IL PASTOR FIDO, The faithful Shepherd. A PASTORAL Written in Italian by BAPTISTA GVARINI, a Knight of ITALY. And now Newly Translated out of the ORIGINAL.  
LONDON, Printed by R. Raworth, M DC XLVII.   

To the most Illustrious and most hopeful PRINCE CHARLES', Prince of WALES.  
SIR,  
WHilst I had the honour to serve your Highness, I did it (how weakly soever) with that fidelity and dutiful affection to your Person, which found your gracious acceptance, together with some encouragement from your own mouth to hope a new and more sixt relation to you in the future; the only suit I was bold to make: as having ever esteemed that to serve your Highness, would of itself be an abundant reward for having served you.  
In the mean time I hold myself bound to pay your Highness some tribute of my hours of vacancy, presenting to your Princely view for the present this Italian Pastoral, into which the no less wise than witty Guarini (having grown unprofitably grey in Travel, Universities, and Courts, as out of the fifth Act, where he personates himself under the name of old Carino, may be collected) infused whatsoever of excellent so eminent Schools could teach so apt a Scholar. His scope therein being, to make a Dernier effort (as the French call it) or general muster of the whole forces of his Wit before his Princely Master (the then Duke of Savoy) and withal to insinuate and bring into that awful presence, in their masking clothes (as I may say) such principles of Virtue, and knowledge Moral, Political, and Theological, as (peradventure) in their own grave habits, out of the mouths of severer Instructors, would not have found so easy admittance to a Prince in the heat of his youth, heightened with the pomp and flatteries that attend on Greatness, and with the glorious triumphs and felicities of his royal Nuptials then celebrating: though this was the same Charles Emanuel who proved afterwards in his riper years, by his Counsels and by his Prowess, the Bulwark indeed of Italy, against the puissance of the great Henry of France himself, your Highness' most renowned Grandfather.  
Your Highness may have seen at Paris a Picture (it is in the Cabinet of the great Chancellor there) so admirably designed, that, presenting to the common beholders a multitude of little faces (the famous Ancestors of that Noble man); at the same time, to him that looks through a Perspective (kept there for that purpose) there appears only a single portrait in great of the Chancellor himself; the Painter thereby intimating, that in him alone are contracted the Virtues of all his Progenitors; or perchance by a more subtle Philosophy demonstrating, how the Body Politic is composed of many natural ones; and how each of these, entire in itself, and consisting of head, eyes, hands, and the like, is a head, an eye, or a hand in the other: as also, that men's Privates cannot be preserved, if the Public be destroyed, no more than those little Pictures could remain in being, if the great one were defaced: which great one likewise was first and chiefest in the Painter's design, and that for which all the rest were made.  
Just so our Author (exposing to ordinary view an Interlude of Shepherds, their loves, and other little concernments, with the stroke of a lighter pencil) presents through the perspective of the Chorus, another and more suitable object to his Royal Spectators. He shows to them the image of a gasping State (once the most flourishing in the world): A wild Boar (the sword) depopulating the Country: the Pestilence unpeopling the Towns: their gods themselves in the merciless humane Sacrifices exacting bloody contribution from both: and the Priests (a third Estate of misery) bearing the burden of all in the Chorus, where they deplore their own and the common Calamity. Yet in the Catastrophe, the Boar slain; the Pestilence (but this was before upon that miserable composition with their Gods) ceased; the Priests above all others exulting with pious joy: and all this miraculous change occasioned by the presaged Nuptials of two of Divine (that is, Royal) extraction; meaning those at that time of the Duke of Savoy with the Infanta of Spain, from which fortunate Conjunction he prophesies a final period to the troubles that had formerly distracted that State: So much depends upon the Marriages of Princes.  
I am not ignorant (Sir) that this famous Dramatic Poem must have lost much of the life and quickness by being poured out of one vessel (that is, one Language) into another, besides what difference may be in the capacity and mettle of the Vessels themselves (the Italian being transcendently both copious and harmonious), and beside the unsteadiness of the hand that powers it; And that a Translation at the best is but the mock-Rainbow in the clouds, faintly imitating the true one: into which Apollo himself had a full and immediate influence.  
Yet because it seems to me (beholding it at the best light) a Landscape of these Kingdoms, (your Royal Patrimony) as well in the former flourishing, as the present distractions thereof, I thought it not improper for your Princely notion at this time, thereby to occasion your Highness, even in your recreations, to reflect upon the sad Original, not without hope to see it yet speedily made a perfect parallel throughout; and also yourself a great Instrument of it. Whether by some happy Royal Marriage (as in this Pastoral, and the case of Savoy, to which it alludes) thereby uniting a miserably divided people in a public joy; or by such other ways and means as it may have pleased the Divine Providence to ordain for an end of our woe; I leave to that Providence to determine.   

To the Author of this TRANSLATION.  
Such is our Pride, our Folly, or our Fate,  
That few but such as cannot write, translate.  
But what in them is want of wit, or voice,  
In thee is either Modesty, or Choice.  
Whiles this restored work at thy command  
Casts off the blemish of an artless hand.  
Secure of Fame, thou justly dost esteem  
Less honour to create, then to redeem.  
Nor ought a Genius less than his that writ,  
Attempt Translation; for transplanted wit  
All the defects of air and soil doth share,  
And colder brains like colder Climates are:  
In vain they toil, since nothing can beget  
A vital spirit, but a vital heat.  
That servile path thou nobly dost decline  
Of tracing word by word, and line by line.  
Those are the laboured births of slavish brains,  
Not the effects of Poetry, but pains.  
Cheap vulgar arts, whose narrowness affords  
No flight for thoughts, but poorly sticks at words.  
A new and nobler way thou dost pursue  
To make Translations, and Translators too.  
They but preserve the Ashes, Thou the Flame,  
True to his sense, but truer to his fame.  
Foording his current, where thou find'st it low  
Lettest in thine own to make it rise and flow.  
Wisely restoring whatsoever grace  
It lost by change of Times, or Tongues, or Place.  
Nor fettered to his Numbers, and his Times,  
Betrayest his Music to unhappy Rhymes,  
Nor are the nerves of his compacted strength  
Stretched and dissolved into unsinnewed length:  
Yet after all (lest we should think it thine)  
Thy spirit to his circle dost confine.  
New names, new dress, and the modern cast,  
Some Scenes, some persons altered, had outfaced  
The world, it were thy work; for we have known  
Some thanked & praised for what was less their own.  
That curious hand which to the life can trace  
The airs, the lines, and features of a face,  
May with a free and bolder stroke express  
A varied posture, or a flattering Dress;  
He could have made those like, who made the rest,  
But that he knew his own design was best.  
JOHN DENHAM.   

The Scene ARCADIA.  

THE SPEAKERS.  
SILVIO, Son to Montano, & contracted to Amarillis.  
LINCO, An old man, servant to Montano.  
MIRTILLO, In love with Amarillis  
ERGASTO, Friend to Mirtillo  
CORISCA, A wanton Nymph, in love with Mirtillo  
MONTANO, The chief Priest, Father to Silvio  
TITIRO, Father to Amarillis  
DAMETA, An old man, servant to Montano  
satire, An old goatish fellow in love with Corisca  
DORINDA, In love with Silvio  
LUPINO, A Goatherd, servant to Dorinda  
AMARILLIS, Daughter to Titiro  
NICANDRO, Chief Minister to the Priest  
CORIDON, In love with Corisca  
CARINO, An old man supposed Father to Mirtillo  
URANIO, An old man Friend to Carino  
MESSENGER.  
TIRENIO, A blind Prophet.  
CHORUS of 

Shepherd's.  
Huntsmen.  
Nymphs.  
Priests.      

  

IL PASTOR FIDO. THE PROLOGUE, Spoken by ALFEO, a River of ARCADIA.  
IF from old Fame, and peradventure not  
Believed at all by you, or else forgot,  
O'th' Amorous Brook ye heard the wonder ever,  
Which to pursue the coy and flying River  
Of his beloved Arethusa, ran  
(O force of Love!) piercing the Ocean,  
And the earth's hidden bowels, to that Isle,  
Where underneath the huge Etnean Pile▪  
Upon his back the kicking Giant lies,  
Spitting despiteful flames at hostile Skies,  
And leaves it doubtful to the world that's under,  
If heaven at him, or he at heaven thunder:  
That Brook am I. Though what you have been told  
Ye may, your eyes ye cannot doubt. Behold!  
Leaving my loved Nymph, and thridding back  
That well known way where I had made a tract  
Through the great waters, I in person rise  
And view (with tears of gladness in mine eyes)  
That ancient and that venerable earth  
From whose cold entrails I received my birth,  
Not thralled and plundered (as of late) but free  
And beautiful as it was wont to be.  
O my dear mother! O Arcadia, known  
By me thy son, though so long absent! own  
Thy deer, and (being improved by travel) now  
Thy great ALFEO, and as famed as thou.  
These be the streets once so renowned, these be  
The woods where the old russet honesty  
Did live and die: unto this only nook  
O'th' iron world, when she her flight had took  
From sinful men, the golden age retired.  
Here (that which elsewhere is in vain desired)  
Freedom unstrained, and from suspicion free,  
Flourished in peace and sweet security.  
An unarmed people had for their defence  
A wall of Virtue, and of Innocence,  
Stronger than that whose living stones were laid  
About great Thebes, whilst he that built it played.  
For when tumultuous war flamed most in Greece  
And other her more warlike provinces  
Arcadia armed, to this blessed part alone,  
This Sanctuary, there was never known  
The least Alarum, the least sound to come,  
Or of a friends, or of an enemies Drum.  
And so much Corinth, Thebes, Mycenae hoped  
To triumph o'er their foes, as they were propped  
By this good people, and their care were held,  
Who were the Care of Heaven, whom heaven upheld.  
A blessed mutual bulwark they did prove,  
Those to these here, and these to those above:  
Those fought with weapons, and these fought with Prayer.  
Nor though each here a shepherd's habit ware,  
And bore the name; yet either in his mien,  
Or exercises, was the shepherd seen.  
But some would place themselves as spies to pry▪  
Into the Stars and Elements (the high  
Secrets of Heaven and Nature) others here  
Were wholly given to chase the fearful Deer:  
Others, whom glory had inflamed more,  
T' encounter with a Bear, or tusked Boar.  
Some swift in running, some were terrible  
At Barriers, some in wrestling did excel;  
One threw a dart, another drew a flight,  
Both hit with cunning the intended white.  
Some one thing, some another did affect,  
(Each as his mind and fancy did direct)  
The sacred Muses Most, Virgins of yore  
In high esteem, though now despised and poor.  
But how transported hither where the Po  
Falls into Dora, is Arcadia now?  
This is the cloister surely, this the cave  
Of ancient Erycina, and that brave  
Aspiring Temple yonder is the same  
Was consecrated to great Cynthia's name:  
How then removed? What new-come power can so  
Transplant a Land, and all the People? O  
Royal Infanta, but a child in age,  
Yet even already as a Matron sage!  
The virtue of your Name, power of your Blood  
Great Catherina (now 'tis understood)  
Wrought this; from that great House descended, which  
New Kingdoms daily, and new worlds enrich.  
Those great effects which we as wonders view,  
Are natural and usual things with you.  
As by that Sun which from the East doth rise,  
So many excellent varieties  
Are brought into the world, herbs, flowers & trees,  
So many beasts, fowl, fish, in earth, air, seas:  
So by the living Sun of your bright eyes  
(which in the now more worshipped West did rise)  
New Provinces from every Clime about,  
New Realms, new Laurels, and new Trophies sprout.  
Low as my bottom than I bow to you,  
Majestisk Daughter of that Monarch, who  
Enjoys an Empire, so August, so great,  
That Phoebus in it doth both rise and set:  
And Wife of him, to whose breast, hand, and wit  
Heaven did the walls of Italy commit.  
But Alpian rocks are needed now no more,  
Bulwarks, nor horrid cliffs to stand before  
Fair Italy, securer in your guard  
Then in those hills which have her entrance barred.  
That bulwark so invincible in war,  
You make soft Peace's Temple, where from far  
Men come to worship her. Long live as one  
Ye Royal pair; this fair Conjunction  
Presages Christendom again shall boast  
Those many Eastern Sceptres she hath lost.  
This is a field worthy of none but you  
(Magnanimous CHARLES) and a field trodden toe  
By your brave Ancestors. This Land is great,  
Great are your names, great blood in you is met;  
Great your designs, your minds, and your aspects,  
Great offspring too, and deeds the world expects.  
But whilst I prophesy, and Fate prepares  
Circles of gold to crown your silver hairs,  
Disdain not (mighty Souls) this flowery wreath  
Gathered on Pindus by those Maids that breath  
Life in dead men. Poor offering (I confess)  
Yet such as, if Devotion it express,  
Even Heaven itself disdains not: And if from  
Your smiling heaven a favouring gale shall come,  
This Lute which from its gentle warbling strings  
Sending still Music to your ears, now sings  
Soft Loves, and pleasing Hymeneal Rites,  
Shall turn a Trumpet to proclaim your Fights.   

Actus Primus.  

Scena Prima.  SILVIO, LINCO, With Huntsmen. Sil. 
GO you that lodged the Monster, as you're wont  
Amongst the neighbouring sheepcoats, raise the Hunt.  
Rouse eyes and hearts with your shrill voice and horn;  
If ever in Arcadia there were born  
A shepherd, who did follow Cynthia's Court  
As a true lover of her rural sport,  
Within whose Quarry-scorning mind had place  
The pleasure or the glory of the Chase,  
Now let him show that courage and that love,  
By following me, where in a little grove  
To Valour a large field doth open lie,  
That dreadful Boar, I mean, that Prodigy  
Of Nature and the Woods, that huge, that fell,  
And noted'st Tyrant that did ever dwell  
And reign in Erimanthus; the fields mower,  
The mower's terror: Go you then before,  
And do not only with your early horn  
Anticipate, but wake the drowsy morn.— Exeunt Hunts. sounding.  
We, Linco, will to prayers, this perilous Chase  
(Heaven being our guide) we may more boldly trace.  
" That work which is begun well is half done,  
" And without Prayer no work is well begun.  Lin. 
Thy worshipping the Gods I well commend,  
But not thy troubling them who do attend  
The Gods: The Priests as yet are all asleep,  
To whom day springs yet later, where the steep  
Surrounding hills a short Horizon make.  Sil. 
To thee whose heart is hardly yet awake  
The whole world sleeps.  Lin. 
O Silvio, Silvio,  
Why did frank Nature upon thee bestow  
Blossoms of Beauty in thy prime, so sweet  
And fair, for thee to trample under feet?  
Had I thy fresh and blooming cheek, Adieu  
I'd say to beasts, and nobler game pursue.  
The Summer I would spend in feasts and mirth  
In the cool shade, the Winter by the hearth.  Sil. 
How's this? Thou art not Linco sure; for he  
Such counsel never used to give to me.  Lin. 
" Counsel must change as the occasion doth:  
If I were Silvio, so I'd do insooth.  Sil. 
And I, if I were Linco would do so,  
But as I am, I'll do like Silvio.  Lin. 
Fond youth, for a wild Beast so far to roam,  
Whom thou must hunt with danger, when at home  
One's safely lodged!  Sil. 
Dost thou speak seriously?  
How near is it?  Lin. 
As thou art now to me.  Sil. 
thouart mad.  Lin. 
Thou art.  Sil. 
In what wood doth he rest?  Lin. 
Silvio's the wood, and Cruelty the beast.  Sil. 
Mad I was sure!  Lin. 
To have a Nymph so fair,  
(Rather a Goddess of perfections rare)  
Fresher and sweeter than a Rose new blown,  
Softer and whiter than an old Swans down,  
For whom there lives not at this day a swain  
So proud 'mongst us but sighs, and sighs in vain:  
To have, I say, this matchless Paragon  
By Gods and men reserved for thee, nay, thrown  
Into thine arms without one sigh or tear,  
And thou (unworthy!) to disvalue her?  
Art thou not then a beast? a savage one?  
Rather a senseless clod, a stock, a stone?  Sil. 
" If not to be in love be cruelty,  
" Than cruelty's a Virtue: Nor do I  
Repent, but boast, I lodge him in my breast  
By whom I've conquered Love, the greater beast.  Lin. 
How couldst thou conquer (silly Idiot)  
Whom thou ne'er try'dst?  Silu. 
In that I tried him not.  Lin. 
O hadst thou tried him Silvio, and once found  
In mutual Lovers what true joys abound,  
I know thou'dst say, O Love, the sweetest guest,  
Why hast thou been an alien to this breast?  
Leave, leave the woods, leave following beasts, fond boy,  
And follow Love..  Sil. 
Linco, I take more joy  
In one beast caught by my Melampo, far,  
Then in the love of all the Nymphs that are.  
Keep they those joys unto themselves alone  
That find a soul in them; for I find none.  Lin. 
No soul in LOVE (the world's great Soul)? But fool,  
Too soon (believe't) thou'lt find he is all soul:  
(Perchance too late;) for" he'll be sure before  
" We die, to make us all once feel his power.  
And (take my word)" worse torment none can prove,  
" Then in old limbs the youthful itch of love:  
" All tampering then will but exasperate  
" The sore. If Love a young man wound, he straight  
" Balms him again, hope holds up sorrows head,  
" And smiles revive him, if frowns strike him dead.  
" But if an aged man those flames endure,  
" Whose own defects his own repulse procure,  
" Then, than the wound is unsupportable  
" And mortal; then the anguish is a Hell:  
" Then if he pity seek, it is a curse  
" To go without it, and to gained a worse.  
" Ah! hasten not before th' appointed day  
" The curse of days; for if when thou art gray  
" Thou learn to love, 'twill breed a double sense,  
" Of thy youth's pride, and age's impotence.  
Leave, leave the woods, leave following beasts, fond boy,  
And follow Love.  Sil. 
As if there were no joy  
But these chimaeras in a Lover's head,  
Of strange Eliziums, by his fever bred!  Lin. 
Tell me if in this jolly month of May,  
When earth is clad in all her best array,  
In stead of bladed fields, brooks uncontrolled,  
Green woods and painted meads, thou shouldst behold  
Bald fields and meads, brooks bound with Ice, the Pine,  
The Beech, the Ash, the Oak, the Elm, the Vine,  
And Poplar, like inverted Sceletones,  
Stand desolate, rattling their naked bones;  
Wouldst thou not say, Nature is out of tune,  
The world is sick, and like to die in June?  
Now the same horror which thou wouldst receive  
From such a monstrous novelty, conceive  
At thine own self." The all-disposing Heaven  
" To every age hath proper Humours given:  
" And as in old men love absurdly shows;  
" So young men enemies to love oppose  
" Nature and Heaven. Look Silvio round about,  
Examine the whole Universe throughout:  
All that is fair or good, here, or above,  
Or is a Lover, or the work of Love.  
Th' allseeing Heaven, the fruitful Earth's a Lover,  
The Sea with love is ready to boil over.  
Seest thou yond Star of such excelling hue,  
The Sun's Postilion? That's a lover too:  
Nor is exempted from her own son's laws,  
But feels that passion which her beauty's cause.  
Perchance this very hour too she did part  
From her stolen sweets, and Him that keeps her heart.  
Mark what a wanton eye she has! In woods  
Rough Bears, the crook-backt Dolphin loves in floods,  
And sluggish Whales; That little bird which sings  
So sweetly, and so nimbly plies the wings,  
Flying from tree to tree, from Grove to Grove,  
If he could speak, would say, I am in love.  
But his heart says it, and his tongue doth say't  
In language understood by his dear Mate:  
And Silvio, hark how from that wilderness  
His dear Mate answers, And I love no less.  
The Cow's low in the valley; and what's this.  
But an inviting unto amorous bliss?  
The Lions roar in solitary Groves,  
Not for their prey, but for their absent Loves.  
All things that are, but Silvio, are in love,  
The burden's that: Here, round us, and above,  
No soul but Silvio is a foe to joy.  
Leave, leave the woods, leave following beasts, fond boy,  
And follow Love.  Sil. 
Had I my tender years  
Committed to the care of thy gray hairs,  
That thou shouldst thus effeminate my heart  
With love? Know'st thou who I am? who thou art?  Lin. 
Thou art a man (or shouldst be one) and I  
Another; what I teach Humanity.  
And if thou scorn that name (which is my pride)  
Take heed, in stead of being deified,  
Thou turn not beast.  Sil. 
That monster-taming King,  
From whom my lofty pedigree I bring,  
Had never grown so valiant, nor so famed,  
If first the monster Love he had not tamed.  Lin. 
See foolish youth, how idly thou talk'st now!  
Had great Alcides been no Lover, how  
Hadst thou been born? Rather, if he o'ercame  
Monsters and men, to Love impute the same.  
Know'st thou not yet, that to comply with fair  
Omphale's humour, he not only ware  
(In stead of the fierce Lions rugged skin)  
womens' soft robes, but taught those hands to spin,  
And hold a feeble distaff, which did bear  
The knotty Club? His interludes these were  
Between his Acts; And when his ribs were beat  
With dear-bought Counquests, he would then retreat  
Into her lap (the bay of sweet delight)  
As in Love's port to be new built for fight.  
" His sighs from his past toils sweet breathe were,  
" And spirits strengthening him new toils to bear.  
" For as the iron, of itself too rough,  
" And of a harsh unmalleable stuff,  
" Softened with fire, and gentler metal, strength  
" From weakness gathers, and becomes at length  
" Fit for the noblest use: so hearts untamed,  
" (Which their own stiffness often breaks) inflamed  
" With generous Love, and with his sweets allayed,  
" Are clearer, apter for great Actions made.  
If thouart ambitious then to imitate  
Great Hercules, and not degenerate  
From thy high strain, since woods thou dost affect,  
Follow the woods, but do not Love neglect:  
I mean so lawful and so worthy love  
As that of Amarillis. I approve  
(So far from blaming that as cruelty)  
Thy shunning of Dorinda; For in thee  
Who stand'st upon thy blood, 'twere double shame  
To scorch thy breast with an unlawful flame,  
For injuring thy Spouse.  Sil. 
What sayst thou man?  
She is not yet my Spouse.  Lin. 
Was there not than  
A promise solemnly received and given?  
Take heed proud Boy, how thou provokest Heaven.  Sil. 
" Man's freedom is heavens' gift, which doth not take  
" Us at our word when forced vows we make.  Lin. 
ay, but (unless our hopes and judgements fail)  
Heaven made this Match, and promised to entail  
A thousand blessings on't.  Sil. 
'Tis like that there  
Is nothing else to do; a proper care  
To vex the calm rest of the gods above!  
Linco, I like nor this, nor t'other Love.  
I was a Huntsman, not a Lover bred;  
Thou who art all for love, go back to bed.  Lin. 
Thou sprung from Heaven, harsh Boy? nor of divine  
Can I suppose thee, nor of humane Line.  
Alecto's poison thy cold limbs did fashion;  
Sweet Venus had no hand in thy creation.   

