenge me on thy injuries;  
Fly then from hence, fly far from these our coasts;  
And thus polluted with the greatest crimes,  
Ne'er show thyself to my incensed eyes;  
'tis my last order.—  Ex. Ly. 
Lestrigonian Beauty!  
More fierce than is the Asp, or Dragon, come  
Feast, if my death can satisfy thy rage,  
Thy flesh-devouring eyes with that sweet sight.   

SCENE VI.  Enter to him Montenor. Mon. 
Wherefore doth Lysis mourn?  Ly. 
Oh shepherd, tremble,  
For all the Gods confederate against us;  
Thou ne'er shalt see the Sun to set again,  
The Woods shall be afire, the Rivers dry,  
Meadows shall lose their flowers, Echo be silent,  
In fine, all is destroyed— Charita's angry.  Mon. 
Gods!  Ly. 
Didst not see her violent transport?  
It was a tigress with her sparkling eye,  
Yet Montenor, I must confess that I  
Never did yet behold so fair a tigress,  
And that her fierceness something had of grace,  
Even when she did pronounce my banishment.  Mon. 
Ah— could she banish thee?  Ly. 
With great injustice.  Mon. 
Why dost afflict thyself? Be cross as she;  
Thou sure canst change thy vows, if she be changed.  Ly. 
No, I'll attend th' afflicted Lovers Fate,  
Whom when the Gods to such rude storms expose,  
Touched with their miseries they oft transform them.  Mon. 
That once was good:  Ly. 
And so continues still;  
For wherefore should the Arm o'th' Gods be shortened?  
No, Mercury this night came with his wand,  
To let me understand their pleasure towards me,  
And I must change my form.  Mon. 
On that great Hope,  
Thou scornest Charita, and no more wilt see her?  Ly. 
Would you that I provoke her with my presence?  
Yet I may see the place where she inhabits,  
And here, at distance, mounted on this Tree,  
With my last homage may adore her beauty.  ( He ascends the Tree, and falls into the Trunk of it, being hollow.) 
I see't! what hid that Palace from my sight—  
But O miraculous issue of my hopes!  
At length I find the Gods have not abused me—  
And Lysis now, in earnest, is transformed,  
I am become a Tree— O divine wonders!  
My feet I feel already stretched to roots,  
And my flesh changed to wood, with sudden shoots  
Produceth branches at my finger's ends.  Monten. 
Strange madness this!  Ly. 
But O thou ocular witness  
Of this my change, to Lovers Ordinary  
Go, and disperse the fame of my new fate,  
And if thou ere didst love me, guard my flock.   

SCENE VII.  Enter to them Clarimond, Adrian,( Lysis in the tree.) Clar. 
No, to reduce him fear no obstacle,  ( to Adrian 
We leave him to ye— but what pleasant sight▪  
Shepherd what dost thou there?  Ly. 
'Twas but ill judged—  
I am( I thank the Gods) no more a shepherd.  Clar. 
What then?  Ly. 
I am a Tree.  Adrian. 
Ah fool, dost still  
Persist to credit thy ridiculous dreams?  Ly. 
Adrian( I should abuse myself too much,  
To call thee Cousin) you assume a freedom—  
Such trees as I of an immortal nature!—  Adrian. 
And who made thee a Tree?  Ly. 
A rare adventure:  
But I don't wonder that profaner eyes  
Can dive into the secrets of the Gods.  Mon. 
But wilt thou dwell within that rotten Trunk?  Ly. 
Ah, my Wood's sacred, pray speak better of it.  Clar. 
I do believe it, but see, night comes on,  
Do you intend to lie in this fair Trunk?  Ly. 
How brave 'twill be to see my spacious Arms▪  
Extend, within a bed their earthly roots!  
Know that a Tree is fixed, and if sometimes  
Its Country Deity, forsake his Wood,  
'Tis but to go by night to revel with  
The demigods, and ye fair Hamadryades,  
For they by moonshine always use to meet.  Ad. 