Scena secunda.  MIRTILLO, ERGASTO. Mirt. 
O Amarillis, Authoress of my flame,  
(Within my mouth how sweet now is thy name!  
But in my heart how bitter!) Amarillis,  
Fairer and whiter than the whitest Lilies,  
But crueler than cruel Adders far,  
Which having stung (lest they should pity) bar  
Their ears, and fly: If then by speaking I  
Offend thee, I will hold my peace and die.  
I'll hold my peace, but what will that do good,  
If hills and dales roar for me, and this wood  
Which thy dear name can ne'er forget, from me  
So often heard, and carved on every tree?  
The winds shall sigh for me, the fountains shed:  
Abundant tears, grief mourn, and pity plead.  
Or couldst thou bribe whole Nature with a fee  
To silence, lastly Death shall speak for me:  
he'll thunder 't out, and to the world proclaim,  
I died a Martyr in my true Love's flame.  Erg. 
Mirtillo," Love is a great pain at best,  
" But more, by how much more it is suppressed.  
" For as hot Steeds run faster at the check,  
" Then if you laid the reins upon their neck:  
" So love restrained augments, and fiercer grows  
" In a close prison, then when loose he goes.  
Why hidst thou thy flames cause so long from me,  
When the effect could not concealed be?  
Mirtillo burns: how often have I said?  
But inward burns, and will not call for aid.  Mirt. 
Courteous Ergasto, out of my respect  
To her (alas) I did myself neglect:  
Nor would my festering passion yet unfold,  
But that necessity hath made me bold.  
I hear a buzzing rumour everywhere  
(Which to my heart finds passage through my ear)  
That Amarillis shortly weds; nor dare  
Ask more, lest so I should my love declare,  
Or prove my fear too true. Full well I know  
(Nor hath Love struck me blind) that in my low  
And slender fortunes, it were simple pride  
To hope a Nymph so shaped, so qualified,  
So raised in wealth, in spirit, and in blood,  
Above all these, so gentle, and so good,  
Can ere be mine: no, I have ta'en the height  
Of my unhappy Star, my sullen fate  
Made me for fuel only, born to smother  
In fires I cannot kindle in another.  
Yet since Fate's pleased I should affect death more  
Than life, at lest I'd have her know before,  
That she's beholding to me for my death,  
And deign when I sigh out my latest breath  
To cast her fair eyes on me, and say, die.  
This reasonable boon obtain would I,  
That ere she go to make another blessed  
In having her, she'd hear me speak at least,  
But once, my deer Ergasto. Now if love  
Or pity of me thy soft entrails move,  
Procure me this, this physic only lend,  
To make the passage easy to my end.  Erg. 
From one that loves, a just, from one that dies,  
A small request: yet a hard enterprise.  
Woe be to her, should her stern father hear  
That to stolen prayer's she ere had lent an ear!  
Or if some baser pickthank should disclose  
It to the Priest her father-in-law! Who knows  
But out of these respects she may eschew  
Thy company, and yet affect thee too?  
" For women are more prone to love then men;  
" But to conceal't have more discretion then.  
And if 'twere true that she did love thee, what  
Could she do less than shun thee for all that?  
" She that wants power to help listens in vain,  
" And flies with pity, when her stay breeds pain;  
" And I have heard 'tis still the wisest course  
" To quit that soon which one must quit perforce.  Mir. 
O were this true, and could I think it so,  
Sweet were my pain, and fortunate my woe!  
But deer Ergasto (hide it not from me  
So help thee Pan) who may this Bridegroom be  
So loved of all the Stars?  Erg. 
Dost thou not know  
(I'm sure thou dost) that famous Silvio,  
Silvio the rich, the gallant and the fair,  
The Priest Montano's only Son and Heir?  
'Tis he.  Mir. 
O happy youth, whose joy appears  
So ripe for harvest in his spring of years!  
Pardon me gentle swain, I envy not  
Thy happiness, but mourn my own hard lot.  Erg. 
Indeed there is no reason to envy,  
Rather to pity him.  Mirt. 
To pity? Why?  Erg. 
Because he loves her not.  Mirt. 
And hath he wit?  
Hath he a heart? Is he not blind?— And yet  
When I consider with what full aspect  
Her starry eyes their influence direct  
Into my breast, she cannot have a dart  
Left in her quiver for another heart.  
But why do they a gem so precious throw  
To one that knows it not, and scorns it so?  Erg. 
Because the heavens' did through this Marriage  
Unto Arcadia long ago presage  
Deliverance. Hast not thou heard that here  
Is paid to the great Goddess every year  
Of a Nymph's guiltless blood a cruel and  
Unconscionable tribute by this Land?  Mirt. 
'Tis news to me; nor let that strange appear,  
Since I myself am but a stranger here,  
And since I came (by Fate's decree and Love's)  
Almost a constant Burgess of the Groves.  
But what strange crime deserved so sharp a doom?  
How could such monstrous cruelty find room  
In a Celestial mind?  Erg. 
Of me then know  
From the first head the torrent of our woe:  
A Story that would tears of pity wrest  
From heart of oak, much more from humane breast.  
Whilst yet the Priesthood was not tied to age,  
A youthful swain of noble Parentage,  
Then Diana's Priest (Aminta was his name)  
The Nymph Lucrina did with love inflame.  
All creatures of her sex exceeded she  
As much in beauty as unconstancy.  
She long requited, or at least to sight  
(If looks and eyes have tongues) she did requite  
The pure affection of the Love-sick lad,  
And fed his hopes whilst he no Rival had.  
But when a rustic swain her favour sought,  
(See now a perfect woman!) in a thought,  
She left the former, with one sigh was shook,  
With the faint battery of one amorous look:  
Her hearts new guest now takes up all the room,  
Dislodged Aminta ere he knew for whom.  
Hapless Aminta! who from that day forth  
Was so abhorred, held of so little worth,  
By that ungrate whom he did still adore,  
That she would neither hear nor see him more.  
If this unkindness cut the wretch to th'heart,  
If he sighed, wept, and raved, to thee who art  
Acquainted with Love's pangs, I leave to guess.  Mir. 
O, 'Twas a torment no man can express!  Erg. 
When then his tears and prayers he had cast  
After his heart, to Diana turned at last;  
If ever with pure heart, Goddess (quoth he)  
And guiltless hand I kindled flame to thee,  
Revenge my faith, which a perfidious Maid  
Under safe conduct of her smiles betrayed.  
The Goddess (gentler than the Nymph was) hears  
The faithful Lover's and her servant's tears  
And prayer's: and pity kindling her just ire,  
By opposition did augment the fire  
Her powerful bow into her hand she took,  
And in ARCADIA'S wretched bosom stuck  
Arrows of death and catching Pestilence  
Invisible, and therefore without fence.  
Without remorse they execute her rage  
Without respect on every sex and age.  
Nor Antidotes nor Medicines here availed,  
Nor flying now; weak Art her Master failed:  
And oft, whilst he the remedy applied,  
Before the Patient the Physician died.  
The only hope that's left is from the sky,  
So to the nearest Oracle they fly,  
Which soon returned an answer clear enough,  
But above measure terrible and rough;  
That Cynthia was incensed, but that the Land  
Might be relieved, if by Aminta's hand  
That faithless Nymph Lucrina, or some one  
For her, of the Arcadian Nation  
Were as an offering to Diana slain.  
So she, when long sh' had prayed, long wept in vain,  
And long expected her new Lovers aid,  
To th' holy Altars like a Bride arrayed,  
And with what pomp Religion could devise,  
Was led a miserable Sacrifice.  
Where at those feet from which hers fled so fast,  
(The feet of her Idolater) at last  
Bending her trembling knees, she did attend  
From the offended youth a cruel end.  
The sacred knife he boldly did unsheathe,  
Rage and revenge his nostrils seemed to breathe,  
His eyes to sparkle; turning then to her,  
Said with a sigh (death's hollow messenger,)  
Whom thou hast left Lucrina, and whom took,  
Learn by this blow: And with that word he struck  
Himself, and plunged the knife in his own breast  
To th' haft: In one both Sacrifice and Priest  
Fell bleeding at her feet, whilst she (amazed  
To see that dire unlooked for object) gazed  
As one 'twixt life and death, nor yet did know  
If grief had stabbed her, or the threatened blow.  
But when she found her tongue again, and knew  
Distinctly what was acted there, O true,  
O brave Aminta, (bathing in a flood  
Of tears) she said! O Lover, understood▪  
Too late! who by thy death dost give to me  
Both life and death. If in forsaking thee  
I sinned; lo, I redeem that sin of mine,  
Wedding my soul eternally to thine.  
This said, that knife fresh reeking with the gore  
Of the now loved in death, and purpled o'er,  
She drew from his pale breast, and in her own  
Sheathed it again; then willingly sunk down  
Into Aminta's arms, who yet had breath,  
And felt perchance that lightning before death.  
Such was this pair of Lovers tragic fall,  
'Cause he kept too much faith, she none at all.  Mir. 
O hapless swain, yet happy in his Love,  
Having so rich occasion to approve  
His spotless faith, and dying to revive  
That spark in her he could not being alive!  
But what became then of the poor diseased?  
Did the plague cease? was Cinthia's wrath appeased?  Erg. 
It did relent, but was not quite put out:  
For the same month (the year being wheeled about)  
It burst out with more fury, and did make  
A dire relapse: This forced us to betake  
Ourselves unto the Oracle again;  
Which uttered now a sadder doom; That then  
And yearly, we to Night's offended Queen  
A Maid or Wife should offer, past fifteen  
And short of twenty; by which means the rage  
Which swallowed thousands, one death should assuage.  
Moreover a hard law, and weighing well  
The nature of that sex, impossible  
To keep; a law in bloody letters writ  
On wretched women was imposed by it;  
That whatsoever Maid or Wife should prove  
In any sort a changeling in her love,  
Unless some friend would pay the penalty  
In stead of her, should without mercy die.  
This dire, this national Calamity  
The good old man hath hope to remedy  
By means of this desired Match; because  
The Oracle after some little pause  
Being asked again, what end our woe should have,  
To our demand this punctual answer gave;  
Your woe shall end when two of Race Divine  
Love shall combine:  
And for a faithless Nymphs apostate state  
A faithful Shepherd supererogate.  
Now there are left in all Arcadia  
Of heavenly Stock no other slips this day  
But Silvio and Amarillis; She  
From Pan descended, from Alcides Herald  
Nor had there ever (to our much regret)  
Of those two Lines a Male and Female met,  
As now there do: whence the believing Father  
Great hopes of good not without cause doth gather.  
For though the things foretold by th' Oracle  
Be not fulfilled yet in each particle,  
This is the fundamental point; the rest  
Is still reserved in Fates own secret breast,  
And of the Marriage one day shall ensue.  Mir. 
And all this do Mirtillo to undo?  
What a long swing is fetched! what army's band  
Against one heart half murdered to their hand!  
Is't not enough that cruel Love's my foe,  
Unless Fate too conspire my overthrow?  Erg. 
Alas, Mirtillo! grieving does no good,  
" Tears quench not Love, but are his milk and food.  
'T shall scape me hard, but ere the Sun descend  
This cruel one shall hear thee, Courage friend:  
" These sighs refresh not (as thou dost suppose)  
" Thy burning heart; but rather are like those  
" Impetuous winds, which in a Town on fire  
" The bellows are to blow and fan it higher:  
" Love's whirlwinds, bringing to poor Lovers ever  
" Black clouds of grief, which showers of tears deliver.   

Scena tertia.  CORISCA. 
WHo ever saw, what heart did ever prove  
So strange, fond, impotent a Passion? Love,  
And cold Disdain (a miracle to me  
Two contraries should in one subject be  
Both in extremes!) I know not how, each other  
Destroy, and generate; inflame, and smother.  
When I behold Mirtillo's every grace,  
From his neat foot to his bewitching face,  
His unaffected carriage, sweet aspect,  
Words, actions, looks, and manners, they eject  
Such flames of love, that every passion  
Besides seems to be conquered by this one.  
But when I think how dotingly he prizes  
Another woman, and for her despises  
My almost peerless face (although I say't)  
On which a thousand eyes for alms do wait,  
Then do I scorn, abhor, and loathe him more  
Than ever I did value him before,  
And scarce can think it possible that he  
Had ever any interest in me.  
O if my sweet Mirtillo were mine own,  
So that I had him to myself alone!  
(These are my thoughts sometimes) no mortal wight  
More bliss could boast of then Corisca might!  
And then I feel such kindly flames, so sweet  
A vapour rise, that I could almost meet  
His love half way; yea, follow him, adore  
His very steps, and aid from him implore:  
Nay, I do love him so, I could expire  
His sacrifice in such a pleasing fire.  
Then I'm myself again: And what (say I)  
A proud disdainful boy! one that doth fly  
From me, and love another! that can look  
Upon this face of mine, and not be struck!  
But guard himself so well as not to die  
For love! Shall I, that should behold him lie  
Trembling and weeping at these feet of mine  
(As many better men have done) incline  
Trembling and weeping at his feet? O no!  
And with this thought into such rage I grow  
Against myself, and him, that sounding straight  
Unto my eyes and fancy a retreat,  
Mirtillo's name worser than death I seem  
To hate, and mine own self for loving him;  
Whom I would see the miserablest swain,  
The most despised thing that doth remain  
Upon the earth; and if I had my will,  
With mine own hands I could the villain kill.  
Thus like two seas encountering, Hate and Love,  
Desire and Scorn in me dire battle move:  
And I (the flame of thousand hearts, the rack  
Of thousands souls) languish, and burn, and lack  
That pity I denied to others. I  
Who have in Cities oft been courted by  
Gallants and wits, to whom great Lords have bent,  
And yet withstood volleys of compliment,  
Squadrons of Lovers, jeered their idle fires,  
And with false hopes deluded their desires;  
And now enforced t'a rustic swain to yield  
In single sight t'a fellow that's unskilled!  
O thou most wretched of all womankind  
Corisca! Where couldst thou diversion find  
Hadst thou no other Lover? how assuage,  
Or by what means deceive thy amorous rage?  
Learn women all from me this housewifery,  
Make you conserve of Lovers to keep by.  
Had I no Sweetheart but this sullen Boy,  
Were I not well provided of a joy?  
" To extreme want how likely to be hurled  
" Is that ill housewife, who in all the world  
" But one Love only, but one Servant hath?  
Corisca will be no such fool." What's faith?  
" What's constancy? Tales which the jealous feign  
" To awe fond girls: names as absurd as vain.  
" Faith in a woman (if at least there be  
Faith in a woman unrevealed to me)  
" Is not a virtue, nor a heavenly grace,  
" But the sad penance of a ruined face,  
" That's pleased with one, cause it can please no more.  
" A handsome woman sought unto by store  
" Of gallant youths, if pleased with one alone  
No woman is, or is a foolish one.  
" What's beauty (tell me) if not viewed? or viewed,  
" If not pursued? or if pursued, pursued  
" By one alone? Where Lovers frequent are,  
" It is a sign the party loved is rare,  
" Glorious and bright. A woman's honour is  
" T' have many Servants: Courtly Dames know this,  
Who live in Towns, and those most practice it  
Who have most wealth, most beauty, and most wit.  
'Tis clownishness (say they) to reject any,  
And folly too, since that's performed by many,  
One cannot do: One Officer to wait,  
A second to present, a third to prate,  
A fourth for somewhat else; so it doth fall  
Out oft, that favours being general  
No favours seem: or jealousy thus thrown  
To whet them, all are easier kept than one.  
This merry life is by great Ladies led  
In Towns, and 'twas my fortune to be bred  
with one of them; by whose example first,  
Next by her rules, I in Love's art was nursed  
Up from my childhood: she would often say,  
" Corisca, thou must use another day  
" Thy Lovers like thy garments, put on one,  
" Have many, often shift, and wear out none.  
" For daily conversation breeds distaste,  
" Distaste contempt, and loathing at the last.  
Then get the start, let not the servant say,  
H'as turned his Mistress, not she him, away.  
And I have kept her rules: I've choice, and strive  
To please them all: to this my hand I give,  
And wink on him; the handsomest I admit  
Into my bosom; but not one shall get  
Into my heart: and yet I know not how  
(Ay me!) Mirtillo's crept too near it now.  
He made me sigh, not sigh as heretofore  
To give false fire, but true flames to deplore;  
Robbing my limbs of rest, my eyes of sleep,  
Even I can watch till the gray morning peep  
(The discontented Lovers truce); even I  
(Strange change!) to melancholy walks can fly;  
And through the gloomy horrors of this grove  
Trace the sweet footsteps of my hated Love.  
What wilt thou do, Corisca? sue? my hate  
Permits not this, nor stands it with my State.  
Wilt thou then fly him? That would show more brains,  
But Love says no to that: What then remains?  
First I will try allurements, and discover  
The love to him, but will conceal the Lover;  
I'll use deceits, if that avail me not;  
And if those sail me too, my brain shall plot  
A brave revenge: Mirtillo shall partake  
Hate, if he spurn at Love; and I will make  
His Amarillis rue, that she was ere  
A Rival unto me, to him so dear.  
Last I will teach you both what 'tis to move  
A woman to abhor where she did love.   

Scena quarta.  TITIRO, MONTANO, DAMETAS. Tit. 
I Speak Montano what I know is true,  
And speak to one who knows more than I do.  
" Your Oracles are still obscurer far  
" Than we imagine: and their answers are  
" Like knives, which if they warily be caught  
" By that safe part which for the hand was wrought,  
" Are useful; but if rashly they be ta'en  
" By th'edge or point, one may be hurt or slain.  
That Amarillis (as thou arguest) should  
By Heaven be destined for the general good  
And safety of Arcadia, who should rather  
Desire and joy, than I who am her Father?  
But when I mark the words of th' Oracle,  
Me thinks with those the signs agree not well.  
If Love must join them, and the one doth fly,  
How can that be? How can the strings which tie  
The true-Love's knot be hatred and disdain?  
" That cannot be opposed which heavens' ordain:  
Since than we see such opposition here,  
That heavens' did not ordain it, is most clear.  
Had they been pleased that Silvio should have had  
My Amarillis, they would him have made  
A Lover, not a Huntsman.  Mont. 
Dost not see,  
He's young, not yet seventeen? In time even he  
Will feel the dart of Love.  Tit. 
A dog hath got  
His love: I know not why a Nymph should not.  Mont. 
" Youths are inclined more to recreation.  Tit. 
" And is not love a natural inclination?  Mont. 
" Before the time 'tis an unnatural thing.  Tit. 
" Love is a blossom which adorns our spring.  Mont. 
" Your forward blossoms seldom come to good.  Tit. 
" They seldom fail where frosts nip not the bud.  
But came I hither to dispute with thee,  
Montano? I nor can, nor fits it me.  
Yet I 'em a Father too of a most dear  
And only child; and (if Love do not blear  
My eyes) a worthy one; such (under favour)  
That many wooed me, and still do to have her.  Mont. 
Were not this Marriage made in heaven by Fate,  
'Tis made in earth by Faith, to violate  
Which (Titiro) were rashly to profane  
The godhead of great Cynthia, in whose Fane  
The solemn oath was taken. Now how ready  
She is to wrath, and how incensed already  
Against this Country, thou art not to learn.  
But I profess, as far as I discern,  
And a Priest's mind rapt up above the sky  
Into th' eternal counsels there can pry,  
This knot by th' hand of Destiny was knit,  
And all those signs which should accompan' it  
(Have thou but Faith) will fall out jump and right  
In their due time. I'll tell thee more; this night  
I in my dream a certain thing have viewed,  
Which my old hopes hath more than ere renewed.  Tit. 
" Dreams are but dreams: but well, what didst thou view?  Mont. 
Thou dost remember, I presume (for who  
Amongst us all is such a stupid wight  
As to forget?) that lamentable night  
When swelling Ladon (weary of his yoke)  
The banks with his rebellious waters broke;  
So that where birds were wont to build their nests,  
Usurping fishes swam, and men, and beasts,  
And flocks, and herds promiscuously ta'en  
Th' impartial deluge swept into the Main.  
That very night (O bitter memory!)  
I lost my heart, or rather that which I  
More dearly prized, a child, a tender one  
In swathing bands, and then my only son.  
Both then and since (though he be dead) as deer  
To me, as if my only son he were:  
The cruel torrent ravished him away  
Before the people of the house (who lay  
In darkness, fear and sleep buried alive)  
With any timely succour could arrive:  
We could not find the empty cradle neither,  
But (as I guess) that and the child together  
Were swallowed by the flood.  Tit. 
What else can be  
Supposed? I think I've heard (perchance from thee)  
This loss of thine before, in very truth  
A miserable one, and full of ruth;  
And I may say, of thy two sons the Floods  
Have swallowed one, the other's lost i'th' Woods.  Mont. 
Perhaps kind heavens' in the surviving brother  
Will make me rich amends yet for the other:  
" 'Tis always good to hope. Now list me out:  
'Twas at the dawning of the morn, about  
That mongrel hour which gotten betwixt night  
And day, is half an Ethiop and half white,  
When having watched out all the night almost,  
With various fancies of this Marriage tossed,  
Quite overcome at length with weariness,  
A gentle slumber did mine eyes oppress,  
Which with it such a lively vision brought,  
That though I slept, I was awake. Me thought,  
On famed Alfeo's bank I angling sat  
Under a shady Beech, there came up straight  
A grave old man, down to the middle bare,  
His chin all dropping, and his grisled hair;  
Who with both hands, and countenance beni'ne  
Put a naked weeping infant into mine,  
Saying, Lo here thy Son, and take good heed  
Thou kill him not; then dived into the reed.  
With that, black clouds obscured the Heavens round,  
And threatening me with a dire tempest, frowned.  
I to my bosom clapped the babe for fear,  
And cried, Shall then one hour both give and bear  
Away my joy? Straight all the welkin turned  
Serene, and thunderbolts to ashes burned  
Fell hissing in the River, with bows broken  
And shafts by thousands, signs which did betoken  
Extinguished vengeance; then a shrill voice broke  
From the rived Beech, which in his tongue thus spoke,  
Believe Montano, and thy hope still nourish,  
Thy fair Arcadia once again shall flourish.  
So ever since in my eyes, mind, and breast  
The pleasing figure of this dream's impressed,  
Standing before me still in every place;  
But above all, the courteous mien and face  
Of that old man (me thinks I see him wet)  
Which made me coming now, when thee I met,  
Directly to the Temple, there with pure  
And holy Sacrifice my Dream t' insure.  Tit. 
" Truly Montano, Dreams are Histories  
" Of what is past, rather than Prophecies  
" Of what's to come: Mere fragments of some sight,  
" Or thought of the past day, which prints at night  
" A vain reflection of itself, like those  
" Which in a cloud the Sun opposed shows.  Mont. 
" Not always with the senses sleeps the soul:  
" Rather when she is free from all control  
" Of cozening forms, which do the senses blind,  
" Whilst they're asleep, more wakeful is the mind.  Tit. 
In short: how heavens' have destined to dispose  
Of our two children, neither of us knows.  
But this is clear to both of us, thine flies,  
And against Nature's law, doth Love's despise.  
And mine (as 't proves) is tied; herself yet hath  
No benefit of her engaged faith.  
Nor do I know whether she love or no:  
That she makes others love, full well I know;  
And can I think it probable that she  
Should others wound, and go herself still free?  
Me thinks of late she's altered in her cheer,  
Who used all Mirth and Jollity t' appear.  
" But to put Maids in mind of marrying,  
" And then not marry them, is an ill thing.  
" As in a curious garden a fair Rose,  
" Which (cloistered up in leaves) did late repose  
" Under the sable canopy of night  
" Upon its mother-stalk, with the first light  
" Raises its head, then opes its tender eye,  
" Whence whispering Bees suck Nectar as they fly;  
" Than to the Sun which on its form doth gaze,  
" Its purple and perfumed breast displays:  
" But if it be not gathered then, and stay  
" Till it be kissed by the Meridian Ray,  
" Before the Sun to th' other world be fled,  
" Upon its mourning stalk it hangs the head;  
" So pale, so shrunk, so without life it shows,  
" That one can hardly say, This was a Rose.  
" So a young Virgin, whilst her Mother's care  
" Shuts and preserves her from the blasting air,  
" Shuts her own bosom too against desire:  
" But if she find some amorous youth to eye her,  
" And hears him sigh, she opes him straight her heart,  
" And in her tender breast receives Love's dart.  
" Then if by fear, or else by maiden shame,  
" She be withheld from showing of her flame,  
" (Poor soul!) Concealment like a worm i'th' bud,  
" Lies in her Damask cheek sucking the blood:  
" So all her beauty's gone, if that fire last,  
" And all her Lovers when her Beauty's past.  Mont. 
Take courage Titiro; do not embase  
Thy soul with mortal fears, but nobly place  
Thy hopes above;" Heaven favours a strong faith,  
" And a faint prayer near clomb that arduous path.  
" And if all men should pray to Heaven at need,  
" And pray with hope, much more should heavens' own  
Our children's Pedigree it is Divine,  
" And Heaven that shines on all, will surely shine  
" On its own Progeny. Come Titiro,  
Together to the Temple let us go,  
Together offer, thou a hee-goat there,  
To PAN, and I to HERCULES a Steer.  
" The Gods who bless the herds, will bless no less  
" Them, who the Gods do with those blessings bless.  
Trusty Dametas go, and quickly cull  
From my fair herd the best and gentlest Bull,  
And bring him to me to the Temple straight;  
Come by the hill, the nearest way is that.  Tit. 
And good Dametas, from my herd bring one  
Of the best Goats.  Dam. 
Both shall with speed be done.  
May the high Gods pleased in their goodness be  
To bless (Montano) this thy Dream to thee,  
Even to thy utmost wish: this memory  
Of thy lost son is a good augury.   

Scena quinta.  satire. 
" AS frosts to Plants, to ripened Ears a storm,  
" To Flowers the midday sun, to Seed the worm,  
" To Stags the toils, to Birds the lime-twig; so  
" Is Love to man an everlasting Foe.  
And he that called it fire pierced well into  
Its treacherous nature; for if fire thou view,  
How bright and beautiful it is? Approached,  
How warm and comfortable? But then touched,  
O how it burns! The monster-bearing earth  
Did never teem such a prodigious birth:  
It cuts like razors, like wild beasts devours,  
And through a wood like winged lightning scowrs.  
Where-ere it fixes its imperious foot,  
Cottage and Palace, all must yield unto 't:  
So Love, if thou behold it in a pair  
Of starry eyes, in a bright tress of hair,  
How temptingly it looks! what kindly flames  
It breathes! what peace, what pardons it proclaims!  
But in thy bosom if thou do it keep,  
So that it gather strength, and begin to creep,  
No Tigress in Hyrcanian mountains nursed,  
No Lybian Lioness is half so cursed,  
Nor frozen Snake fostered with humane breath.  
His flames are hot as hell, bonds strong as death;  
He is Wrath's hangman, pity's enemy,  
And to conclude, Love void of love. But why  
Accuse I him? Is he the Author then  
Of all those pranks which mortal wights, not when  
They are in love, but out of their wits, do?  
Women, perfidious women, 'tis to you  
That I impute Love's rancour; all that's naught  
In him from you is by infection caught.  
He of himself is good, meek as the Dove  
That draws the chariot of the Queen of Love:  
But you have made him wild; for though ye joy  
With your own hands to feed the winged Boy,  
Yet do you shut each poor so of your breast,  
That in your hearts He cannot build his nest.  
And all your care, pride, pleasure ye do place  
In the mere outside of a simpering face.  
Nor is 't your study how to pay true love,  
And wager whether shall more constant prove;  
To bind two souls in one, and of one heart  
To make the other but the counterpart;  
But how your silver hair with gold to hatch,  
Then purse it up into a net, to catch  
Poor souls withal, and like gold valence let  
Some curls hang dangling o'er your brows of jet.  
How much against my stomach doth it go  
To see you paint your cheeks, to cover so  
The faults of Time and Nature! How ye make  
Pale Feulemort a pure Vermilian take,  
Fill up the wrinkles, die black white, a spot  
With a spot hide, where 'tis, make 't where 'tis not.  
You tie a thread across, whereof one end  
Held in your teeth, the other is sustained  
By your left hand, whilst of the running knot  
Your right hand makes a noose to ope and shut  
Like shaving tongs: This instrument you fit  
To your rough downy foreheads, and with it  
Shave all the down, and the wild hairs which shoot▪  
Above their fellows, pull up by the root;  
And all the while such torment you are in,  
That 'tis at once a penance and a sin.  
Nor is this all; your qualities are much  
After your faces, and your faith is such  
As are your works. For what is there in you  
That is not counterfeit and painted too?  
Do your lips ope? before ye speak ye lie;  
And if ye sigh, ye lie most damnably.  
False lights your eyes are, and false weights your ears;  
Your hearts false measures, and false pearl your tears:  
So talk, or look, or think, or laugh, or cry,  
Seem or seem not, walk, stand, or sit, ye lie.  
Nay, there's more yet, your cozening those  
Most who on you do most repose;  
Your loves most those who do least love you,  
And choosing to die rather than be true;  
These are the arts, these are the ways  
That make Love hateful in our days.  
All his faults than we may most justly lay  
On you; or rather on ourselves: for they  
Sin that believe you. Then the fault's in me  
(Perjured Corisca) who did credit thee;  
Come hither only for my bane (I think)  
From Argos wicked streets, of vice the sink.  
Yet thouart so fly, and play'st so well the Scout,  
To keep thy deeds and thoughts from tracing out,  
That 'mongst the chastest Dames thou jettst it now,  
With honesty stamped on thy haughty brow:  
What scorns have I received, what discontent  
From this ungrateful woman! I repent,  
Yea, blush I was so fond. Example take  
By me, unskilful Lovers, how ye make  
" An Idol of a face, and take't for granted,  
" There's no such devil as a woman sainted.  
" She thinks her wit and beauty without peer,  
" And o'er thy slavish soul doth domineer  
" Like some great Goddess, counting thou wert born  
" (As a thing mortal) only for her scorn;  
" Takes all that praise as tribute of her merit.  
" Which is the flattery of thy abject spirit.  
Why so much serving? so much admirations?  
Such sighs, such tears, such humble supplications?  
These are the woman's arms: Let us express  
Even in our Love's valour and manliness.  
Time was when I (as lusty as I am)  
Thought tears and sighs could woman's heart inflame.  
But now I find I erred; for if she bears  
A stony heart, in vain are sighs and tears.  
We must strike fire out of her breast by dint  
Of steel: what fool used bellows to a flint?  
Leave, leave thy tears and sighs, if thou wouldst make  
A conquest of thy Dame; and if thou bake  
Indeed with unextinguishable fire,  
In thy heart's centre smother thy desire  
The best thou canst, and watch thy time to do  
That which both Love and Nature prompt thee to,  
" For Modesties the charter of the woman,  
" Who will not have her privilege made common;  
" Nor though she uses it herself with men,  
" Would she have them to use't with her agent  
" Being a virtue for the admiration  
" Of them that court her, not their imitation.  
This is the plain and natural way of Love,  
Indeed the only one that I approve.  
My coy Corisca shall not find of me  
A bashful Lover (as I used to be)  
But a bold Foe, and she shall feel I can  
Assault her with the weapons of a man,  
as well as with the woman's arms. Twice now  
I've caught this Eel, and yet I know not how  
She hath slipped through my hands; but if she come  
A third time near my boat, I'll strike so home  
Through both her gills, that I shall mar her flight  
Here she comes forth to Rellief every night,  
And I like a good hound snuff round about  
To find her tract: If I do sent her out,  
Have at her coat; O how I mean to be  
Revenged upon her! I will make her see  
That Love sometimes (though he appear stark blind)  
Can from his eyes the handkerchief unbind:  
And that no woman (though she may a while)  
Can glory long in perjury and guile.  

CHORUS.  
O Powerful Law! which Heaven or Nature,  
Writ in the Heart of every Creature.  
Whose amiable violence,  
And pleasing rapture of the sense  
Doth bias all things to that good  
Which we desire not understood.  
Nor the exterior bark alone  
Subject to th' sense of every one,  
Whose frail materials quickly must  
Resolve again into their dust;  
But the hid seeds and inward cause,  
Whose substance is eternal, moves and draws.  
And if the ever-teeming world bring forth  
So many things of admirable worth,  
If whatsoever Heaven's great eyes  
The Sun and Moon, or his small spies  
The Stars behold, doth own a soul  
Whose active power informs the whole;  
If thence all humane seed have birth,  
All plants and Animals; if th' earth  
Be green, or on her wrinkled brow it snows,  
From that immortal and pure Spring it flows.  
Nor this alone: On mortal Crown  
whatever restless Spheres roll down;  
Whence all our actions guided are  
By a happy or unhappy Star;  
Whence our frail lives their cue receive  
This Stage to enter, and to leave.  
whatever thwarts, whatever stills  
Our froward, and our childish wills  
(Which seeming to be Fortune's Play  
To give, and take our things away,  
The world ascribes to her) hath All  
From that high virtue its original.  
Soul of the World: if it were thou didst say  
Arcadia should have rest and peace one day,  
And like a snake renew her youth,  
What man dares question so divine a truth?  
If what the famous Oracle  
Of two whom Fate should couple did foretell,  
It spoke but as thy mouth, if fixed it be  
In the eternal depth of thy Decree,  
And if the Tripods do not falsehoods vent,  
Ah! who retards thy wills accomplishment?  
Behold, a scornful boy, a foe  
To Love and Beauty: He (although  
Extract from Heaven) with Heaven contends!  
Behold another youth offends  
In love as much, (in vain deserving  
To be preferred for humbly serving)  
And with his flame thwarts thy Decree!  
And the less hope he hath to see  
His service and his true love's hire,  
The clearer burns his faith and fire;  
And he now for that Beauty dies,  
Which t'other (whom 'tis kept for) doth despise.  
Is jove divided then about his doom?  
Hath doubtful Fate twins struggling in her womb?  
Or doth man's mountain-hope, unleveld yet,  
New impious Giants in rebellion set  
On both sides to assault the tower of jove,  
By loving, and by shunning Love?  
Have we such strength? and o'er the Powers above  
Shall two blind Powers triumph, Disdain, and Love?  
But thou high Mover of the Orb, that rid'st  
The Stars and Fate, and with thy Wisdom guid'st  
Their course, look down upon our tottering State,  
And reconcile Disdain and Love with Fate.  
That ice, this flame, thaw, quench with heavenly dew,  
Make one not fly, another not pursue.  
Ah! let not two men's obstinacy stand  
Betwixt thy promised mercy and a Land.  
And yet who knows? what we imagine is  
Our greatest cross, may prove our greatest bliss.  
" If on the Sun no humane eye can gaze,  
" Who then can pierce into Jove's hidden ways?     

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  ERGATSO, MIRTILLO. Erg. 
O What a walk have I had! At the Race,  
The Mead, Hill, River, Fountain, wrestling Place  
I've been to seek thee: Heaven be praised, at last  
I've found thee here.  Mir. 
What news requires such haste?  
Bringst thou me life or death?  Erg. 
The lasts a thing,  
Which if I had for thee, I would not bring:  
The former, though I have not for thee yet,  
I hope to bring. But why art thou ore-set  
With thy own sighs? If thou wouldst overcome  
Another, overcome thyself at home:  
Breathe, and revyed again—. But to proceed  
To that which made me seek thee with such speed;  
The matter's this: Know'st thou (who doth not know?)  
Ormino's Sister? rather tall than low  
She is of stature, cherry-cheeked, her hair  
Inclined to red, and of a sprightly air.  Mirt. 
What is her name?  Erg. 
Corisca.  Mir. 
Yes, I do  
Know her, and have conversed with her too.  Erg. 
Know then that she (see the good luck on't! What  
hath been the means to work it I know not,  
Or on whose score it comes) is grown of late  
With Amarillis very intimate.  
Which I perceiving, a relation made  
Of thy affection unto her, and prayed  
Both her assistance and her secrecy  
Therein, which she accorded readily.  Mirt. 
O blessed a thousand thousand times and more  
Than all (Mirtillo) that ere loved before,  
If this be true: But prithee, did she say  
Nothing at all unto thee of the way?  Erg. 
Nothing as yet, and I will tell thee why:  
Corisca said, she could not certainly  
Determine of the way till she might know  
Some circumstances of thy love, that so  
She might be better able to discern  
The inclination of the Nymph, and learn  
How to address herself, with subtlety,  
Or with entreaties; what 'twere best to try,  
Or what to leave: This was the cause made me  
To come so hastily in search of thee.  
Therefore from first to last thou shalt do well  
Thy Love's whole story unto me to tell.  Mirt. 
I'll do it. But know Friend, to stir again  
The bitter memory of Love in vain,  
Is like the tossing of a torch about  
One's head i'th' air, thinking to shake it out,  
When agitation kindles it, and makes  
The flame cling faster to the melting wax.  
Or like the tugging of a deep-fixt dart,  
By which the wound's made greater, and the smart.  
Most true it is, I shall a tale relate  
Which will demonstrate the unsure estate  
Of Lovers hopes, and that howe'er the root  
Of Love be sweet, it bears a bitter fruit.  
In that fair season when Day's wheels outrun  
The Night's ('twas just a twelvemonth since) this Sun  
Of Beauty, this fair Pilgrim came to bring  
With her approach as 'twere a second Spring  
To my then only rich and happy nest,  
Elis and Pisa with her presence blessed;  
Brought by her Mother in those solemn days  
When Sacrifices and Olympic Plays  
Through all the world so famous are kept there  
In honour of the mighty Thunderer.  
Shows worthy sure of those fair eyes; But those  
Fair eyes themselves were far the worthier shows.  
Whence I, who till that instant never knew  
What flames of Love did mean, at the first view  
Of those bright lamps, yielded, and never fought  
One stroke against her; for I felt (me thought)  
Two fiery balls fly whizzing through my liver  
And Beauty (a bold thief) cried Stand, Deliver  
Thy heart, Mirtillo.  Erg. 
O Love's piercing steel,  
Which they alone can understand that feel!  Mir. 
But now to see what cunning Love suggests  
Even to the youngest and the simplest breasts!  
I made a deer young Sister of mine own  
(Who was my cruel Nymph's companion  
Whilst she in Elis and in Pisa stayed)  
Acquainted with my pain. This silly maid  
Was all the council Love allotted me  
For managing my amorous business: she  
With her own garments decks me in great order,  
And imps my short hair with a borrowed border,  
Then braids it all with flowers, hanging a bow  
And Quiver by my side, and last doth show  
How I should frame my words and countenance, where  
No footsteps of a beard did then appear.  
The hour approached, she conducted me  
Where my Nymph used to play; and there found we  
Some Noble Megarensian Maids, whom Blood  
And Love linked to her, as I understood.  
'Mongst them was she like Royal Rose 'mongst low-  
Born Violets: And when as they had so  
For a good space without more pastime stayed,  
A Megarensian Virgin rose, and said;  
What, at a time for Pastime so renowned  
Shall we without our sports be idle found!  
And have not (Sisters) we our weapons then  
To make mock-fights withal as well as men?  
By my advice we'll practise our arms now  
Against ourselves in jest, as we must do  
In earnest one day against men: Let's kiss,  
And wage a kissing war; and she that gi's  
The best and sav'rest one, shall have for meed  
This curious wreath. All laughed, and cried Agreed.  
Forthwith, not staying for the word or sign,  
These eager Amazons in battle join:  
No ranks they kept, no colours knew, nor side,  
But all confused, and each each defied.  
The Megarensian this perceiving, straight  
To the disordered Troops sounds a retreat;  
And after saith; Let her deservedly  
The Judge of all our kisses be  
Whose mouth is fairest. With one voice  
Of peerless Amarillis they made choice.  
She sweetly bending her fair eyes,  
Her cheeks in modest blushes dies,  
To show through her transparent skin  
That she is no less fair within  
Then she's without; or else her countenance  
Envying the honour done her mouth perchance,  
Puts on her scarlet robes, as who  
Should say, And am not I fair too?  Erg. 
Blessed man to be transformed at such a time,  
As if this accident thou couldst divine!  Mirt. 
The fair Judge takes her seat, and now renews  
The amorous fight, according to the use  
Of war; by lots they march up one by one,  
To try their mouths by hers (the Paragon  
Of sweetness) or (as I may term it well)  
Of orient pearls a perfumed Indian shell,  
And the two lips a two-leaved Coral door  
With honeyed lock, to ope and shut with more  
Facility upon the pearly treasure.  
O my Ergast ' that I could tell the pleasure  
Of those sweet kisses! But do thou hence guess it,  
That mouth which tasted it, cannot express it.  
Extract then all the sweetness which remains  
In Hybla-combs, in Cyprian Sugarcanes,  
It will be nothing to that world of blisses  
I sucked from thence.  Erg. 
O happy theft! sweet kisses!  Mirt. 
Sweet, but yet lame; the better half was missing,  
The soul which gives perfection to kissing:  
For though Love gave them, Love restored them not.  Erg. 
But hadst thou not some fear when 'twas thy lot  
To kiss?  Mirt. 
My heart (Ergasto) to say true,  
Was at my mouth, and my soul shrunk into  
A narrow volume; 'twas one kiss, whence all  
My limbs stood tottering like an ill propped wall.  
And when I came under the battery,  
And within aim of her sure killing eye,  
I feared the Majesty of that bright look,  
Lest in the very act I should be took  
Of theft and guile which I was then about.  
But straight her countenance clearing me that doubt  
By a serene and unsuspecting smile,  
I ventured boldly on. Love stood the while  
(Ergasto) like a Bee hid in the leaves  
Of her lips Roses; and whilst she receives  
The kisses of my mouth with hers unmoved  
And passive, I the honey only proved.  
But when she active likewise grows,  
And thrusts out this and t'other rose,  
(Whether her gaiety of heart it was,  
Or my good luck, for 'twas not love alas)  
When our two mouths snapped like a bone well set,  
And like two tallies that are brothers met,  
(O my dear sweet and numerous treasure!  
Do I out live so great a pleasure?)  
Then, than I felt the sharp sweet dart,  
The amorous sting piercing my heart.  
Which was (it seems) restored me then,  
That I might have it hurt again.  
I then, as soon as I had found  
Her lips had given me my death's wound,  
Was ready, like some desperate gasping wight,  
The weapon which had wounded me to bite:  
When suddenly her sweet breath, like the blast  
Of an inspiring Deity, did cast  
An holy damp upon my saucy blood,  
Which all immodest and wild heat withstood.  Erg. 
O Modesty, the block and Remora  
Which ever lies in the true Lover's way!  Mirt. 
Now all of them had had their turns, and come  
With thoughts suspended to attend the doom,  
When Amarillis judging mine t'exceed  
All th'other's kisses, placed the Victor's meed  
(That curious wreath) with her own snowy hand  
Upon my head. But O! no Lybian sand  
Beneath the Syrian dog ere broiled so much,  
When he both barks and bites; his rage is such,  
As my whole heart was then on fire  
Betwixt fruition and desire.  
And (being never conquered half so much  
As when I was a conqueror) such  
My boldness was, that from my head  
I reached the wreath to her, and sed,  
This is thy due, for thee 'tis meet,  
Who with thy mouth hast made my kisses sweet.  
And she most courteously accepting it,  
For her fair hair made it a Coronet,  
And crowned mine with another, which before  
Upon her own divine temples she wore:  
Which is the same I now do bear, and shall  
(Heaven willing) to my Funeral,  
Withered as 'tis, to keep in memory  
That happy day; but most to signify  
My withered hopes.  Erg. 
Thy case doth pity, and not envy claim,  
Mirtillo: or hereafter let thy name  
" Be Tantalus, for he that jests with Love,  
" Or plays with fire, shall pain in earnest prove.  
Poor youth! thou took'st up transitory treasure  
At too much use, and of thy theft the pleasure  
And punishment together didst receive.  
But did she never the deceit perceive?  Mirt. 
I know not that, Ergasto; this I do,  
Whilst she thought Elis worthy of her view,  
She was still bounteous to me of her eye,  
And gracious smiles. But my hard destiny  
Snatching her thence, unwares to me almost,  
I straight came flying hither, where thou know'st  
My Father, though he sojourned long abroad,  
Yet still retains his wonted poor abode.  
I came and saw (O sight!) my day begun  
In such a fair and smiling morn, now run  
To its long West. When I appeared in place  
The lightning of disdain flashed in her face;  
Then did she bend her eyes, and turned away,  
These Meteor's bode my death, than did I lay.  
Mean while, that I should so by stealth depart,  
My tender Father took deeply to heart;  
And with the grief on't an infirmity  
So terrible, that he was like to die.  
This forced me back, which proved (alas) in one  
Health to the Father, sickness to the Son.  
For half a year of a Love-caused fever  
I languished, and I think had languished ever,  
If my indulgent Father had not sought  
In time the Tripods' Counsel; whence he brought  
This Answer, That th' Arcadian air alone  
Could make me well again. I thereupon  
Returned (Ergasto) to revisit her  
(O fallacy of that grand Sophister,  
The Oracle!) who made my body whole  
To cause eternal sickness in my soul.  Erg. 
Thou hast related a strange tale in truth,  
Mirtillo, a case worthy of much ruth  
Without all doubt." But oft a desperate state  
" Hath proved the cause that cures as desperate  
" Have saved the sick. And now 'tis time I go  
To tell Corisca what from thee I know;  
Expect me at the Fountain, there will I  
Ere long be with thee.  Mirt. 
Go on prosperously:  
And Heaven at need that pity show to thee  
(Courteous Ergasto) which thou showst to me.   