Then thy fool-Demi-gods, thy Nymphs— and Loves.—  Ly. 
Take heed, lest to revenge their injuries,  
I throw down some one of my branches on thee.  Clar. 
Pardon his fault, at least this once— but since  
Thou needs wilt be a Tree, it must be so.  
But what's thy hope?  Ly. 
All that I hope for is  
My love at length may touch my shepherdess,  
And that about my Trunk, to recompense me,  
She with her company will come to dance,  
Then will I use for pressing speeches, sad  
Complaining murmurs of my trembling leaves,  
And to declare to her my excessive pains,  
I'll use th'assistance of a gentle groan;  
Then bidding her farewell prodigiously,  
In token of respect I'll bow my Trunk.  Adrian. 
Thou fool, if this be all the good thou lookest for,  
Think'st thou to seem a Tree?  Ly. 
Yes— for I am so.  Adrian. 
And do Trees speak?  Ly. 
Oh then, is that your wonder?  
Thou hast read nothing of Dodona's Grove;  
There( by the will o'th' Gods) the Trees did speak,  
Know that my Fate's as glorious. Ay, like them,  
A Prophet am, and my foretelling Wood,  
Shall make as great a noise as Delphian Tripos.  Adrian. 
Make trial then—  ( drawing his sword, gives two or three blows on the Trunk.) 
Thou greatest of all fools!  
Th' hast felt these blows, hadst thou been what thou sayst.  Ly. 
Villain what dost thou do? where tends thy rage?  
Never till now hath iron injured me:  
I was a Virgin— now my Trunk is open;  
Oh stop, at least, my sap, that flow's lost,  
And know what ever strength their verdure shows,  
Trees without radical moisture cannot live.  Adrian. 
'Tis tedious to hear thee— come, come out here.  Ly. 
I must obey the destiny's decrees,  
Hold sacrilegious— oh, use violence!—  
Let a poor shepherd live in that weak barque;  
What has he done to thee?  Clar. 
Do not provoke him;  ( to Adrian.) 
No violence will ere do good upon him.  
Let's grant he is a Tree, and I have thought on  
The means to hinder, that he take no root:  
I'll tell you what's my project at the Castle.  Adrian. 
Alas, he's now a greater fool than ever.  Mon. 
Farewell fair Tree.  Clar. 
Farewell, Heaven make thee grow.  Ex. Manet Lys. 
Th' are gone: now I may know myself again.  
O silver-horned Moon, if thou know'st where  
The demigods my Brothers meet this night,  
Refuse me not a Boon which I demand,  
Lend me thy rays to find them where they are,  
I am not mortal now, and in their sports,  
The Nymphs may me receive without suspicion:  
Dear Trunk, permit me leave thee, since 'tis night,  
For my first visit now is due to them.  ( He comes out of the tree.) 
Farewell, to share their pleasant sports I'll go  
Into the woods to seek their Rendezvouz.  Ex. 
The end of the fourth Act.    


Actus quintus. Scaena prima.  Enter Anselm. Angelica. Ansel. 
At length, since heaven propitious to my prayer  
Doth not oppose the vows of Montenor,  
But seems to have a care that they be crowned,  
I may give up myself to th'sweets of Hope,  
If without crime, and a too great presumption,  
A shepherd may pretend to love a Nymph.  Angel. 
'Tis very quaintly pleaded to engage Me,  
To praise the shepherd and reject the Nymph,  
But let this satisfy your pressing Heart,  
That now my brother takes your interest;  
And as love once did flatter you, so his  
Consent's sufficient to confirm your wishes.  Ansel. 
How this reply affronts a lover's will!  
And if you limit there his best advantage,  
How ill when he explained his vows he told you?  
How scrupulous love is in his designs;  
He looks with scorn on fairest victories,  
When they may cast a shadow on his glory,  
By his own merit he'd be absolute,  
He loves no Triumph by another's will,  
Nor can endure, what ever's the attempt,  
That foreign succours should secure his conquest.  Angel. 