Scena secunda.  DORINDA, LUPINO, SILVIO. She bringing in Silvio's Dog. Dor. 
FAithfull and fortunate, delight and care  
Of my fair Silvio, and as proud as fair.  
Thrice fortunate Melampo, that I were  
Unto thy cruel Master half so dear!  
With that white hand with which he gripes my heart,  
He strokes and he feeds thee. He doth not part  
From thee by night, nor part from thee by day;  
Whilst I that so much love him, in vain prey,  
And sigh in vain. And that which worse I bear  
Then all the rest, he gives to thee such deer  
And luscious kisses, one of which would make  
Me rich, and I too kiss thee for his sake  
Happy Melamp '; O dog sent from above  
To steer the erring footsteps of blind Love!  
Lead on, sure guide, whither Affection me,  
But Nature only, and Instinct draws thee.  
But list a little, doth not a horn blow  
In this near thicket?  Sil. 
Sogh Melampo, Sogh!  Dor. 
That is (if Love delude me not) the sound  
Of Silvio's voice, who seems to call his hound  
About these woods.  Sil. 
Melampo, Sogh, hogh, hogh.  Dor. 
It is the very voice of Silvio.  
Happy Dorinda, to whom Heaven hath sent  
The self same thing in search whereof I went!  
I'll hide the dog; with that he holds so dear  
I may chance buy his love. Lupino!  Lup. 
Here.  Dor. 
Go take this dog, and hide thee hereabout:  
Conceivest thou me?  Lup. 
I do.  Dor. 
But come not out  
Until I call.  Lup. 
I won't.  Dor. 
Nay, quickly man.  Lup. 
And do thou quickly take some order than,  
That if the dog should have a hungry fit,  
He may not swallow me up at a bit.  Dor. 
A Coward? Hence.  Sil. 
O whither shall I steer  
My wretched steps to follow thee my deer  
Faithful Melampo? over hill and plain  
Till I am tired and foundered I in vain  
Have hunted for thee. Cursed be the Do  
Thou follow'dst. But behold, a Nymph may know  
Some news of him! O vile encounter! This  
Is she, who with her importunities  
Torments me still: but there's no remedy  
Save patience now. Fair Nymph, didst thou see my  
Faithful Melampo, whom I slipped while-ere  
After a do?  Dor. 
I (Silvio) fair? I fair?  
Why dost thou call me fair, if that I be  
Not fair in thy eyes?  Sil. 
Fair or fowl, didst see  
My dog? Answer me that: if not, I go.  Dor. 
So harsh to her adores thee, Silvio?  
Who would believe in that sweet shape could nest  
So sour a soul? Thou follow'st a wild beast  
That flies thee, over rocks; and for a cur  
Vexest thy body and thy mind: but her  
That follows thee, and thy content doth prize  
Above the world, thou fliest and dost despise.  
Ah! do not follow a wild flying do,  
Let not a tame one (caught already) go.  
Do not unbind her.  Sil. 
Nymph, I came in search  
Of my Melampo, not to hear thee preach.  
Adieu.  Dor. 
O fly not, cruel Silvio:  
I'll tell thee news of thy Melampo.  Sil. 
Go,  
Thou mockest, Dorinda▪  Dor. 
By that love I swear  
That makes me Silvio's servant, I know where  
He is. Thou sayst he did a do pursue?  Sil. 
He did: and straight I lost them both from view.  Dor. 
The Dog and Do then at this present time  
Are in my power.  Sil. 
In thy power?  Dor. 
Yes, in mine.  
'Twas that I said: Dost thou think much that she  
Should love thy Dog (ungrateful) who loves thee?  Sil. 
My deer Dorinda, give 'em to me straight,  Dor. 
Out Shuttlecock, I'm come to a fine state  
When beasts endeer me to thee. But indeed  
(My heart) thou gettst them not without some meed.  Sil. 
And reason good, I'll give thee; Let me see—  
(I'll cousin her).  Dor. 
What wilt thou give to me?  Sil. 
Two fair Queen-apples I will give to thee,  
Which my own fairer Mother gave to me  
The other day.  Dor. 
For apples, I want none:  
I could give thee two fairer of my own,  
And sweeter too, but that thou carest not  
For what I give.  Sil. 
Then wouldst thou have a goat?  
Or Lambkin? (but my Father will not let  
Me make so bold with what is his as yet.)  Dor. 
Nor Goat, nor Lambkin do I care to have:  
Thee only, Silvio, and thy love I crave.  Sil. 
My love? No more?  Dor. 
No more.  Sil. 
I g'it thee: so,  
Give me my Dog (dear Nymph) now, and my do.  Dor. 
Ah, that thou knewst the worth of what thou art  
So bounteous of, and spak'st now from thy heart!  Sil. 
Nymph, mark my words: I find thou talk'st to me  
Still of a thing called Love; what this should be  
I know not: thou wouldst have me love thee; and  
I do (as far as I can understand)  
With all my heart: thou call'st me cruel; I  
Am ignorant of what is cruelty.  
How should I please thee?  Dor. 
In whom hop'st thou, poor  
Dorinda? whence dost thou expect thy cure?  
From such a Beauty as hath felt as yet  
No spark of that which doth all Lovers set  
On fire? Art thou my flame, and art not hot?  
Dost thou breath Love, and what it is know'st not?  
That gentle Goddess whom the Cyprians honour  
Took a most beauteous humane shape upon her  
To bring thee forth: Firebrands thou hast and dart,  
Witness my flaming and my bleeding heart.  
Add wings, another Cupid thou wilt prove,  
At least want nothing to be Love, but love.  Sil. 
What is this Love?  Dor. 
When I behold thy eyes,  
It is the light of Paradise.  
But mine own heart considered well,  
It is the very fire of hell.  Sil. 
Nymph, what a prating is here with thee?  
Give me my Dog and Do, now prithee.  Dor. 
Give me the love first that I bargained for.  Sil. 
Have I not gi'n it thee? Fie, what a stir  
There is to please this woman! Take it: do  
What thou wilt with it. Who forbids thee? who  
Withholds it? On what trifles dost thou stand?  Dor. 
Wretched Dorinda, thou dost sow the sand,  
And fondly undertakest labour in vain.  Sil. 
What dreamest thou of? why hold'st thou me in pain?  Dor. 
When thy desire's once granted, thou wilt go  
And leave me straight, perfidious Silvio.  Sil. 
No  
Indeed, fair Nymph.  Dor. 
Give me a pawn then.  Sil. 
Name  
The pawn.  Dor. 
Alas! I dare not.  Silu. 
Why?  Dor. 
For shame.  Sil. 
But how then can I give it thee?  Dor. 
I would  
Fain without naming it be understood.  Sil. 
If thouart ashamed to name it, thou mayst be  
Ashamed to take it.  Dor. 
Promise it to me,  
And I will name it.  Sil. 
I do promise it:  
But thou must name it first.  Dor. 
Canst thou not hit  
My thoughts then? I should have conceived thee  
If thou hadst said but half so much to me.  Sil. 
Thou hast more wit than I, Dorinda.  Dor. 
I  
Have more Love, Silvio, and less Cruelty.  Sil. 
Truth is, I am no witch: if thou'dst have me  
To understand thee, speak.  Dor. 
O misery!  
That which I beg of thee is one of those  
Things thy kind mother upon thee bestows.  Sil. 
A box o'th' ear?  Dor. 
To one's that loves thee so?  Sil. 
Those things my mother doth on me bestow.  Dor. 
Nay, that's not so: But doth not she give thee  
A Kiss sometimes?  Sil. 
She neither kisses me,  
Nor would have others kiss me. Is 't a Kiss  
Thou dost desire of me? It is, it is:  
Thy blush betrays thee. Come, I'll give it thee:  
But first my Dog and Do.  Dor. 
Dost promise me?  Sil. 
I promise thee.  Dor. 
And with me wilt thou stay?  Sil. 
Why dost thou vex me thus? Did I not say  
I would?  Dor. 
Come forth Lupino, dost not hear?  
Lupino.  Lup. 
Ogh! ogh! what a brawl's there?  
Who calls me? O I am come. It was not I  
That slept, it was the Dog slept verily.  Dor. 
Look Silvio, there's thy Dog, that might to thee  
Have read a lecture of Humanity.  Sil. 
How overjoyed am I?  Dor. 
Upon this breast  
Which thou despisest so he came to rest.  Sil. 
(O my sweet true Melampo.)  Dor. 
Setting by  
My sighs and kisses.  Sil. 
(I will certainly  
Kiss thee a thousand times, poor Cur! But hast  
Thou got no harm at all, thou ranst so fast?)  Dor. 
Fortunate Dog, that I might change (alas!)  
Estates with thee; I'm come to a fine pass  
To envy a Dog's life. Bend thou thy gate  
Homewards Lupino, I will follow straight.  Lup. 
Mistress, I go.   

Scena tertia.  Manent SILVIO, DORINDA. Sil. 
(IN fine, thoust got no harm.) Now let me see  
Where is this Do which thou hast promised me.  Dor. 
Alive or dead woul'dst have her?  Sil. 
Strange demand!  
Alive after the Dog hath killed her?  Dor. 
And  
If the Dog killed her not?  Sil. 
Alive is she?  Dor. 
Alive.  Sil. 
The dearer than the prey to me:  
And had my deer Melampo so much art  
As not to hurt her?  Dor. 
Only in the heart  
She had a little prick.  Sil. 
Either th'u'rt mad,  
Dorinda, or dost mock me. If she had  
A prick i'th' heart, how can she live?  Dor. 
The Do  
I speak of, I am, cruel Silvio:  
Hurt by thee, without being hunted; Take me,  
I am alive; but dead, if thou forsake me.  Sil. 
Is this that Do? that prey?  Dor. 
Even this: why now  
Art thou so discontented? Dost not thou  
Love a Nymph better than a beast?  Sil. 
My hate  
Thou art, brute, liar, vile, importunate.  Dor. 
Is this the guerdon, cruel Silvio?  
Is this the meed thou dost on me bestow,  
Ungrateful youth? Take thy Melampo free,  
And me and all, so thou come back to me:  
The rest I do remit. Let me be placed  
But in the sunshine thy fair eyes do cast.  
Truer than thy Melampo I will trace  
Thy steps, and when thouart wearied with the chase  
I'll wipe thy sweating brow, and on this breast  
(Which cannot rest for thee) thy head shall rest:  
I'll bear thy arrows, and thy quiver bear  
Through these rough woods; and if there want game there,  
Shoot at Dorinda's bosom. At this white  
Set thy good bow, when ere it shoots not right.  
For I'll be both the prey (if thou think fit)  
To keep in ure, and drudge to carry it;  
Thy arrows, quiver, and their Butt to hit.  
But to whom do I talk? Alas! to thee  
That hear'st me not, and fliest away from me?  
But wherefoe're thou fly (cursed Silvio)  
Dorinda will fly after thee: although  
To hell itself, if any hell there be  
Worse than my Love is, and thy Cruelty.   

Scena quarta.  CORISCA. 
FOrtune beyond my wish hath favoured me:  
" And fit it is that they should favoured be  
" Who not with wish only seek her favour.  
" Powerful she is; and men with reason have her  
" In reputation of a Goddess. But  
" We must go meet her then, wait a foot  
" To find her humours; and must use our own  
" Judgement in playing of our game; a drone  
" Seldom or never doth prove fortunate.  
Had not my industry made me the Mate  
Of her by whom under the name of friend  
I have fit means and safe to work my end,  
Where had I been? Some fool would now be shy,  
And view her Rival with a jealous eye,  
Bearing the open tokens of ill will  
Writ in her forehead; and she would do ill:  
" For open foes are easier to evade  
" Than ambushes that are in friendship laid.  
" Wise Mariners by rocks hid in the sea  
" Are oft deceived: She knows not how to be  
" An enemy, that knows not how to seem  
" A friend. Corisca's skill shall now be seen  
In both: Nor am I yet so simply dull  
To think she doth not love. Well may she gull  
Others with this, not me; who am gone out  
A Mistress in the Art. A tender sprout  
New peeped out of the bark, within whose breast  
There's built for Love already a soft nest,  
Long wooed, and wooed by so complete a Lover,  
And (which is worst) kissed too over and over,  
And yet hold tyte? Believe't (for me) that list.  
But my good Genius doth me assist;  
For look if Amarillis come not here  
As sent? I'll walk as if I did not see her.   

Scena quinta.  AMARILLIS, CORISCA. Am. 
DEar happy Groves, and you ye solitary  
And silent horrors where true peace doth tarry,  
With how much joy do I review you? And  
Had my stars pleased to give me the command  
Over myself, that I might choose my lot,  
And my own way of life, then would I not  
For the Elisians groves, about which range  
The happy shades, your happy shades exchange.  
" For what we foolish mortals Goods do call  
" If rightly understood, are Evils all.  
" He that hath most of them, in truth hath least,  
" Nor is so much possessor, as possessed;  
" Not riches, no, but of our freedom snares.  
" What boots it in the spring-time of one's years  
" To have the Attributes of Fair and Good,  
" In mortal veins to lock celestial blood,  
" Graces of body and of mind, here fair  
" And laughing fields of corn, rich meadows there,  
" In fruitful pasture-grounds more fruitful flocks,  
" If with all these the heart contentment lacks?  
Happy that shepherdess whom some course stuff  
Obscurely clothes, yet clean and just enough!  
Rich only in herself, and bravely dressed  
With Nature's ornaments which are the best;  
Who in sweet poverty no want doth know,  
Nor the distractions which from riches grow:  
Yet whatsoever may suffice the mind,  
In that estate abundantly doth find:  
Poor, but content! with Nature's gifts retrives  
The gifts of Nature, Milk with milk revives,  
And with the sweet which from the Bee she gets,  
Seasons the honey of her native sweets:  
One fountain is her looking glass, her drink  
Her bath; and if she's pleased, what others think  
It matters not; she heeds not blazing stars  
That threaten mighty ones: wars or no wars,  
It is all one to her; her battlement  
And shield is that she's poor: Poor, but content!  
One only care ('tis a sweet care) doth keep  
Her heart awake; she feeds her Master's sheep  
With pearled grass, and with her lovely eyes  
Some honest swain, that for her beauty dies:  
Not such as men or Gods choose to her hand,  
But such as Love did to her choice commend;  
And in some favoured shady Myrtle grove  
Desires, and is desired: Nor feels of Love  
One spark which unto him she doth not show,  
Nor shows one spark with which he doth not glow.  
Poor, but content! True life! which till the breath  
Forsakes the body, know'st not what is death.  
Would Heaven had made me such a one!— But see,  
Corisca! Sweet Corisca.  Cor. 
Who calls me?  
My Amarillis? dearer than mine own  
Eyes, or life to me, whither so alone?  Am. 
No farther than thou seest; nor anywhere  
Could I be better, since I weet thee here.  Cor. 
Thou hast met her that never parts from thee,  
Sweet Amarillis; and now, credit me,  
Was thinking of thee, saying in my heart,  
If I'm her soul, how can she live apart  
From me? When straight I saw thee here:— but go,  
Thou carest not for Corisca now.  Am. 
Why so?  Cor. 
Why? Dost thou ask the question? thou dost wed  
To day.  Am. 
I wed?  Cor. 
Yes: and thou keep'st it hid  
From me.  Am. 
How can I tell thee that which I  
Am ignorant myself of?  Cor. 
Do, deny,  
And wear a mask to me.  Am. 
Still jest with me Corisca.  Cor. 
I am jested with by thee.  Am. 
But speak'st thou this for truth?  Cor. 
I'll swear 'tis so.  
And know'st thou nothing of't indeed?  Am. 
I know  
I'm promised: but that I should be a wife  
So soon, is news to me upon my life.  
But from whom know'st it thou?  Cor. 
From my own Brother  
Ormino: and he says, there is no other  
Discourse abroad.— Thou seem'st perplexed: is this  
News to perplex one?  Am. 
O Corisca! 'Tis  
A hideous gulf: I've heard my mother say,  
W''re then new born.  Cor. 
Most true: 'tis our birth day  
T' a better life, therefore rejoice. Dost fetch  
A sigh? leave sighing to that wretch.  Am. 
What wretch  Cor. 
Mirtillo: who was present casually  
At what my brother told me, and was nigh  
Struck dead with grief; and doubtless he had died,  
If a good cordial I had not applied,  
By promising to break this Match. Which though  
I said, only to comfort him, I know  
(If need were) how to do't.  Am. 
Canst thou tell  
How to break this Match?  Cor. 
Yes very well.  Am. 
I prithee how?  Cor. 
With ease, if thou wert but  
Consenting likewise, and assisting to't.  Am. 
Could I suppose this possible, and thou  
Wouldst not reveal it, I would tell thee now  
A secret that hath long burnt in my heart.  Cor. 
Who, I reveal it? Let the earth first part  
And swallow me alive miraculously.  Am. 
Know then Corisca, when I think that I  
Must all my life be subject to a Boy  
That hates and flies me, and doth take no joy  
But in the woods, preferring hunting far  
Before the love of all the Nymphs that are,  
It makes me male content, and desperate  
Indeed almost, although I dare not say 't,  
Because my faith I have already given  
Unto my Father, and (what's worse) to Heaven,  
And break with them I neither will nor may.  
But if thy industry can find a way  
(Always provided, that my Honesty,  
My Faith, my Life, and my Religion be  
Preserved) t'untie this knot that galls me so,  
To thee my life and safety I shall owe.  Cor. 
If this were it that caused thy sighing, thou  
Hadst great cause for it Amarillis. How  
Oft have I said? What pity 'tis to throw  
So rich a thing to one that scorns it so!  
A pearl t' a swine! why speak'st not to thy Father?  Am. 
Shame stops my mouth.  Cor. 
There's a disease! I'd rather  
For my part have a Fistula, or Fever.  
" But 'twill be cured; O'ercome it once, 'twill never  
" Return again.  Am. 
That cannot be o'ercome  
" That's natural: For if I drive it from  
" My heart, it flies into my face.  Cor. 
Alas,  
(My Amarillis) oft it comes to pass,  
" She that through too much wisdom holds her tongue,  
" Roars out at last like mad, being throughly stung.  
Hadst thou before been willing to discover  
Thy mind to me, this trouble had been over:  
And now thou hast, Corisca's power this day  
In all its colours shall itself display.  
Into more skilful hands, more faithful than  
Mine are, thou never couldst have fallen. But when  
From an ill Husband thou art freed by me,  
Shall not an honest Suitor welcome be?  Am. 
we'll think of that at leisure.  Cor. 
That good youth  
Mirtillo must not be forgot in sooth:  
For parts, for spotless faith, for shape thou know'st  
Of all men living he deserves thee most:  
And canst thou let him die? O cruelty!  
Nor will't so much as hear him say, I die?  
Hear him but once.  Am. 
'Twere better he would rest  
In peace, and root a love out of his breast  
That's vain.  Cor. 
That comfort give him ere he die.  Am. 
'T would rather double his perplexity.  Cor. 
If it do so, the seeking is his own.  Am. 
And what must I expect, should it be known?  Cor. 
How cowardly thou art?  Am. 
And let me still  
Be cowardly in any thing that's ill.  Cor. 
If thou mayst fail me in this small request,  
Then may I fail thee likewise in the rest  
Most justly, Amarillis. So God bye.  Am. 
Nay, stay Corisca, hear.  Cor. 
Not a word I,  
Unless thou promise me.  Am. 
I promise thee  
To hear him speak, provided this may be  
For all.  Cor. 
It shall.  Am. 
And that he may not know  
I was acquainted with 't.  Cor. 
I'll make as though  
Ye met by accident.  Am. 
And that I may  
At my own pleasure freely go away.  Cor. 
Thou shalt, when thou hast heard him.  Am. 
And that he  
Shall briefly speak.  Cor. 
That too is granted thee.  Am. 
Nor come within my darts length of me.  Cor. 
Fie,  
What a stir 's here with thy simplicity!  
To make it sure, he shall not do thee wrong,  
I'll tie up all his limbs except his tongue.  
Wouldst thou have more?  Am. 
'Tis well.  Cor. 
And when wilt thou  
Do this?  Am. 
When ere thou wilt: Do but allow  
Me so much time, as to go home to hear  
More certain news about this Marriage there.  Cor. 
Go; but with caution, and before thou'rt gone,  
Hear a contrivance I have thought upon  
As thou wert speaking: In the afternoon  
I would have thee without thy Nymphs to come  
Into this shady walk, where I will be  
Before for this occasion, and with me  
Nerina, Phillis, Celia, Aglaura,  
Eliza, Daphne, Silvia, and Laura;  
All my no less discreet and witty, then  
Faithful and secret Mates. There thou with them  
Shalt play (as thou art wont) at Blindman-buff,  
So that Mirtillo will with ease enough  
Be made believe, that for thy own pastime  
Thou thither cam'st, and not to meet with him.  Am. 
I like it wondrous well. But dost thou hear?  
I would not any of those Nymphs were there  
The while Mirtillo speaks.  Cor. 
I do conceive  
'Twas thought upon with good discretion. Leave  
The getting them away to my endeavour.  
Go: and remember one thing,— to love ever  
Thy faithfullest Corisca.  Am. 
In her hand  
Since I have put my heart, she may command  
As much love as she pleases.  Cor. 
Is she not stiff? We must assault this rock  
With greater force; though she resist my shock,  
Against Mirtillo's she will find no fence  
I'm sure: I know by self-experience  
The power of Lovers prayers when they invade  
The tender heart of an inclining maid.  
If she do yield, I'll make her smart so for't,  
That she shall find her sport was not in sport.  
Through her darkest words her heart shall be to me  
As visible as in a ' natomie.  
I'll ransack all her veins: that done, and I  
Made Mistress of her secret, easily  
I'll wind her so, and lead her by the nose  
To what I'd have, that she shall ne'er suppose  
(Much less shall others) that it was my skill  
That drew her to't, but her unbridled will.   

Scena sexta.  CORISCA, satire. Cor. 
O I'm dead.  Sat. 
But I was quick.  
There's a trick now for your trick.  Cor. 
My Amaerillis, I am caught.  
O come back.  Sat. 
She hears thee not.  
'Twill now behoove thee to be strong.  Cor. 
O me, my hair!  Sat. 
I have so long  
Stood angling for thee in my boat,  
At last th' art struck. 'Tis not thy coat,  
'Tis thy hair (Sister) this.  Cor. 
To me  
This usage (satire?)  Sat. 
Yes, to thee  
Corisca, or I am mistaken:  
That Mistress in the art of making  
The finespun lies, that sells so dear  
False words, false hopes, and a false leer?  
She that so often hath betrayed me;  
She that so many fools hath made me  
At every turn: the sorceress,  
The cheat Corisca?  Cor. 
I confess,  
I am Corisca; but not she  
Now, that was once so loved by thee,  
My gentile satire.  Sat. 
Pray since when  
Am I gentile? I was not then  
When me for Coridon thou didst change.  Cor. 
Thee for another?  Sat. 
See how strange  
She makes it now! I warrant then  
This is great news to thee; and when  
Thou mad'st me Silvia's Buskins steal,  
The Bow of Lilla, Cloris Veile,  
And Daphne's Gown, that were to be  
The price of love, which promised me,  
Thou gav'st another: and when that  
Fair wreath I on thy head did plat,  
Thou upon Niso didst bestow;  
And when thou mad'st me (cold as snow)  
Watch many a night out at the Fountain,  
The Cave, Wood-side, and foot o'th' Mountain,  
And for my pains didst laugh at me,  
Did I then seem gentile to thee?  
Ah thief! But now as I am here,  
I'll make thee pay thy whole arrear.  Cor. 
O me! Thou dragg'st me like a beast.  Sat. 
I drag thee like thyself then. Wrest  
Thy neck out of the collar now;  
Give me the slip if thou know'st how.  
Fox, though thy craft the time before  
Did save thee, it shall do't no more.  
For this I'm sure thou canst not scape,  
Unless thou leave thy head i'th' trap.  Cor. 
Yet give me so much time I pray,  
As for myself to answer.  Sat. 
Say.  Cor. 
How can I if thou hold me so?  Sat. 
'Tis likely I should let thee go.  Cor. 
I'll gauge my faith not to go hence.  Sat. 
What faith? Hast thou the impudence  
(Perfidious woman) to name faith  
To me? I'll bear thee where there hath  
No Sun, much less the feet of men  
Approached, unto the horrid'st den  
Of all this Mountain: there— (but I  
Will act the rest) to mine own joy  
And thy dishonour, I will kerve  
Such vengeance as thy faults deserve.  Cor. 
Canst thou then (cruel) to this hair (which has  
Tied fast thy heart), unto this face (which was  
Once thy delight), to this Corisca (then  
More dear to thee then thine own life was when  
Thou swar'st by that, that thou couldst find it sweet  
On her behalf, even death itself to meet),  
Canst thou once think to offer injury,  
I say, to her? O heavens'! O Destiny!  
Whom have I hoped in? whom can I believe  
Again?  Sat. 
Ah Siren! thinkst thou to deceive  
Me still? still rock me with thy flattering charms?  Cor. 
My sweet dear satire, do no harm  
To her that loves thee. Thou art not a beast,  
Nor hast a marble or a flinty breast:  
Behold me at thy feet! O pardon me  
If ever I (by chance) offended thee,  
My Idol. By those sinewy and more  
Than humane knees, which clasping I adore;  
By that rough manly visage; by that dear  
Affection which thou once to me didst bear;  
By the sweet influence of those eyes which thou  
Wert wont to call two stars (two fountains now;)  
By these salt tears which trickle down so fast,  
Pity me now, and let me go.  Sat. 
Thou hast  
Moved me (I must confess) and I were gone,  
If I should harken to affection.  
But to be short, I do not credit thee;  
Thou art too full of wiles and tricks for me,  
And he that takes thy word, believes his snares:  
Beneath this humble show, beneath these prayer's  
There's hid Corisca: Thou canst never be  
Another. Sruggling still?  Cor. 
My head, O me!  
Ah cruel! stay a little longer yet,  
And grant me but one favour.  Sat. 
What is it?  Cor. 
Hear me a little more.  Sat. 
Thou hopest now  
With flatteries and squeezed tears to make me bow.  Cor. 
Ah courteous satire! wilt thou kerve in me  
Such cruel vengeance?  Sat. 
Come, and thou shalt see.  Cor. 
And take no Pity of me?  Sat. 
None at all.  Cor. 
But art thou firm in this?  Sat. 
As a brasse-wall.  
Is this charm ended?  Cor. 
O thou base, and not  
To be exampled Rogue; half man, half goat,  
And all a beast; thou carrion that doth stink,  
By-blow and blush of nature; If thou think  
Corisca loves thee not, thou thinkst the truth.  
What should she love in such a comely youth?  
That fair Stag's head? that chimneysweepers broom?  
Goat's ears? that grave of rottenness and rheum  
Which once had bones in't?  Sat. 
This to me,  
Thou wicked varlet?  Cor. 
Even to thee.  Sat. 
To me, thou scold?  Cor. 
To thee, thou Goat.  Sat. 
And with these pincers pull I not  
Thy barking tongue out?  Cor. 
Would thou durst  
Come near't, there's that will scour their rust.  Sat. 
A paltry woman, and in such  
Condition (being in my clutch)  
To injure me! and dare me too!  
I will—  Cor. 
Base slave, what wilt thou do?  Sat. 
Eat thee alive I will.  Cor. 
Where be  
The teeth to do't?  Sat. 
Heaven, dost thou see  
And suffer this! But if I do not  
Chastise thee— Come along.  Cor. 
I wi' not.  Sat. 
Wi' not, my Mistress Malapert?  Cor. 
Wi' not in spite of thy foul heart.  Sat. 
That shall be seen; Come, or I swear,  
This arm I'll from thy shoulder tear.  Cor. 
Tear my head off, I wi' not go  
One foot.  Sat. 
Art thou resolved so?  
Let's ne'er dispute then any longer,  
But put to trial whether's stronger  
And faster on, thy neck-piece, or  
My arm.— Thy hands to help too? Nor  
Are these (perverse one) enough guard.  Cor. 
That shall be tried.  Sat. 
It shall.  Cor. 
Pull hard.  
satire adieu, Get thy neck set.  Sat. 
O me!  
How I am shattered! O my head! my knee!  
O my backbone! my thigh! what a vile fall  
Was here! to get upon my legs is all  
I have the power to do. But can it be  
That she should fly, and leave her head with me?  
O marvellous! ye Nymphs and Shepherds run,  
Flock hither to behold a wonder; one  
That runs away without her head, by skill  
In Magic. Ha! how light it is! how ill  
Peopled with brains! How comes it that I see  
None of the blood spir't forth? But stay; let me  
Peruse it better. O thou stock! thou stone!  
Thou hast no head, if thou think she hath none.  
Was ever any man so fooled? See now  
If she had not a trick to scape, when thou  
Thoughtst her most sure! Thou all made up of wiles,  
Was't not enough thy heart, thy face, thy smiles,  
Thy looks and speeches falsified were,  
But thou must likewise falsify thy hair?  
The glowing Amber, and the flowing Gold,  
Which you (mad Poets) so extol, behold!  
Blush, blush now at your error, and recant  
Your threadbare theme; in stead whereof, go paint  
The arts of a deformed and impious Witch  
Breaking up Sepulchers by night, from which  
She steals the hair that upon Death's head grows,  
To imp her own, which she so neatly does,  
That she hath made you praise what ye should more  
Then dire Megara's snaky locks abhor.  
These (Lovers) are your gyves (I take it) too!  
Look on 'em Idiots: and if (as you  
Protest) your hearts are fastened to these hairs,  
Now every one may without sighs or tears  
Come by his own. But why do I forbear  
To publish her disgrace? Surely that hair,  
Which stuck with stars adorns the azure sky,—  
Never so famous was as this; and she  
Much more that wore it by my tongue shall be  
Made infamous to all posterity.—  

CHORUS.  
AH! 'Twas a grievous fault in her (the Cause  
Of all our sorrows) who, the sacred Laws  
Of Love offending, by her breach of troth,  
Kindled against this Land the mortal wrath  
Of the immortal Gods, which not a Flood  
Of general tears, nor so much guiltless blood  
" Can quench yet or abate; so high a price  
" Unspotted Faith (Expeller of all vice,  
" And most undoubted Argument to prove  
" A mind descended nobly) bears above.  
" And such a care to plant love in his creature  
" (By which we deify our humane Nature)  
" Hath the eternal Lover. O those blind  
Mistaken mortals, who addict their mind  
To wealth, (for which affection's basely sold)  
Watching the carcase of their coffined gold,  
Like a pale ghost that walks about his grave!  
Or why should beauty our free hearts enslave?  
" These are dead loves; the living and divine  
" Is where two souls by virtue do combine.  
" No outward object can with reason move  
" The heart to love it, 'cause it cannot love:  
" Only the soul, 'cause that can love again,  
" Deserves a Love, deserves a Lover's pain.  
Well may that kiss be sweet that's given t'a sleek  
And fragrant rose of a vermilion cheek;  
And understanding tasters (as are true  
And happy Lovers) will commend that too.  
'Tis a dead kiss, say I, and must be poor,  
Which the place kissed hath no means to restore.  
But the sweet echoing, and the Dovelike billing  
Of two encountering Mouths, when both are willing;  
And when at once both Loves advance their bows,  
Their shafts drawn home, at once sound at the loose,  
(How sweet is such Revenge!) This is true kissing,  
Where there is one for tother without missing  
A minute of the time, or taking more  
Than that which in the taking they restore.  
Where by an interchange of amorous blisses  
At the same time they sow and gather kisses.  
Kiss a red swelling lip, then kiss a wrist,  
A breast, a forehead, or what else thou list,  
No part of a fair Nymph so just will be,  
Except the lip, to pay this kiss to thee.  
Thither your souls come sallying forth, and they  
Kiss too, and by the wandering powers convey  
Life into smacking Rubies, and transfuse  
Into the live and sprightly kiss their use  
Of reason; so that ye discourse together  
In kisses, which with little noise deliver  
Much matter; and sweet secrets, which he spells,  
Who is a Lover; Gibberish to all else.  
Like life, like mutual joy they feel, where Love  
With equal flames as with two wings doth move.  
" And as where lips kiss lips is the best Kiss:  
" So where one's loved, to love, best loving is.     

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  MIRTILLO. 
SPring, the years youth, fair Mother of new flowers,  
New leaves, new loves, drawn by the winged hours,  
Thou art returned; but the felicity  
Thou brought'st me last is not returned with thee.  
Thou art returned, but nought returns with thee  
Save my lost joys regretfull memory.  
Thou art the self same thing thou wert before,  
As fair and jocund: but I am no more  
The thing I was, so gracious in her sight  
Who is heavens' masterpiece, and Earth's delight,  
" O bitter-sweets of Love! Far worse it is  
" To love than never to have tasted bliss.  
" But O how sweet were Love, if it could not  
" Be lost, or being lost could be forgot!  
Though if my hopes (as mine are wont to be)  
Are not of glass, or my love make me see  
Them through a multiplying glass; If I  
Be not deceived both by myself, and by  
Another: Here I shall that Sun behold  
Which I adore, impart her beams of gold  
To my blessed sight, behold her flying feet  
Stop at my sad notes; here upon the sweet  
Food of that lovely face I shall suffice  
After a tedious fast my greedy eyes.  
Here, here behold that proud one on me turn  
Her sparkling lamps, if not to light, to burn.  
And if not fraught with amorous delight,  
So kindly cruel as to kill outright.  
Yet were't but just, that after so much pain  
As I have hitherto endured in vain,  
Thou Love at length shouldst make the Sun appear  
To this benighted earth serene and clear.  
Hither Ergasto did direct me, where  
Corisca and my Amarillis were  
To play at Blindman-busse: but I can find  
In this place nothing but my love that's blind,  
And so deceived, misled by a false guide  
To seek that light which is to me denied.  
Pray Heaven my hard and envious fate beneath  
This sugared Pill now have not hid my death.  
This tedious stay afflicts me:" For those  
" That go to meet their Loves, each moment shows  
" An age. Perchance I have arrived too late,  
And made for me too long Corisca wait:  
Yet I made haste. Now woe is me! If I  
Have done this fault, I will lie down and die.   

Scena secunda.  AMARILLIS, MIRTILLO, Chorus of Nymphs, CORISCA. Am. 
BEhold the Buff!  Mirt. 
O sight!  Am. 
Come on▪  Mirt. 
O voice!  
That makes my heart both tremble and rejoice.  Am. 
What do you do? Lisetta, where art thou  
That wert so eager of this sport but now?  
And thou Corisca, whither gone?  Mir. 
I find  
Now it is true indeed, that Love is blind.  Am. 
You there that are appointed for my guides  
To hand and to support me on both sides,  
Before the rest of our Companions come,  
Out of these trees conduct me to field-room:  
Then leaving me alone amidst the plain,  
Amongst our other fellows herd again:  
So joining all together, make a ring  
About me round, and let the sport begin.  Mir. 
But what shall I do? Yet I cannot see  
Of what advantage this should be to me  
In my desires; nor see I my north-star  
Corisca: Secure me blessed Heaven!  Am. 
O are  
Ye come at last? ye wantons, did you mean  
Only to bind my eyes? Begin now then.  Chor. 
Love, thou art not blind, I know,  
" But dost only appear so  
" To blind us: if thy sight's small,  
" Thou hast, I'm sure no faith at all.  
Blind or not, thou try'st in vain  
Me into thy net to train.  
And to keep out of thy pound,  
Off I get, and traverse ground.  
Blind as thou art, thou couldst see more  
Than Argus hundred eyes of yore.  
Thou couldst see (blind as thou art)  
Well enough to hit my heart.  
But I were a fool indeed,  
Should I trust thee now I'm freed.  
Sport with thee henceforth that will;  
'Tis a sport with thee to kill.  Am. 
ay, but with too much wariness you play:  
Ye should strike first, and after get away.  
Approach me, touch me, and ye shall not fly  
Me then.  Mir. 
O ye high Gods! In heaven am I?  
Or earth? O heavens! do your eternal rounds  
Move in such order, warble such sweet sounds?  Cho. 
Well, blind Archer, since thou still  
Urgest me to play, I will.  
Now I clap thy shoulder hard:  
Now I fly unto my guard:  
Strike, and run, and strike again,  
And thou wheel'st about in vain.  
Now I pinch thee, now remove:  
And have at thee now blind Love.  
Yet thou canst not light on me;  
Why? because my heart is free.  Am. 
In faith Licoris, I had surely thought  
T'ave caught thee there, and 'twas a tree I caught.  
ay, dost thou laugh?  Mir. 
Would I had been that tree.  
But do I not Corisca hidden see  
Amongst those brakes? and she makes signs as who  
Should say, that something she would have me do.  Cho. 
" A free heart makes a nimble heel.  
Ah traitor! dost thou tempt me still  
With thy flattering false delight?  
Thus than I renew the fight.  
Slash, and fly, and turn, and shove;  
And about again blind Love:  
Yet thou canst not light on me;  
Why? because my heart is free.  Am. 
Would thou wert pulled up by the root, base tree:  
That I should ever thus be catching thee!  
Deceived by the dancing of a bough,  
I did suppose I'd had Eliza now.  Mir. 
Corisca still is making signs to me,  
And looks as she were angry: perhaps she  
Would have me mix with those Nymphs.  Am. 
Must I play  
With nothing but with trees then all this day?  Cor. 
I must come forth and speak, or he'll not stir—.  
To her (white liver) and lay hold on her.  
Why dost thou gape? to have her run into  
Thy mouth? At least, if that thou dar'st not do,  
Let her lay hold of thee. Come, give me here  
This dart, and go to meet her fool.  Mir. 
How near  
To impotence is strong desire! O Love!  
That thou shouldst make a man a coward prove!  Am. 
Play but once more, for now I weary grow.  
Troth, you're too blame for making me run so.  Chor. 
That triumphant God survey,  
To whom amorous mortals pay  
Impious tribute! See him snaffeld!  
See him laughed at! See him baffled!  
As a hooded Hawk or Owl  
With light blinded, when the foul  
With their Army's flock about her,  
Some to beat, and some to stout her;  
She in vain doth rouse and peck  
This and that way with her beak:  
So we baffle and deride  
Thee (blind Love) on every side.  
One doth pinch thy elbow black;  
Tother has thee by the back;  
And thy baiting does no good,  
Nor thy pecking through thy hood,  
Nor thy stretching out thy claws.  
" But sweet meats have sour sauce.  
" Birds are caught by playing thus:  
" So do Nymphs grow amorous.   