'tis so, a Lover's never satisfied,  
He doubts his happiness when he enjoys it.  
And his unquiet flame, resolved to fear,  
In the most fair success will still complain.  Ansel. 
Oh— refuse not, to this inflamed heart,  
The sweet, to see itself entirely charmed,  
And if it move your soul, when it doth sigh,  
Deny me not the bliss to understand it;  
'Tis not enough that Montenor's content  
Assures me of like happiness with that  
Must make him perfect to fulfil my joy,  
'Tis needful you unfold your heart with me.  
That loving passions may your thoughts detect,  
That a kind qualm may answer to my sighs,  
And that by your consent my flame confirmed,  
May be the glorious prize of loving you.   

SCENE II.  Enter to them Clarimond. Adrian. Clar. 
Why surely, here the shadows of the night▪  
Have made you quite forget what we designed,  
You still go on, and never have regard,  
That happily our fool sees you far off,  
And if he know you, he will strait conjecture,  
Seeing our demigods, what's our design.  Adrian. 
Alas!— t' allow of what they do propose,  
He has too strong opinion of his change,  
And 'tis but vain to think, your feigned Deities  
Can draw him from a Tree he holds so dear.  Angel. 
Though he was tractable with Hircan, yet  
This his last act seems to exceed my faith;  
For since he speaks, yet how can he presume  
That Heaven would shut him up within a Tree?  Adrian. 
By that I strove to make him understand,  
That he is not what he believes himself:  
But, against all reason he's a Tree, his Gods  
Ought that rare Destiny to his deservings.—  
A curse on Ovid, and his Sectaries!  Clar. 
If the Moon lend us but a constant light,  
I'm of opinion you'll be satisfied,  
And vainly fear he should be long a Tree—  
He's out of's Trunk!—  ( looks into a Tree.) Adrian. 
Good Gods! I cannot believe't.  Clar. 
You well may doubt it in a darker night.  Adri. 
I thank the Gods, that of his own accord,  
H'has left a Trunk to which he was so charmed!  
And that to draw him out your Nymphs o'th'woods  
And foreign demigods are of no use;  
They far from curing him would have a fresh  
O'returned his mind, and troubled his sick brain.  Clar. 
Well, he's now out of it, but you may fear  
The rising morning may replant him there.  
You believe him too soon demetamorphozed.  Angel. 
While he is absent now the cure is easy,  
Let us cut down the Tree; I'll labour all  
I can to stop the progress of his folly,  
And I'll renounce my pastimes, that I may  
Facilitate the means of your departure.  Adrian. 
I'll haste to borrow succours to defeat him.—  Exit.  

SCENE III.  Ansel. 
Lysis at his return will play the Devil.  Angel. 
And your designs being spoiled through his departure Make—  Clar. 
I am sorry for those two young beauty,  
Who mad to play upon this simple fellow,  
Have in vain dressed themselves like Nymphs o'th' Woods:  
Troth 'tis an ill adventure for the first.  Angel. 
Which of us did foresee he'd quit his Trunk?  
But yet we want Charita, Where is she?  Clar. 
I left her with our demigods, perhaps  
She does expect the signal to advance.  Angel. 
A little absence is a pain to Lovers.  Clar. 
'tis true, I suffer, and, when far from her,  
Soon find a certain trouble in my soul;  
But yet this trouble, though't be nothing gentle,  
Is not the greatest torment I endure,  
That which afflicts, and makes me to complain,  
Is that I hope much, and see more to fear,  
That is, I have a heart inflamed with love,  
And yet I doubt whether I'm loved again.  Angel. 
You understand too well your own deserts,  
To think you have nothing gained upon Charita;  
But if you will persist thus to alarm  
Yourself in vain, know I'll assume your cause,  
Then love, and hope.  Clar. 
It is a charming promise.  Angel. 
Since Love, with me, has interest for you,  
The victory is easy.  Clar. 
will't were so.   

SCENE IV.  Enter to them Charita, Lucida. Char. 