Scena tertia.  AMARILLIS, CORISCA, MIRTILLO. Am. 
I' Faith, Aglaura, art thou caught at last?  
thou'dst fain be gone, but I will hold thee fast.  Cor. 
Surely, unless at unawares by main  
Strength I had thrust him on her, I in vain  
Had tired myself to make him thither go.  Am. 
Thou wilt not speak now: Art thou she or no?  Cor. 
I lay his Dart here by him, and unto  
My bush return, t'observe what will ensue.  Am. 
Thou art Corisca, now it is most clear;  
I know thee by thy tallness and short hair.  
'Twas thee I wished to catch; that I might use thee  
Just as I list, and thus, and thus abuse thee;  
And thus, and thus. Not yet? But since 'twas thou  
That boundst me, do thou too unbind me now:  
Quickly (my heart) and thou shalt have of me  
The sweetest kiss that ere was given thee.  
What dost thou stick at? thy hand trembles: what,  
Art thou so weary? If thy nails will not,  
Let thy teeth do't: come fumbler, let me see;  
I can myself untangle without thee.  
Fie, how with knots on knots it is perplexed?  
The best on't is, thou must be blinded next.  
So, now 'tis loosed: Ha! whom have we here?  
Traitor avaunt. I am unspirited.  Mir. 
Dear  
Soul, do not strive to go away.  Am. 
Unhand  
(Forcer of Nymphs) unhand me, I command.  
Ay me! Aglaura and Eliza tarry,  
Betrayers of my innocence, where are ye?—  
Unhand me villain.  Mir. 
I obey.  Am. 
This plot  
Corisca laid: Now tell her what thoust got.  Mir. 
O whither fliest thou Cruel? ere thou go  
Banquet thy eyes yet with my death: for lo,  
I pierce my bosom with this dart.  Am. 
Ay me!  
What wilt thou do?  Mir. 
That which it troubles thee  
Perchance (dire Nymph) that any should be said  
T'have done, but thou.  Am. 
(Ay me! I'm almost dead)  Mirt. 
And if this action to thy hand be due,  
Behold the weapon and the breast!  Am. 
'Tis true,  
Thou hast deserved it of me. What could move  
Thy heart to such a high presumption?  Mir. 
Love.  Am. 
" Love never causes rudeness.  Mir. 
Then conclude,  
" I was in love, because I was not rude:  
For if within thy arms thou caughtst me first,  
I cannot well with rudeness be aspersed,  
Since with so fair an opportunity  
To be audacious, and to use with thee  
The Laws of Love, I had such power yet over  
Myself, I even forgot I was a Lover.  Am. 
Upbraid me not with what I blind did do.  Mir. 
I being in Love was blinder of the two.  Am. 
" Prayer and sweet language discreet Lovers use  
" To win their Loves; not theft and cheats, t'abuse.  Mir. 
As a wild beast enraged with want of food  
Rushes on travellers out of the wood:  
So I, that only live on thy fair eyes,  
Since that loved food thy cruelty denies,  
Or else my Fate, if like a ravenous Lover  
Rushing to day upon thee from this Cover,  
Where I had long been famished, I did prove  
One stratagem to save my life (which Love  
Prompted me to) then blame not, cruel Maid,  
Me but thyself; for if (as thou hast said)  
Prayer and sweet language only should be used  
By discreet Lovers, which thou hast refused  
To hear from me; thou by thy cruelty,  
Thou by thy flight mad'st me I could not be  
A discreet Lover.  Am. 
If thou'dst gi'n her over  
That fled from thee, thou'dst been a discreet Lover.  
But know, thou persecutest me in vain;  
What wouldst thou have of me?  Mir. 
I'd have thee deign  
Once'ere I die to hear me.  Am. 
See! as soon  
As thou hast asked, thou hast received the boon.  
Now then be gone.  Mir. 
Ah Nymph! I've scarcely yet  
Poured one small drop out to thee of the great  
Sea of my tears. If not for pity's sake,  
Yet for the Pleasure thou therein wilt take,  
List ' to a dying man's last accents.  Am. 
Well,  
To shun more trouble, and thy hopes to quell,  
To hear thee I'm content. But this before;  
Say little, quickly, part, and come no more.  Mir. 
Thou dost command me, cruelest Nymph, to bind  
In volume too too small that unconfined  
Desire, which scarcely humane thought (though it  
Be as the soul that holds it, infinite)  
Hath line to fathom.  
That I do love thee more than I do love  
My life (if thou doubtest, Cruel) ask this Grove,  
And that will tell thee; and with it each beast,  
Each stupid stock there can the same attest;  
Each stone of these high mountains, which so oft  
I with the voice of my complaints made soft.  
But what need I call any witness else  
To prove my love, where so much beauty dwells?  
Behold these flowers which make low earth so proud!  
Those Stars which nail heavens' pavement! all these crowd  
Into one ring: A beauty like that same  
Is the high cause and forcer of my flame.  
For as by nature Water doth descend,  
The Fire unto the higher Regions tend  
The Air obliquely spread itself, the Ground  
Lie still, and heaven about all these turn round.  
So naturally do I incline to thee,  
As to my chiefest good; so naturally  
To those loved beauties (as unto her sole)  
With all her winged affections flies my soul.  
And he that should imagine he had force  
Her from her dearest object to divorce,  
Might with as much facility command  
The Air, the Fire, the Water and the Land,  
The Heavens too from their accustomed tract,  
And make the Pillars of the world to crack.  
But since thou bidst me say but little, I  
Shall say but little, saying that I die:  
And shall do less in dying, since I see  
How much my death is coveted by thee.  
Yet I shall do (alas) all that is left  
For me to do, of hopes in love bereft.  
But (cruel soul) when I am in my grave,  
Some pity then upon my sufferings have.  
Ah! fair and loved, and that wert once the sweet  
Cause of my life (whilst Heaven thought it meet)  
Turn those bright lamps upon me, as beni'ne  
And pitiful as ere I saw them shine,  
Once ere I die, that I may die in peace.  
Let those fair amiable eyes release  
My life, now bitter, which once sweetened it;  
And those bright Stars, which my loves torches lied,  
Light too my Funeral tapers, and forerun,  
As once my rising, now my setting Sun.  
But thou more hard then ere thou wert before,  
Feel'st yet no spark of pity; but art more  
Stiff with my prayers. Must I then talk alone?  
Wretch that I am, discourse I to a stone?  
Say die, at least, it nothing else thou'lt say;  
And thou shalt see me die. O Love! what way  
Canst thou not plague me? when this Nymph that's nursed  
In cruelty, and for my blood did thirst,  
Finding my death would now a favour be,  
Even that sad favour doth deny to me?  
Nor will reply a syllable, or deign  
One stabbing word to put me out of pain?  Am. 
To answer thee if I had promised,  
As well as hear thee, this were justly said.  
Thou call'st me cruel, hoping, that to shun  
That vice, into the contrary I'll run.  
But know, my ears are not so tickled  
With that (by me so little merited)  
And less desired) praise thou giv'st to me  
Of beauty, as to hear myself by thee  
" Styled Cruel; which to be to any other  
I grant were vice; 'tis virtue to a Lover:  
And what thou harshness call'st and cruelty,  
" Is in a woman perfect honesty.  
But say, that even t'a Lover 'twere a sin;  
Yet tell me, when hath Amarillis been  
Cruel to thee? was't then when justice bad  
To use no pity; yet on thee I had  
So much, that I from death delivered thee?  
I mean, when 'mongst a noble company  
Of modest Virgins mingled, thou didst cover  
With a Maid's habit a libidinous Lover:  
And, our chaste sports polluting, didst intrude  
'Mongst kisses feigned and innocent thy lewd  
And wanton kisses (such an act, as yet  
I blush as oft as I but think on it).  
But at that time I knew thee not (Heaven knows)  
And when I did, my indignation rose.  
Thy wantonness I from my mind did keep,  
And suffered not the amorous plague to creep  
To my chaste heart: on my lips outer skin  
The poison stuck, but none of it got in.  
" A mouth that's kissed perforce,  
" If it spit out the kiss, is ne'er the worse.  
But what wouldst thou by that bold theft have got,  
If I had to those Nymphs discovered what  
Thou wert? the Thracian women never tore  
And murdered Orpheus so on Hebrus shore,  
As they had thee, unless her clemency  
Whom thou call'st cruel now had rescued thee.  
But she is not so cruel as she ought  
To be: for if when she is cruel thought  
Thy boldness is so great, what would it be  
If she were judged pitiful by thee?  
That honest pity which I could, I gave;  
Other it is in vain for thee to crave,  
Or hope:" for amorous pity she can ill  
" Bestow, who gave it all to one that will  
" Give her none back. If thou my Lover be,  
Love my good name, my life, my honesty.  
Thou seek'st impossibles; I am a ward  
To Heaven, Earth watches me, and my reward  
If I transgress, is death: but most of all,  
Virtue defends me with a brazen wall.  
" For she that is protected by her honour,  
" Scorns there should be a safer guard upon her.  
Look to thy safety then, and do not give  
Battle to me, Mirtillo: fly, and live,  
If thou be wise." For out of sense of smart  
" T' abandon life, argues but a faint heart.  
" And 'tis the part of virtue to abstain  
" From what we love, if it will prove our bane.  Mir. 
" He that no longer can resist must yield.  Am. 
" Where virtue is, all passions quit the field.  Mir. 
" Love triumphs over virtue.  Am. 
Let that man  
" That cannot what he will, will what he can.  Mir. 
" Necessity of loving hath no law.  Am. 
" Love's wounds will heal, which salves of absence draw.  Mir. 
" We fly in vain what we about us carry.  Am. 
" Love drives out love like following billows: Marry.  Mir. 
Strange levity in me thou dost presume.  Am. 
" If all ways fail, time will thy love consume.  Mir. 
But first my love will have consumed me.  Am. 
Is there no cure then for thy malady?  Mir. 
No cure at all but that which death affords.  Am. 
Death? let me speak then; and be sure these words  
Be as a charm unto thee: though I know  
" When Lovers talk of dying, it doth show  
" An amorous custom rather of the tongue,  
" Then a resolve of mind (continuing long)  
" To do't indeed: yet if thou e'er shouldst take  
So strange a frenzy; know, when thou dost make  
Away thyself, thou murtherst my fame too:  
Live then (if thou dost love me) and adieu:  
I shall esteem thee henceforth most discreet,  
If thou take care we two may never meet.  Mir. 
Sad doom! without my life how can I live?  
Or without death end to my torments give?  Am. 
Mirtillo, 'Tis high time thou went'st away,  
Thou hast already made too long a stay:  
Be gone; and take this cordial along,  
" Of hopeless Lovers there's a numerous throng,  
" There is no wound but carries with it pain,  
And there are others may of love complain.  Mir. 
I know I'm not the only man hath lost  
His Love; but only wretched I am tossed  
'Twixt life and death; of whom it may be said,  
That I am neither living, nor yet dead.  Am. 
Be gone, be gone.  Mir. 
O woeful parting! O  
End of my days! from thee how can I go,  
And yet not die? The pangs of death I'm sure  
I feel, and all that parting souls endure.  
For mine, 'tis past into my griefs: Hence I  
Have ceased to live, those live immortally.   

Scena quarta.  AMARILLIS. 
MIrtillo, O Mirtillo! couldst thou see  
That heart which thou condemn'st of cruelty,  
(Soul of my soul) thou unto it wouldst show  
That pity which thou beg'st from it I know.  
O ill starred Lovers! what avails it me  
To have thy love? T'have mine, what boots it thee?  
Whom Love hath joined why dost thou separate,  
Malicious Fate! And two divorced by Fate  
Why joyn'st thou perverse Love? How blessed are you  
Wild beasts, that are in loving tied unto  
No laws but those of Love! whilst humane laws  
Inhumanely condemn us for that cause.  
" O why, if this be such a natural  
" And powerful passion, was it capital!  
" Nature too frail, that dost with Law contend!  
" Law too severe, that Nature dost offend!  
" But what? they love but little who death fear.  
Ah, my Mirtillo! would to heaven that were  
" The only penalty. Virtue, which art  
" The bindingst Law to an ingenuous heart,  
This inclination which in me I feel,  
Lanced with the sharp point of thy holy steel,  
To thee I sacrifice; and pardon (dear  
Mirtillo) her, that's only cruel, where  
She must not pity. Pardon thy fierce foe  
In looks and words: but in her heart not so.  
Or if addicted to revenge thou be,  
What greater vengeance canst thou take on me  
Then thine own grief? for if thou be my heart.  
(As in despite of Heaven and Earth thou art)  
Thy sighs my vital spirits are, the flood  
Of tears which follows is my vital blood,  
And all these pangs, and all these groans of thine  
Are not thy pangs, are not thy groans, but mine.   

Scena quinta.  CORISCA, AMARILLIS. Cor. 
SIster, no more dissembling.  Am. 
Woe is me!  
I am discovered.  Cor. 
I heard all: now see,  
Was I a Witch? I did believe (my Heart)  
Thou wert in love; now I am sure thou art.  
And wouldst thou keep't from me? thy closet? tush,  
This is a common evil, never blush.  Am. 
Corisca, I am conquered (I confess't)  Cor. 
No, now I know't, deny it thou wert best.  Am. 
" Alas! I knew a woman's heart would prove  
" Too small a vessel for o'erflowing love.  Cor. 
Cruel to thy Mirtillo! but unto  
Thyself much more!  Am. 
'Tis cruelty that grew  
" From pity.  Cor. 
Poison ne'er was known to grow  
" From wholesome root: What difference canst thou show  
'Twixt such a cruelty as doth offend,  
And such a pity as no help will lend?  Am. 
Ay me, Corisca!  Cor. 
'Tis a vanity  
(Sister) to sigh, an imbecility  
Of mind, and tastes too much of woman.  Am. 
Were't  
Not crueler to nourish in his heart  
A hopeless love? To fly him is a sign  
I have compassion of his case and mine.  Cor. 
But why a hopeless love?  Am. 
Dost thou not know  
I am contracted unto Silvio?  
Dost thou not know besides what the Law saith,  
'Tis death in any woman that breaks faith?  Cor. 
O fool! and is this all stands in thy way?  
Whether is ancienter with us (I pray)  
" The Law of Diana, or of Love? this last  
" Is born with us, and it grows up as fast  
" As we do, Amarillis; 'tis not writ,  
" Nor taught by Masters, Nature printed it  
" In humane hearts with her own powerful hand:  
" Both Gods and men are under Love's command.  Am. 
But if that Law my life away should take,  
Can this of Love a restitution make?  Cor. 
Thou art too nice; if women all were such,  
And on these scruples should insist so much,  
Good days adieu. I hold them simple souls  
Will live obnoxious to such poor comptrolls.  
" Laws are not for the wise: if to be kind  
Should merit death, jove help the cruel mind!  
But if fools fall into those snares, 'tis fit  
They be forbid to steal, who have not wit  
" To hide their theft. For honesty is but  
" An art, an honest gloss on vice to put.  
Think others as they list; thus I conceive.  Am. 
These rotten grounds, Corisca, will deceive.  
" What I can't hold 'tis wisdom soon to quit.  Cor. 
" And who forbids thee fool? our life doth flit  
" Too fast away to lose one jot of it;  
" And men so squeamish and so curious grown,  
" That two of our new Lovers make not one  
" O'th' old. We are no longer for their tooth  
" (Believe't) then while w' are new. Bate us our youth,  
" Bate us out beauty, and like hollow trees  
" Which had been stuffed with honey by the bees,  
" If that by liquorish hands away be ta'en,  
" Dry and despised trunks we shall remain.  
Therefore let them have leave to babble what  
They please, as those who know nor reckon not  
What the poor woman Amarillis bears,  
Our case alas is differing much from theirs.  
" Men in perfection as in age increase,  
" Wisdom supplies the loss of handsomeness:  
" But when our Youth and Beauty (which alone  
" Conquers the strength and wit of men) are gone,  
" All's gone with us; nor canst thou possibly  
" Say a worse thing, or to be pardoned thee  
" More hardly, then Old woman. Then before  
Thou split on that unevitable shore,  
Know thine own worth, and do not be so mad,  
As when thou mayst live merry, to live sad.  
What would the lion's strength boot him, or wit  
Avail a man, unless he used it?  
Our beauty is to us that which to men  
Wit is, or strength unto the lion. Then  
" Let us use it whilst we may;  
" Snatch those joys that haste away.  
" Earth her winter-coat may cast,  
" And renew her beauty past;  
" But, our winter come, in vain  
" We solicit spring again:  
" And when our furrows snow shall cover,  
" Love may return, but never Lover.  Am. 
Thou sayst all this only to try me sure,  
Not that thy thoughts are such. But rest secure,  
Unless the way thou unto me shalt show  
Be a plain way, and warrantable too  
To break this Match; I am resolved to die  
A thousand deaths, ere stain my honesty.  Cor. 
More wilful woman I did never know.  
But since thou art so resolved, be it so.  
Tell me good Amarillis, seriously,  
Dost thou suppose thy Silvio sets by  
His faith as much as thou thy honesty?  Am. 
Thou mak'st me laugh at this: wherein should he  
Express a faith, who is to love a foe?  Cor. 
Love's foe? O fool! thou know'st not Silvio.  
He is the still sow, he. O these coy souls!  
Believe them not: the deep stream silent rowls.  
" No theft in Love so subtle, so secure,  
" As to hide sin by seeming to be pure.  
In short, thy Silvio loves: but 'tis not thee  
(Sister) he loves.  Am. 
What Goddess may she be?  
For certainly she is no mortal Dame  
That could the heart of Silvio inflame.  Cor. 
Nor Goddess, nor yet Nymph.  Am. 
What hast thou said?  Cor. 
Dost thou know my Lisetta?  Am. 
Who? the Maid  
That tends thy Flocks?  Cor. 
The same.  Am. 
It cannot be  
She, I am sure, Corisca?  Cor. 
Very she,  
I can assure thee, she is all his joy.  Am. 
A proper choice for one that was so coy.  Cor. 
But wilt thou know how he doth pine away  
And languish for this Jewel? Every day  
He feigns to go a hunting.  Am. 
Every morn  
Soon as it dawns I hear his cursed horn.  Cor. 
And just at noon, when others are i'th' heat  
Of all the sport, he doth by stealth retreat  
From his Companions, and comes all alone  
Unto my garden by a way unknown:  
Where underneath a haw-thorn hedges shade  
(Which doth the garden fence about) the Maid  
Hears his hot sighs, and amorous prayers, which she  
Comes laughing afterwards and tells to me.  
Now hear what I to serve thee've thought upon;  
Or rather, what I have already done.  
I think thou know'st, that the same Law which hath  
Enjoined the woman to observe her faith  
To her betrothed, likewise doth enact,  
That if the woman catch him in the fact  
Of falsehood, spite of friends she may deny  
To have him, and without disloyalty  
Marry another.  Am. 
This I know full well;  
And thereof some examples too could tell,  
Of my own knowledge; Egle having found  
Licotas false, remained herself unbound.  
Armilla did from false Turingo so,  
And Phillida from Ligurino go.  Cor. 
Now list ' to me: My Maid (by me set on)  
Hath bid her credulous Lover meet anon  
In yonder cave with her; whence he remains  
The most contented of all living swains,  
And waits but th'hour: there thou shalt catch him; where  
I too will be witness of all to bear:  
(For without this our plot would be in vain.)  
So without any hazard, or least stain  
To thine, or to thy father's honour, thou  
Shalt free thyself from this distasteful vow.  Am. 
I like it rarely: but the way, the way,  
Corisca?  Cor. 
Marry thus (observe me pray)  
I'th' middle of the cave (which narrow is  
And very long) upon the right hand lies  
Another lesser Grot (I know not whether  
By nature, or by art, or both together  
Made) in the hollow stone, whose slimy wall  
Is hid with clinging Ivy, and a small  
Hole in the roof lets light in from above,  
(Fit receptacles for the thefts of Love,  
Yet cheerful too enough) there thou shalt hide  
Thyself, and hidden in that place abide  
Till the two Lovers come; I mean to send  
Lisetta first, and after her, her friend,  
Following his steps myself aloof: And when  
I shall perceive him stepped into the den,  
Rush after him will I. But lest he should  
Escape from me: when I have laid fast hold  
Upon him, I will use Lisetta's aid,  
And joining both (for so the plot is laid  
Between us two) together we will make  
A cry, at which thou too shalt come, and take  
The penalty o'th' law 'gainst Silvio.  
Then my Lisetta and we two will go  
Before the Priest; and so thou shalt untie  
The Nuptial knot.  Am. 
Before his Father?  Cor. 
Why?  
What matters that? Think'st thou Montano's blood  
Will stand in balance with his Country's good?  
Or that his sacred function he'll neglect  
For any carnal or profane respect?  Am. 
Go to then (setting all disputes aside)  
I wink, and follow thee my faithful guide.  Cor. 
Then linger not (my Heart) enter into  
The Cave.  Am. 
Unto the Temple first I'll go  
" T'adore the gods: For unless Heaven give  
" Success, no mortal enterprise can thrive.  Cor. 
" To devout hearts all places Temples are:  
It will lose too much time.  Am. 
" In using prayer  
" To them that made time, time cannot be lost.  Cor. 
Go and return then quickly—. So almost  
I'm past the bad way; only this delay  
Gives me some cause of trouble; yet this may  
Be of use too. Something there would be done  
T' abuse my honest Lover Coridon.  
I'll say, I'll meet him in the Cave, and so  
Will make him after Amarillis go.  
This done, by a back way I'll thither send  
The Priest of Diana her to apprehend:  
Guilty she will be found, and sentenced  
To death without all doubt. My Rival dead,  
Mirtillo is mine own: His cruelty  
To me being caused by's love to her. But see  
The man! I'll sound him till she comes. Now rise,  
Rise all my Love into my tongue and eyes.   