Room for our Tree; for he is coming hither.  Angel. 
Where did you find him?  Lucid. 
In that little Grove,  
Which joining to the Park makes up the landscape—  
There hearing him to hallow.  Angel. 
But what could he do there at midnight?  Char. 
There  
Making Orations to an Oak, he laboured  
T' induce the Nymph to render herself visible:  
Our Deities that followed at a distance  
Played their parts handsomely upon occasion:  
He takes their word— but when he did propose,  
To show them where he was transformed, our care,  
To give you notice, made us come before.  Clar. 
Since the occasion's offered let's embrace it,  
Though honest Adrian has cause to curse it;  
But since we can let us make up the jest.  Char. 
Then we must hide ourselves, I hear 'em there—  Anselm. 
—  Ans. 
No, take no care of me Charita,  
Lest he should seize again upon his Trunk,  
I'll be a Tree, and act the demigod.  Clar. 
But he perceives you.—  Char. 
Oh good Gods— speak low.  Ans. 
The hole is so profound he cannot see me.  ( Anselm gets into the Tree, and the rest hide themselves.)  

SCENE V.  Enter to them Lysis, Synope, Clorise, dressed like Nymphs of the Woods, with branches of trees in their hands, at the ends whereof were fastened dry Comfits. Ly. 
At length dear Sisters( for I am persuaded  
I owe that title to all Hamadryades)  
Behold that famous Trunk, which in that place,  
By Fate's decree enclosed a demigod.  Syn. 
Scarce had the Sun given place unto the Moon,  
When we had tidings of your happy fortune;  
Neither had we this night our barks forsaken,  
But to perform our homage, and to see you.  Ly. 
As I'm a jucy-tree, I am o'rejoyed,  
To have so fair, and so good company:  
I'm sure my leaves to morrow will assume  
A far more fertile, and more lively green.  
But you fair Nymphs, ever by me adored,  
Where are those pleasant places you are planted?  Clor. 
We dwell by day in a Wood far remote.  Syn. 
That we may there behold our fruits in safety;  
They are not common, and it had been injurious,  
If Heaven had left us to be pillaged by Passengers.  Ly. 
You are Fruit-trees I perceive.  Syn. 
Fruit-trees, most excellent, as you shall find.  Ly. 
I shall be ravished to hear your story.  Syn. 
Know then, when mortal, we were Comfit-makers,  
And gave them such an high exalted taste,  
That even Diana could not but commend 'em,  
At her return from chase she oft would eat 'em,  
But when we foolishly divulged this favour,  
She was so angry, that, with sudden rage,  
She changed us both to trees, as you are now.  Ly. 
What trees?  Syn. 
My Sister is a cherrytree,  
And Destiny made me bear Apricocks.  ( pointing to the fruits.) Ly. 
But, tell me Nymphs, are these the fruits ye bare?  Clor. 
Yes, that's a favour granted to our Deities,  
They all grow Comfits.  Ly. 
They taste ne'er the worse.  Syn. 
You cannot say so, if you do not try 'em:  
Gather 'em.  Ly. 
I gather 'em?  Syn. 
They are very pleasant,  
Th' are served in at the table of the Gods,  
And you may eat'em.  Ly. 
Think't not strange that I  
Excuse myself— a tree nor eats, nor drinks.  Syn. 
Who is so foolish, but must know your tree  
Can neither eat nor drink? But you, that are  
As 'twere, the soul unto its feeble nature,  
Are not exempt to take your nourishment,  
Thus to subsist, Trees that are demigods,  
Come almost every night to pull our fruits,  
Their sap without it would be very barren.  Ly. 
'Tis true, my trunk I find is somewhat weak,  
And by these instances I do conclude,  
That Tree cannot live long that does not eat.  Clor. 
Then follow our example, eat apace.  ( eating Comfits.) Ly. 
What you devour your own substance— ha!  Clor. 
That's to invite you to be led by us.  Ly. 
Sweeter than is thy Nectar Ganymede!  ( eating.) 