Scena sexta.  MIRTILLO, CORISCA. Mir. 
HEar ye damned spirits that in hell lament,  
Hear a new sort of pain and punishment.  
See in a Turtles look a Tiger's mind!  
She, crueler than death, 'cause she did find  
One death would not suffice her bloody will,  
And that to live was to be dying still,  
enjoins me, not to make myself away,  
That I might die a thousand times a day.  Cor. 
(I'll make as though I saw him not) I hear  
A doleful voice pierce my relenting ear,  
Who should it be? Mirtillo, is it thou?  Mir. 
I would it were my ghost.  Cor. 
Well, well: but how  
(And tell me true) thyself now dost thou find,  
Since to thy dearest Nymph thou brok'st thy mind?  Mir. 
As one who in a fever cast,  
Forbidden liquour longed to taste,  
If gotten, sets it to his mouth,  
And quenches life, but cannot drought:  
So I, with amorous fever long  
Consumed, from her eyes and tongue  
Sweet poison sucked, which leaves me more  
Inflamed than I was before.  Cor. 
" Love upon us no power can have  
" But what ourselves (Mirtillo) gave.  
" As a Bear doth with her tongue  
" Polish her mishapen young  
" Which had else in vain been born:  
" So an Am'rist giving form  
" To a rude and faint desire  
" That would otherwise expire,  
" Hatches Love; which is at first  
" Weak and raw, but when 'tis nursed,  
" Fierce and cruel. Take't upon  
" My word, an old affection  
" Tyrannizes' in a breast,  
" And grows a Master from a guest.  
" For when the soul shall once be brought  
" To be fettered to one thought,  
" And that, not have the power to move  
" A minute from its object, Love  
" (Made for delight) will turn to sadness;  
" And which is worse, to death or madness.  
" Therefore my advice shall be,  
" To part thy love to two or three.  Mir. 
Let death or madness me betide,  
Rather than my Flame divide.  
Amarillis (though she be  
Cruel and unkind to me)  
Is my Life and Reason too,  
And to her I will be true.  Cor. 
Foolish Swain! that canst not tell  
How to make a bargain well.  
What? change love for hatred? I  
Rather now then do't would die.  Mir. 
" Cruelty doth faith refine,  
" As the fire the golden mine:  
" Where were the loyalty of Love,  
" If women should not tyrants prove?  
In my many sufferings this  
All my joy and comfort is,  
Sorrows, tortures, exile, gall,  
Here's a cause will sweeten all.  
Let me languish, let me burn,  
Let me any thing but turn.  Cor. 
O brave Lover! valiant breast!  
More impetuous than a beast!  
And yet tamer than a rock  
Which endures the Ocean's shock!  
" In Lover's hearts there cannot be  
" A worse disease than Constancy.  
" O most unhappy those in whom  
" This foolish I do I finds a room!  
" Which shackles us, when we might prove  
" The sweet variety of Love.  
With this dull virtue Constancy,  
Tell me (simple Lover) why  
Amarillis? For her face?  
Whom another must embrace?  
Or dost thou affect her mind,  
Which to thee is not inclined?  
All then thou canst dote upon  
Is thine own destruction.  
And wilt thou be still so mad  
To covet that cannot be had?  
Up Mirtillo, know thy parts:  
Canst thou want a thousand hearts?  
Others I dare swear there be,  
That would sue as much to thee.  Mir. 
To be Amarillis thrall  
Is more than to command them all.  
And if she my suit deny,  
All that's pleasure I defy.  
I to make another choice?  
In another I rejoice?  
Neither could I if I would,  
Neither would I if I could:  
But if possible to me  
Such a will or power be,  
Heaven and Love before that hour  
Strip me of all will and power.  Cor. 
Thou art enchanted: otherwise  
Couldst thou too thyself despise?  Mir. 
I must, when I'm despised by her  (Corisca). Cor. 
Come Mirtillo, ne'er  
Deceive thyself: perhaps thou dost suppose  
She loves thee in her heart, although she shows  
An outward scorn. If thou but knewst what she  
Talks oftentimes to me concerning thee.  Mir. 
All these are trophies of my constant love,  
With which I'll triumph o'er the Powers above,  
And men below, my torments, and her hate,  
O'er Fortune and the world, o'er Death and Fate.  Cor. 
(Wonder of Constancy! if this man knew  
How much he's loved by her, what would he do?)  
Mirtillo, how it pities me to hear  
These frantic speeches! Tell me, wert thou 'ere  
In love before?  Mir. 
Fair Amarillis was  
My first, and shall be my last Love.  Cor. 
Alas!  
It should seem then that thou didst never prove  
Any but cruel, but disdainful Love.  
O that 't had been thy chance but once to be  
In love with one that's gentle, courteous, free!  
Try that a little: try it, and thou'lt find  
How sweet it is to meet with one that's kind,  
That loves and honours thee as much as thou  
Thy sour and cruel Amarillis; how  
Delightful 'tis to have a joy as great  
As is thy love, a happiness complete  
As thy own wish: to have thy Mistress twine  
About thy neck, and her sighs echo thine:  
And after say, My Joy, all that I have,  
All that I am, and thy desires can crave,  
At thy devotion is: If I am fair,  
For thee I'm fair; for thee I deck this hair,  
This face, this bosom; from this breast of mine  
I turned out my own heart to harbour thine.—  
But this is a small river to that vast  
Sweet sea of pleasure which love makes us taste,  
And they alone that taste can well relate.  Mir. 
A thousand thousand times most fortunate  
Is he that's born under so blessed a star!  Cor. 
Hear me Mirtillo: (ere I was aware  
I'd almost called him mine) a Nymph as fair  
As the proudest she that curls or spreads to th' air  
Her golden tresses, worthy of thy love  
As thou of hers, the honour of this Grove,  
Love of all hearts; by every worthier swain  
In vain solicited, adored in vain,  
Doth love thee only, and thee only prize  
More than her life, and more than her own eyes.  
Mirtillo, scorn her not, if wise thou be;  
For as the shadow doth the body, she  
Will follow thee through all the world: she will  
At thy least word and beck be ready still  
As thy obedient handmaid: night and day  
With thee she'll pass the tedious hours away.  
Ah! do not wave (Mirtillo) do not wave  
So rare a bliss; the perfectest joys we have  
Are those which neither sighs nor tears do cost,  
Nor danger, and on which least time is lost.  
Here thou hast pastime at thy door, a feast  
Upon the table always ready dressed  
To please thy taste. Ay me! canst thou receive  
A greater gift than this? Mirtillo, Leave,  
Leave this cold hunting after flying feet,  
And her that runs to thy embraces, meet.  
Nor do I feed thee with vain hopes; command  
Her come, and she that loves thee is at hand,  
Now, if thou say the word.  Mir. 
I prithee rest  
Content, my palate is not for a feast.  Cor. 
Try but what joy is made of once, and then  
Return unto thy wonted grief again,  
That thou mayst say, thou hadst a taste of both.  Mir. 
" Distempered palates all sweet things do loath.  Cor. 
Yet do't in pity unto her that dies,  
Unless sh' enjoy the fun of thy fair eyes.  
Uncharitable youth, art not thou poor?  
And canst thou beat a beggar from thy door?  
Ah! what thou wouldst another should extend  
To thee, do thou now to another lend.  Mir. 
What alms can beggars give? In short, I swore  
Allegiance to that Nymph whom I adore,  
Whether she tyrant proved, or merciful.  Cor. 
O truly blind, and most unhappy, dull  
Mirtillo! who is't thou art constant to?  
I am unwilling to add woe to woe;  
But thou art too much wronged I' faith, and I  
That love thee am not able to stand by  
And see thee so betrayed. If thou suppose  
This cruelty of Amarillis grows  
From zeal to virtue or Religion,  
thouart gulled: another doth possess the throne,  
And thou (poor wretch!) whilst he doth laugh, must cry.  
What, stricken dumb?  Mir. 
I'm in an ecstasy,  
'Twixt life and death suspended, till I know  
Whether I should believe thee now or no.  Cor. 
Dost not believe me then?  Mir. 
If I did, I  
Had not survived it sure: and I will die  
Yet, if it be a truth.  Cor. 
Live (Caitiff) live  
To be revenged.  Mir. 
But I cannot believe  
It is a truth.  Cor. 
Wilt thou not yet believe,  
But force me to tell that which it will grieve  
Thy soul to hear? Dost thou see yonder cave?  
That is thy Mistress Faith's and Honour's grave:  
There laughs shalt thee, there makes of thy annoy  
A poignant sauce to thy tired Rivals joy.  
In short; there oft a base-born shepherd warms  
Thy virtuous Amarillis in his arms.  
Now go and sigh, and whine, and constant prove  
Unto a Nymph that thus rewards thy love.  Mir. 
Ay me Corisca! dost thou tell me true?  
And is it fit I should believe thee too?  Cor. 
The more thou searchest, 'twill the worser be.  Mir. 
But didst thou see't Corisca? woe is me!  Cor. 
Truth is, I did not see it, but thou mayst,  
And presently, for she her word hath past  
To meet him there this very hour: But hide  
Thyself beneath that shady hedges side,  
And thou thyself shalt see her straight descend  
Into the cave, and after her, her friend.  Mir. 
So quickly must I die?  Cor. 
See! I have spied  
Her coming down already by the side  
O'th' Temple: mark! how guiltily she moves!  
Her stealing pace betraying their stolen loves.  
To mark the sequel, do thou here remain,  
And afterwards we two will meet again.  Mir. 
Since the discovery of the truth's so near,  
With my belief I will my death defer.   

Scena septima.  AMARILLIS. 
" NO mortal work successfully is done  
" Which with th'immortal gods is not begun.  
Full of distractions, and with heavy heart  
I did from hence unto the Temple part:  
Whence (Heaven be praised) I come as light as air,  
And strangely comforted: for at my prayer  
Pure and devout, I felt from thence, (me thought)  
Another soul into my body shot,  
Which whispered, Fear not Amarillis, go  
Securely on. ay, and I will do so,  
Heaven guiding.— Fair Mother of Love, befriend  
Her that on thee for succour doth depend:  
Thou that as Queen in the third Orb dost shine,  
If e'er thou feltst thy Son's flames, pity mine.  
Bring (courteous Goddess) by a secret path  
Quickly that youth to whom I've pawned my faith.  
And thou dear cave, till I have done my work,  
Suffer this slave of Love in thee to lurk.  
But Amarillis, all the coast is clear,  
None nigh to see thee, and none nigh to hear;  
Securely enter. O Mirtillo, O  
Mirtillo, if thou dream'dst wherefore I go!—   

Scena octava.  MIRTILLO. 
I Wake, and see, what I could wish t'have been  
Born without eyes, that I might not have seen:  
Or rather not to have been born. Cursed Fate!  
Why hast thou thus prolonged my life's date,  
To bring me to this killing spectacle?  
Mirtillo, more tormented then in hell  
The blackest soul is, not to doubt thy grief?  
Not to be able to suspend belief?  
Thou, thou hast heard and seen't: thy Mistress is  
Another man's. And (which is worse) not his  
Whose by the world's Laws she was bound to be,  
But by Love's Laws snatched both from him and thee.  
O cruel Amarillis! to undo  
This wretched man, and then to mock him too  
With that unconstant mouth which once did meet,  
And once did call Mirtillo's kisses sweet:  
But now his loathed name (which haply rose  
Like bitter drink that 'gainst the stomach goes)  
Because it should not bitterness impart  
To thy delight, hath spewed out of thy heart?  
Since therefore she who gave thee life, hath ta'en  
That life away, and given it again  
'T another: why dost thou thy life survive,  
Wretched Mirtillo? Why art thou alive?  
die, die Mirtillo unto grief and smart,  
As unto joy already dead thou art.  
die, dead Mirtillo; since thy life is so,  
Let thy pangs likewise be concluded. Go  
Out of the anguish of this death, which still  
Keeps thee alive, that it may longer kill.  
But shall I die then unrevenged? Sure  
I'll slay him first that did my death procure.  
I will dispense with my dire love of death  
Till I have justly ta'en away his breath  
Who slew my heart unjustly. Yield stout grief▪  
To anger, death to life, till in my life  
I have avenged my death.  
Let not this steel be drunken with the flood  
Of its own Master's unrevenged blood:  
Nor this right hand be pity's, till it hath  
First made itself the Minister of wrath.  
Thou that enjoyest my spoils (what ere thou be)  
Since I must fall, I'll pull thee after me.  
In the same brake I'll plant myself again;  
And when I spy him coming to the den,  
Will rush upon him with this piercing dart  
At unawares, and strike him through the heart.  
But is't not base to strike him out of sight?  
It is: defy him then to single fight,  
Where valour may my justice prove. But no:  
This place is unto all so known, and so  
Frequented, that some swains may interpose:  
Or (which is worse) inquire of me whence grows  
Our quarrel; which if I deny, 'tis naught  
They'll think; if feign a cause, I may be caught  
Then in a lie; if tell't, her name will be  
Blasted with everlasting infamy:  
In whom, although I never can approve  
That which I see, yet I must ever love  
That which I fancied, and did hope t' have seen,  
And that which ought (I'm sure) in her t'have been.  
die basely then the base Adulterer,  
Who hath slain me, and hath dishonoured her.  
ay, but the blood may (if I kill him here)  
The murder show, and that the Murderer?  
What do I care? ay, but the murderer known,  
Bewrays the cause for which the murder's done.  
So this ungrateful woman runs the same  
Hazard this way of shipwrak in her fame.  
Enter the cave then, and assault him there.  
Good, good; tread softly, softly, lest she hear:  
That she's at th'other end her words employed.  
Now (hid with branches) in the Rock's left side  
There is a hollow at the steep stairs foot,  
There without any noise, I'll wait to put  
In execution my design. My foe  
Dispatched, his bleeding carcase I will throw  
To my she-foe, to be revenged on two  
At once. The felf-same steel I'll then imbrue  
In mine own blood: so three shall die in brief,  
Two by my weapon, and the third of grief.  
A sad and miserable tragedy  
Of both her Lovers shall this Tigress see,  
Of him she loves, and him she scorns. And this  
Cave which was meant the chamber of their bliss,  
To her and to her minion shall become  
And (which I more desire) t' her shame, a tomb.  
But you dear footsteps (which I long have traced  
In vain) unerring path, lead me at last  
To where my Love is hid; To you I bow,  
Your print I follow. O Corisca! now  
I do believe thee: now thouhast told me true.   

Scena nona.  satire. 
DOes he believe Corisca? and pursue  
Her steps to Erycina's Cave? a beast  
Hath wit enough to apprehend the rest.  
But if thou dost believe her, thou hadst need  
Have from her good security indeed,  
And hold her by a stronger tie than I  
Had lately of her hair. But stronger tie  
On her there cannot be then gifts. This bold  
Strumpet herself to this young swain hath sold.  
And here, by the false light now of this vault  
Delivers the bad ware which he hath bought.  
Or rather, 'tis heavens' justice which hath sent  
Her hither to receive her punishment  
From my revenging hands. His words did seem  
T'imply she made some promise unto him;  
Which he believed: and by his spying here  
Her print, that she is in the cave, 'tis clear.  
Do a brave thing then: stop the mouth o'th' cave  
With that great hanging stone, that they may have  
No means of scaping; to the Priest then go,  
And bring by the backway (which few do know)  
His ministers to apprehend, and by  
The Law deservedly to make her die.  
For 'tis not unto me long since unknown,  
That she contracted is to Coridon,  
However he (because he stands in fear  
Of me) to lay his claim to her forbear.  
But now I'll give him leave at once to be  
Revenged on her both for himself and me.  
But I lose time in talk. From this young Grove  
I'll pull a tree up by the root, to move  
The stone withal. So, this I think will do.  
How heavy 'tis! The stone hath a root too.  
What if I mined it with this trunk? and so,  
As with a leaver heaved it from below?  
Good, good; now to the other side as much.  
How fast it sticks? I did not think it such  
A difficult attempt as it hath proved;  
The Centre of the earth were easier moved.  
Nor strength, nor skill will do this work I, see:  
Or does that vigour which was once in me  
Now fail me at my need? What do ye do  
My perverse Stars? I will, (in spite of you)  
I will remove it yet. The Devil haule  
Corisca, (I had almost said) and all  
The sex of them. O Pan Liceus, hear,  
And to move this, be moved by my prayer!  
Pan, thou that all things canst, and all things art,  
Thou once thyself didst woo a stubborn heart,  
Revenge on false Corisca now, thine own  
And my despised Love. I move the stone  
Thus by the virtue of thy sacred name;  
Thus rowls it by the virtue of the same.  
So, now the Fox is trapped, and finely shut  
Where she had earthed herself. I'll now go put  
Fire to the hole; where I could wish to find  
The rest of women, to destroy the kind.  

CHORUS.  
O Love! how potent and how great thou art!  
Wonder of nature and the world! What heart  
So dull, as not to feel thy power? What wit  
So deep and piercing, as to fathom it?  
Who knows thy hot lascivious fires; will say,  
Infernal spirit, thou dost live and sway  
In the corporeal part. But who so knows  
How thou dost men to virtuous things dispose,  
And how the dying flame of loose desires  
Looks pale, and trembles at thy chaster fires;  
Will say, Immortal God, i'th' soul alone  
Thou hast established thy sacred Throne.  
" Rare Monster! wonderfully got betwixt  
" Desire and Reason; an affection mixed  
" Of sense and intellect: With knowing wild:  
" With seeing blind: A God, and yet a child:  
And (such) thou sway'st the Earth and Heaven too;  
On which thou treadest as we on t'other do.  
Yet (by thy leave) a greater miracle,  
A mightier thing than thou art I can tell.  
For all thou dost (that may our wonder claim)  
Thou dost by virtue of a woman's name.  
Woman! the gift of heaven; or of him rather  
Who made thee fairer, being of both the Father,  
Wherein is Heaven so beautiful as thou?  
That rowls one goggle eye in its vast brow  
(Like a grim Cyclops) not a lamp of light,  
But cause of blindness and Cimmerian night  
To the bold gazer: if that s●e●k, it is  
A thundering voice; and if it sigh, the hiss  
Of earth-engendred winds. Thou, with the fair  
Angel-like prospect of two Suns, which are  
Serene and visible, dost still the winds  
And calm the Billows of tempestuous minds;  
And Sound, Light, Motion, Beauty, Majesty,  
Make in thy face so sweet a harmony,  
That heaven (I mean this outward heaven) must needs  
Confess thy form the form of that exceeds:  
Since beauty that is dead less noble is  
Then that which lives, and is a place of bliss.  
With reason therefore man (that gallant creature,  
That lords it over all the works of Nature)  
To thee as Lady Paramount pays duty,  
acknowledging in thine, thy Maker's beauty.  
And if he Triumphs gain, and Thrones inherit,  
It is not because thou hast less of merit;  
But for thy glory: since a greater thing  
It is to conquer, then to be a King.  
But that thy conquering beauty doth subdue  
Not only man, but even his Reason too,  
If any doubt, he in Mirtillo hath  
A miracle that may constrain his faith.  
This wanted (Woman) to thy power before  
To make us love when we can hope no more.     

Actus Quartus.  

Scena Prima.  CORISCA. 
MY heart and thoughts till now were so much set  
To train that foolish Nymph into my net,  
That may dear Hair (which by that Rogue was ta'en  
From me) and how to get it back again  
I quite forgot: O how it troubled me  
To pay that ransom for my liberty!  
But 't had been worse t' have been a prisoner  
To such a beast: Who though he doth not bear  
A mouse's heart, might have mouzed me: For I  
Have (to say truth) fooled him sufficiently:  
And like a Horseleech did him suck and drain  
As long as he had blood in any vein.  
And now he's moved I love him not; and moved  
He well might be, if him I e'er had loved.  
How can one love a creature that doth want  
All that is lovely? As a stinking plant  
Which the Physician gathered for the use  
He had of it; when he hath strained the juice  
And virtue out, is on the dunghill thrown;  
So having squeezed him, I with him have done.  
Now will I see if Coridon into  
The cave's descended. Ha! what do I view?  
Wake I? or sleep I? or am drunk? but now  
This cave's mouth open was I'm sure; then how  
Comes it now shut? and with a ponderous  
And massy stone rolled down upon it thus?  
Earthquake I'm sure t' unhenge it there was none.  
Would I knew certainly that Coridon  
And Amarillis were within; and then  
I cared not how it came. he's in the den,  
If (as Lisetta said) he parted were  
From home so long ago. Both may be there,  
And by Mirtillo shut together." Love,  
" Pricked with disdain, hath strength enough to move  
" The world, much more a stone. Should it be true,  
Mirtillo could not have devised to do  
Aught more according to my heart then this,  
Though he Corisca had enthroned in his  
In stead of Amarillis. I will go  
The back way in, that I the truth may know.   