How happy are we Trees!  Syn. 
Well our dear Brother.—  Ly. 
Troth Sister Apricock, your fruits are rare,  
Such Saturn in the golden age did eat.  
But is our Sister Myrrah still alive?—  
Her Trunk is very old.  Syn. 
I never saw her:  
Is she of your acquaintance Sister? Speak.  Clor. 
Myrrah was never seen in these our parts.  Ly. 
Her Tree lives only in Arabia,  
And to say truth, that Country's far from yours:  
But do ye never visit one another?  Syn. 
We very seldom leave our native Soil.  Ly. 
Hark Nymphs, I hear a very melodious sound.  Clo. 
'Tis a young Cypress— see there, where he comes.  Ly. 
And that grave Beard?  Syn. 
Oh speak with reverence,  
He is a River-God of the best rank,  
We here must pay the duties that we owe him—  
He will receive you kindly when he knows you.   

SCENE VI.  Enter to them Montenor, disguised like a God of a River, with a very long Beard, and one of his servants disguised with many branches of cypress, carrying a Lute. Syn. 
Great Father, may your waters clear and pure  ( to Monten.) 
For ever flow, as we by your embrace,  
Receive the sovereign height of our content.  Ly. 
Never could we believe, a God so great,  
Would leave his watery bed to visit us.  
And knowing us to be such demigods,  
Should us prefer before Neptune and Thetis is.  ( Montenor instead of answering, grunts.) 
Sisters, he answers in an uncouth way,  
Pray what's his language?  Syn. 
'Tis a river's language,  
He can be understood by Fishes only.  Ly. 
This venerable God grunts like a Hog;  
Your Fishes methinks, speak a foolish language,  
He stares upon me with one ugly eye.  Syn. 
He wonders much to see you in this place:  
Father pray know this stranger demigod;  
'Tis he that once the honour was of Brie,  
The glory of Age, and pastoral Life.  
He's now a Tree, and will people your banks  
With many branches springing from his body.  ( To Lysis.) 
He beckons you, go and receive his kindness.  Ly. 
What do you mean to squeeze me as you do?  ( striving to get out of his arms, he embracing him too hard.) 
Must your arms thus supply your want of voice?  
Good mute God hold, and do not crush my Wood.  Clor. 
What, fly from his embrace?  Ly. 
Ah— hamadryad,  
I do not like such kind embraces, I—  Syn. 
The God holds out his arm at your loud cry.  Ly. 
Truce to embraces, I'll be there no more.  Syn. 
Truce if you please, but let's do something else,  
Let's consecrate with songs your Metamorphose;  
Father shall we obtain to't your consent?  ( The God grunting.) Ly. 
This grunting God does very much displease me.  Syn. 
Come, who begins?  Ly. 
Why Demi-goddess, the  
Dispute's between you two, I'm not concerned.  Syn. 
well'it shall be I.  Clor. 
We will sing afterwards.  Syn. 
Good Brother cypress lend me( pray) your Lute.  ( She taking the Lute from Cypress singing to it, begins.) 
O Fate, most worthy Envy!  Ly. 
Ye Gods! Why was not I a Tree at first?  
Divine Amphion!  Syn. 
Silence, hear.  Lyn. 
Thy voice  
Charms me, as much as did thy Apricocks.  Syn. 
sings.  
Oh Fate most worthy envy! we  
Lysis possess that glorious Tree:  
Whose virtues him a demigod have made  
T' enjoy a life shall never fade.  
Oh envied destiny!  
He is worthy of this glory,  
His Sheepherd's noble acts, which him renowned,  
Declared, that thus he one day should be crowned  
And engrave his name in story,  
He is worthy of this glory.  
Well, what think ye?  Lie 
Sweet Nymph Apricock, may  
I not inoculate such Trees as you?   

SCENE VII.  Enter to them Angel. Clarim. Lucid. Ansel. Charit. Angel. 
'Tis time now to appear, let us advance.  Syn. 
Gods! I perceive some Mortals coming hither.  Ly. 
I'll to my Trunk again, and do you vanish.  ( to Syn.) Syn. 
And why?  Ly. 
But what see I?  ( amazed to see Anselm rising out of his Trunk.) Ansel. 
A rural demigod!  
My incredulity the Gods have punished,  
And I no more doubt thy Divinity,  
I am a Tree like thee.  Ly. 
A tree dear Brother?  
But 'twas not needful thou shouldst have my Trunk:  
Be a Tree if thou wilt, not at my cost.  Char. 
That's he, that was my shepherd once, I know him.  Angel. 
Ye mighty Deities, excuse our boldness,  ( to sin, and the demigods.) 
We come to trouble you unhandsomely,  
But 'tis to pay our duty to a shepherd,  
Whom Heaven of late has ranked among the Gods:  
They tell us he's a Tree.  Ly. 
Yes— but my bark  
Another.—  Ansel. 
I obey the fates that forced Me.  Angel. 
what Polidore? is he a demigod?  Ly. 
No, he is no such thing, for if he be,  
He's but a Bastard-Demi-god: for Trees  
Of honour, and of good Original,  
Will ne'er take root within another's Trunk.  Syn. 
If Heaven have so decreed—  Char. 
We may not doubt it.  Ly. 
Give me my Trunk again.  ( to Ansel.) Char. 
Will you resist him?  
For love-sake cross him not, but be again  
A shepherd, and love me thy shepherdess.  Ly. 
No, I ought be a Tree and must, yet trust Me,  
Tree as I am I keep my faith to Thee.  Char. 
If so, for my sake then renounce that stock.  Ly. 
Alas, they rob me, and that's it afflicts me:  
But you, Tree-ravisher, restore—  Ansel. 
I cannot,  
Heaven it forbids.  Ly. 
Unhappy that I am!  Syn. 
What ail you?  Ly. 
Ah— Sisters look to my affairs.  
If I'm displanted, I can live no longer.  Clo. 
No, no, fear not; since he's so obstinate  
To rob you of a Trunk ordained for you,  
Let him live there, hated by our companions,  
More than the meanest shrub in all this country.  Ly. 
But what shall I do then?  Syn. 
Why are there not  
More pleasant places, and far better trees?  
We there will plant ourselves.  Ly. 
May that be done?  Sy. 
Our power's great, what say you Father? Is't  
Not your opinion, that his place be changed?  Mon. grunts.) Ly. 
This devilish Hog, me thinks is a strange God,  Clo. 
he'd have you plant in Angelica's garden.  Ly. 
'Tis well, the place is not at all unpleasant:  
But sure when we live so far from our Trunks,  
The vegetative soul need's nutriment—  
If I must planted be, my amorous Nymphs,  
engraft me on some Tree as far as you;  
O sweet A pricocks!  Syn. 
Ye shall be satisfied  Ly. 
You'll make me truly then a fruit-Tree?  Syn. 
Truly,  
Come;  Ly. 
Shepherdess farewell.  Char. 
Let me be present  
At th' secret mystery that there transplants you,  
I'm sure that very night our Troup will dance,  
About the sacred Trunk that shall enclose you.  Syn. 
Then follow at a distance.  Ly. 
Oh what comfits  
At the sunrising will spring from my branches!  Clo. 
Yes doubt it not.  Ly. 
And thou! thou cur'st thief-tree,  
Know to bear fruit, thy wood's nor fair, nor good,  
And th' ever dance, at distance, round about thee,  
Thou't serve for nothing, but to make a gallows.  Exit. with the demigods. Angel. 
By this device they lead him to the Castle,  Ansel. 
Then thus I my new destiny renounce,  ( coming out of the tree.) 
And have too little share in that old stock,  
T' expose myself to what he did prognostic,  
Only great Nymph you knowing to oblige Me.  Angel 
Come no more Nymph, and shepherd let's return  
Home to the Castle, and let Crooks' alone,  
Lysis untreed, our Comedy is done.  Exit. 
FINIS.