Scena secunda.  DORINDA, LINCO. Dor. 
BUt Linco, didst not thou know me indeed?  Lin. 
Who could have known thee in this savage weed  
For meek Dorinda? But if I had been  
A ravenous hound (as I am Linco) than  
I to thy cost had known thee for a beast.  
What do I see? What do I see?  Dor. 
Thou seest  
A sad effect of Love; a sad and strange  
Effect of loving (Linco.)  Lin. 
Wondrous change!  
Thou a young Maid, so soft, so delicate,  
That wert (me thinks) an infant but of late,  
Whom in mine arms I bore (as I may say)  
A very little child but yesterday,  
And steering thy weak steps, taught thee to name  
(When I thy Father served) Daddy and Mam,  
Who like a timorous do (before thy heart  
Was made a prey t' insulting Love) didst start  
At every thing that on the sudden stirred,  
At every wind, at every little bird  
That shook a bough, each Lizard that but ran  
Out of a bush, made thee look pale and wan;  
Now all alone o'er hills, through woods dost pass  
Fearless of hounds or savage beasts.  Dor. 
Alas!  
" She whom Love wounds no other wound doth fear.  Lin. 
Indeed fair Nymph, Love showed his godhead here,  
From woman to a man transforming thee,  
Or rather to a wolf.  Dor. 
If thou couldst see  
Into my breast (O Linco!) then thou'dst say,  
A living wolf upon my heart doth prey  
As on a harmless lamb.  Lin. 
Is Silvio  
That wolf?  Dor. 
Alas, who else can be 't?  Lin. 
And so  
▪ Cause he's a wolf, thou a shee-wolf wouldst be,  
To try, since on thy humane visage he  
Was not enamoured, if he would at least  
Affect thee in the likeness of a beast,  
As being of his kind. But prithee where  
Got'st thou these robes?  Dor. 
I'll tell thee: I did hear  
Silvio would chase to day the noble Boar  
At Erimanthus foot; and there before  
The morning peeped, was I from wood to wood  
Hunting the Hunter; by a crystal flood  
From which our flocks did climb the hills, I found  
Melampo the most beauteous Silvio's hound,  
Who having quenched his thirst there as I guess,  
Lay to repose him on the neighbouring grass.  
ay, who love any thing that's Silvio's,  
Even the very ground on which he goes,  
And shadow which his beauteous limbs do cast;  
Much more the dog on which his love is placed,  
Stooping laid sudden hold on him, who came  
Along with me as gently as a lamb.  
And whilst 'twas in my thoughts to lead him back  
Unto his Lord and mine, hoping to make  
A friend of him with what he held so dear,  
He came himself to seek him, and stopped here.  
Dear Linco, I'll not lose thee so much time,  
As to tell all that's passed 'twixt me and him;  
This only, to be brief, After a long  
Preface of oaths on one another strung,  
And treacherous promises, this cruel swain  
Flung from me full of Anger and disdain,  
Both with his own Melampo (to his Lord  
So true) and with my deer and sweet reward.  Lin. 
O cruel Silvio! ruthless swain! But what  
Didst thou do then (Dorinda?) didst thou not  
Hate him for this?  Dor. 
Rather (as if the fire  
Of his disdain Loves fire had been) his ire  
Increased my former flame. His steps I trace,  
And thus pursuing him towards the chase,  
I met (hard by) with my Lupino, whom  
Before a little I had parted from.  
When straight it came into my head, that I  
In his attire, and in the company  
Of shepherds might be thought a shepherd too,  
And undiscovered my fair Silvio view.  Lin. 
In a wolves likeness amongst hounds? and none  
Bite thee? 'Tis much (Dorinda) thou hast done.  Dor. 
This (Linco) was no miracle: for they  
Durst not touch her who was their Master's prey.  
There I, out of the tents, amidst the crew  
Of neighbouring shepherds that were met to view  
The famous pastime, stood admiring more  
To see the Huntsman, than the hunted Boar:  
At every motion of the furious beast,  
My cold heart shiv'red in my breast:  
At every action of the brave young man  
My soul with all her touched affections ran  
In to his aid. But my extreme delight  
Again was poisoned with the horrid sight  
Of the fierce Boar, whose strength and vast  
Proportion, all proportion past.  
As an impetuous whirlwind in a great  
And sudden storm, which all that it doth meet  
(Houses, and trees, and stones) before it bears,  
All it can get within its circle tears  
To pieces in an instant: so the Boar  
Wheeling about (his tusks all foam and gore)  
Piled in one heap dogs slain, spears knapped, men wounded.  
How oft did I desire to have compounded  
For Silvio's life, with the enraged Swine!  
And for his blood, t' have given the Monster mine!  
How oft was I about to run between,  
And with my body his fair body screen!  
Spare cruel Boar, (how often did I cry!)  
Spare my fair Silvio's breast of Ivory;  
Thus to myself I spoke, and sighed, and prayed;  
When his fierce dog (armed with a breastplate made  
Of hard and scaly barks of trees) he slipped  
After the beast, now prouder, being dipped  
Thoroughly in blood, and lifted from the ground  
On slaughtered trunks. The valour of that hound  
(Linco) exceeds belief: and Silvio  
Not without reason surely loves him so.  
As a chafed Lion, which now meets, now turns  
From an untamed Bulls well brandished horns,  
If once he come with his strong paw to seize  
Upon his shoulder, masters him with ease:  
So bold Melampo shunning with fine slights  
The Boar's short turns, and rapid motion, lights  
At length upon his ear; which having bit  
Quite through, and lugged him twice or thrice by it,  
He with his teeth so nailed him to the ground,  
That at his vast bulk now a mortal wound  
Might leveled be with greater certainty,  
(Before but slghtly hurt) then suddenly  
My lovely Silvio (calling on the name  
Of Diana) Goddess do thou give me aim  
(Quoth he) the horrid head is thine. This sed,  
His golden Quiver's swiftest shaft to th' head  
He drew; which flying to that very point  
Where the left shoulder knits with the neck joint,  
There wounded the fierce Boar, so down he fell.  
Then I took breath, seeing my Silvio well,  
And out of danger. Happy beast! to die  
So sweet a death, as by that hand, which I  
Would beg my end from.  Lin. 
But what then became  
Of the slain beast?  Dor. 
I know not; for I came  
Away, for fear of being known; but, I  
Suppose, the head to th' Temple solemnly  
They'll bear, according to my Silvio's vow.  Lin. 
But wilt thou not get out of these weeds now?  Dor. 
Yes: but my garments with my other gear  
Lupino has, who promised to stay here  
With them, but fails. Dear Linco, if thou love  
Me, seek him for me up and down this grove:  
Far off he cannot be; mean while I'll take  
A little rest (dost see there?) in that Brake;  
There I'll expect thee; for I am o'ercome  
With weariness and sleep, and will not home  
Accoutred thus.  Lin. 
I go: but stir not then  
Out of that place till I return again.   

Scena tertia.  CHORUS, ERGASTO. Cho. 
HAve ye heard Shepherds that our Demy-God  
(Montano's and Alcides' worthy blood)  
This day hath freed us from that dreadful beast  
Which all Arcadia lately did infest?  
And that he is preparing himself now  
i'th' Temple for it to perform his vow?  
If for so great a benefit we'd show  
Our gratitude, to meet him let us go,  
And join our tongues and hearts together there,  
To honour him as our Deliverer.  
" Which honour, though it be reward too small  
" For such a fair and valiant soul; 'tis all  
" Virtue can have on earth.  Erg. 
O sad disaster!  
O bitter chance! O wound that hath no plaster!  
O day to be for ever steeped in tears!  Cho. 
What doleful voice is this that strikes our ears?  Erg. 
Stars, that are enemies to man always,  
Why do you mock our faith? why do you raise  
Our hope on high, that when it falls again  
The precipice may be with greater pain?  Cho. 
Ergasto by his voice; and it is he.  Erg. 
But why do I accuse Heaven wrongfully?  
Accuse thyself Ergasto: Thou alone,  
Thou, thou against the steel didst knock the stone;  
Thou layd'st the match unto the tinder; whence  
A flame unquenchable is kindled since.  
But Heaven doth know, I for the best did do it,  
And pity only did induce me to it.  
O ill starred Lovers! wretched Titiro!  
Poor Amarillis! childless Father! O  
Mourning Montano! O Arcadia gone  
In a consumption far! and we undone!  
In short, most sad, all I have seen! or see!  
Or speak! or hear! or think!  Cho. 
What may this be  
(Alas!) that in one accident alone  
Includes a general desolation?  
This way he bends his course, let us go meet  
Him (swains).  Erg. 
Eternal Gods! is it not yet  
Time to abate your wrath?  Cho. 
Unfold to us  
(Courteous Ergasto) what afflicts thee thus.  
What dost thou moan?  Erg. 
Your ruin and mine own:  
The ruin of Arcadia I moan.  Cho. 
Alas! why so?  Erg. 
The very staff, the stay  
Of all our hope is broke, is pulled away.  Cho. 
Speak plainer.  Erg. 
Titiro's daughter, that sole prop  
Of her old House, and Father, the sole hope  
Of our deliverance, promised here below,  
Above decreed to marry Silvio,  
As th' only means that should Arcadia save;  
That Heavenly Maid, so sober, and so grave,  
That Precedent of honour (crowned with Lilies  
Of chastity) that peerless Amarillis;  
She, she (alas! I have no heart, no breath  
To tell it you).  Cho. 
Is dead?  Erg. 
Is near her death.  Cho. 
Alas! what have we heard?  Erg. 
Nothing as yet:  
She dies a malefactresse: That, That's it.  Cho. 
A malefactresse Amarillis? how Ergasto?  Erg. 
Caught with an adulterer now.  
And, if ye stay a little longer here,  
Led pinioned to the Temple ye shall see her.  Cho. 
" O female structures, glorious and most fair,  
" But weak withal! O chastity, how rare  
Art thou! and shall it then be truly taxed,  
No woman's chaste but she that ne'er was akst?  Erg. 
Indeed, when she that's virtue's self doth fall,  
We well may doubt the virtue of them all.  Cho. 
Pray, if it will not too much trouble be,  
Tell the whole story to these swains and me.  Erg. 
I will: The Priest early to day (ye know)  
Did with this wretched Nymph's sad Father go  
Unto the sacred Temple; with one care  
Both moved, to facilitate with prayer  
Their children's desired marriage. For this end  
At once their incense did to heaven ascend,  
At once their offerings bled, their sacrifice  
At once was done with due solemnities,  
And such glad auspice, that no entrails e'er  
Were fairer seen, no flame was more sincere,  
And less eclipsed with smoke: moved with such signs,  
Thus the blind prophet speaks, and thus divines;  
This day (Montano) shall thy Silvio love:  
Thy Daughter (Titiro) a wife shall prove:  
Go and prepare the Marriage. O absurd,  
And vain depending on an Augur's word!  
And thou as blind in soul, as in thy eyes!  
If thou hadst said, Prepare her Obsequies,  
Then a true Prophet thou hadst proved indeed.  
Yet all the standers by were comforted,  
And the old Fathers wept for joy apace,  
And Titiro was parted from the place.  
When in the Temple suddenly were heard  
Sinister omens, and dire signs appeared  
Boding heavens' wrath. At which (alas!) if each  
Stood there astonished and bereavest of speech  
After so fair beginnings, Friends, judge you.  
Mean while the Priests themselves alone withdrew  
Into an inner room: and whilst they there  
And we without intent in praying were,  
Devout and weeping; puffing through the press  
The curled satire (lo!) demands access  
Unto the Priests. I (Porter of that place)  
Admit him: He then (O he has a face  
To bring ill news!) cried; Fathers, if your Prayer  
Find not the Gods, your vows and incense are  
Not acceptable, and your sacrifice;  
If from your altars an impure flame rise,  
Think it not strange, that likewise is impure  
Which is committing now hard by your door,  
In Ericina's cave: a false Nymph there  
Is breaking with a base adulterer  
Your laws, and her own faith. Send with me now  
Your Ministers, and I will show them how  
I'th' act to take 'em. Then (O humane mind,  
When thy Fate's near, how dull thou art! how blind!)  
The good Priests breath'd: supposing 'twas no more  
But remove them, and Heaven would as before  
Look on their sacrifice beni'nely. There-  
Upon they order their chief Minister  
Nicandro presently to take that guide,  
And bring both Lovers to the Temple tied:  
With all his under-ministers he goes,  
Pursuing that vile satire through a close  
And crooked way into the cave. The Maid,  
Struck with their torches sudden light, assayed  
From where she was to run out of the door,  
Which that base dog had stopped (it seems) before.  Cho. 
And what did he the while?  Erg. 
He went his ways  
When he had led Nicandro to the place.  
But (friends) I cannot tell the general  
Astonishment that fell upon us all,  
When it the Daughter proved of Titiro:  
Who taken, in a trice (I do not know  
Out of what place) forth bold Mirtillo flew,  
And a sharp dart which he was armed with threw  
Like lightning at Nicandro: which, if it  
The place that it was aimed at had hit,  
Had sent him to the shades: But (whether I  
May call it Fortune, or agility)  
At the same instant the one aimed his blow,  
The other stepped a little backward; so  
The mortal steel passed by, leaving his breast  
Untouched, and in his coat of skins did rest,  
Into the which (I know not how) 'twas wove  
So intricately, that Mirtillo strove  
In vain to pull it out; and so he too  
Was taken.  Cho. 
And with him what did they do?  Erg. 
He to the Temple by himself was brought.  Cho. 
For what?  Erg. 
To try if he'd discover aught  
Touching the fact in question. Perhaps too  
Th' affront he in their Minister did do  
Unto the priestly majesty might some  
Penance deserve. Would yet I might have come  
To comfort my poor friend!  Cho. 
What hindered thee?  Erg. 
The waiters at the altar may not be  
Admitted to delinquents: therefore I  
Sequestered from the other company,  
Go by myself unto the Temple; where  
With many a prayer and devouter tear  
I'll beg of Heaven that it would chase away  
This sullen storm that overclouds our day.  
Dear Shepherd's rest in peace, and join with ours  
Your prayers, to batter the celestial towers.  Cho. 
We will, when we have paid to Silvio  
That duty first we to his goodness owe.  
O ye great Gods! now, now, if ever, prove  
Your anger less eternal than your love.   

Scena quarta.  CORISCA. 
Impale ye triumph-decking Laurel boughs,  
Impale my glorious and victorious brows.  
Into Love's lists (hedged round about with flame)  
This day I came, I saw, I overcame:  
This day hath Heaven and Earth, Nature and Art,  
Fortune and Fate, Friend and Foe ta'en my part.  
Even that base satire who abhors me so  
Hath helped me too, as if he too did go  
Some share with me. How much more happily  
Did fortune bring Mirtillo in, than I  
Contrived to have brought Coridon? to make  
Her crime more show of likelihood to take?  
And though Mirtillo's apprehended too,  
That matters not; they soon will let him go:  
Th' Adultress only pays the penalty.  
O famous triumph! Solemn victory!  
If lying may deserve a trophy, I  
Deserve a trophy for my amorous lie;  
Which from this tongue and bosom hath done more  
For me then Love with all his charms before.  
But this is not a time to talk: Withdraw  
Thyself Corisca, till the doom of Law  
Fall on thy Rival's head, for fear that she  
T' excuse herself, should lay the blame on thee.  
Or that the Priest himself should wish to know  
What thou canst say, before he give the blow.  
" When a mine springs, 'tis good to stand aloof;  
" A lying tongue requires a flying hoof.  
I'll hide me in those woods, and there will make  
Some stay, till it be time to come and take  
Possession of my joys. O! it hath hit  
Beyond all thought. Success hath crowned my wit.   

Scena quinta.  NICANDRO, AMARILLIS. Nic. 
A Heart of flint, or rather none had he  
Nor humane sense, that could not pity thee,  
Unhappy Nymph! and for thy sorrow grieve  
The more, by how much less they can believe  
This should befall thee, who have known thee best.  
For were it but to see a Maid distressed  
Of venerable countenance, and that showed  
So virtuous and so excellently good;  
One that for heavenly beauty merited  
Temples and Sacrifices, to be led  
Unto the Temple as a Sacrifice,  
Who could behold it without melting eyes?  
But he that should consider further, how,  
And for what purpose thou wert born; That thou  
Art Daughter unto Titiro, and should  
Have married been unto Montano's blood,  
(Two the most loved and honoured shall I say  
Shepherds, or Fathers of Arcadia?)  
And that being such, so great, so famous, and  
So beautiful a Nymph, and that did stand  
By nature so remote from thy death's brink,  
Thou shouldst be now condemned. He that doth think  
On this and weeps not, wails not thy mishap,  
Is not a man, but wolf in humane shape.  Am. 
If my mishap had come through mine own fault,  
And the effect had been of an ill thought  
As of a deed that seems ill, it had been  
Less grievous to me to have death pay sin;  
And very just it were I should have spilled  
My blood to wash my impure soul from guilt,  
To quench heavens' wrath; and since man too had wrong,  
Pay what to human justice did belong:  
So might I still a crying conscience,  
And mortified with a due inward sense  
Of deserved death, render myself more fit  
To die, and through that purgatory get  
Perchance to Paradise. But now in all  
My pride of youth and fortune thus to fall,  
Thus innocent, is a sad case, a sad—  
Nicandro.  Nic. 
Nymph, would to Heaven men had  
Sinned against thee, rather than thou 'gainst Heaven.  
For satisfaction might be easier given  
To thee for thy wronged Fame, then unto it  
For its wronged Deities. Nor know I yet  
Who wronged thee but thyself. Wert thou not caught  
Alone with the adulterer in a vault?  
To Silvio precontracted wert not thou?  
And so thy nuptial faith hast broken? How  
Then innocent?  Am. 
For all this have not I  
Transgressed the Law: and innocently die.  Nic. 
Not Nature's law perchance, Love where thou wilt.  
But that of Men and Heaven, Love without guilt.  Am. 
Both men and Heaven (if all our fortune be  
Derived from thence) transgressed have against me.  
For what but an ill destiny could bid  
That I should die for what another did?  Nic. 
What was that Nymph? bridle thy tongue (with high-  
Flown grief transported even to blasphemy).  
" The ills we suffer our own sins pull down:  
" Heaven pardons many wrongs, but it doth none.  Am. 
I blame in Heaven only my own star:  
But one that hath deceived me, more by far.  Nic. 
Then blame thyself, thyself thou didst deceive.  Am. 
I did when I a coz'ner did believe.  Nic. 
" They who desire to be deceived, are not.  Am. 
Dost think me naught?  Nic. 
Nay ask thy actions that.  Am. 
" Actions are oft false comments on our hearts.  Nic. 
" Yet those we see, and not the inward parts.  Am. 
" The heart may be seen too with th' eyes o'th' mind.  Nic. 
" Without the senses help those eyes are blind.  Am. 
" The senses must submit to reasons sway.  Nic. 
" Reason in point of fact must sense obey.  Am. 
Well; I am sure an honest heart I have.  Nic. 
Prithee who brought thee then into the cave?  Am. 
My folly and too much credulity.  Nic. 
Thou trustedst with a friend thy honesty?  Am. 
I trusted a friends honesty.  Nic. 
Thy blood?  
Was that the friend thou wouldst have understood?  Am. 
Ormino's Sister, who betrayed me thither.  Nic. 
" 'Tis sweet when Lovers are betrayed together.  Am. 
Mirtillo entered without my consent.  Nic. 
How enter'dst thou then? and for what intent?  Am. 
Let this suffice, 'twas not for him I came.  Nic. 
It cannot, if no other cause thou name.  Am. 
Examine him about my innocence.  Nic. 
Him? who hath been the cause of thy offence?  Am. 
Call her to witness who betrayed me hath.  Nic. 
Why should we hear a witness without faith?  Am. 
By chaste Diana's dreadful name I swear.  Nic. 
Thou by thy deeds art perjured unto her.  
Nymph, I am plain, I cannot flatter thee  
Into a hope which in extremity  
Will leave thee more confounded; these are dreams.  
" A troubled fountain cannot yield pure streams,  
" Nor a bad heart good words. And where the deed  
" Is evident, Defence offence doth breed.  
What dost thou talk? thou shouldst have guarded more  
Than thy life now, thy chastity before.  
Why dost thou cheat thyself?  Am. 
O misery!  
Must I then die, Nicandro? must I die?  
None left to hear? none to defend me left?  
Of all abandoned? of all hope bereft?  
Only of such a mocking pity made  
The wretched object as affords no aid?  Nic. 
Be patient Nymph, and give me cause to tell,  
Though thou didst ill, yet that thou suffered'st well.  
Look up to heaven, since thence thou drawst thy birth;  
" All good or ill we meet with upon earth  
" From thence as from a fountain doth distil.  
" And as no good is here unmixed with ill,  
" So punishment, that's ill to flesh and blood,  
" As to th' account we must make there is good.  
And if my words have cut thee, 'tis but like  
A faithful Surgeon, who a vein doth strike,  
Or thrusts his instrument into the wound  
Where it is mortalest and most profound  
(In being cruel, merciful). Then be  
Content with what is writ in Heaven for thee.  Am. 
O 'tis a cruel sentence, whether it  
In heaven for me, or in earth be writ:  
Yet writ in heaven I'm certain it is not:  
For there my innocence is known. But what  
Doth that avail me, if that die I must?  
That's the straight narrow passage! to be dust,  
Nicandro, that's the bitter cup! But oh!  
By that compassion thou to me dost show,  
Lead me not to the Temple yet: stay, stay.  Nic. 
" Who fears to die, dies every hour o'th' day.  
Why hangest thou back? and drawest a painful breath?  
" Death hath no ill in't, but the fear of death.  
" And he that dies when he hath heard his doom,  
" Flies from his death.  Am. 
Perchance some help may come.  
Father, dear father, dost thou leave me too?  
An only daughter's father, wilt thou do  
Nothing to save me? Yet before I die  
A parting kiss to me do not deny.  
Two bosoms shall be pierced with one blow:  
And from thy daughter's wound thy blood must flow.  
O father! (once so sweet and dear a name,  
Which I was never wont t' invoke in vain)  
Thy beloved Daughter's Wedding callst thou this?  
To day a Bride; to day a Sacrifice.  Nic. 
Good Nymph no more: why dost thou bootlesly  
Stay thus tormenting both thyself and me?  
The time calls on: I must convey thee hence,  
Nor with my duty longer may dispense.  Am. 
Dear woods adieu then, my dear woods adieu:  
Receive these sighs (my last ones) into you,  
Till my cold shade, forced from her seat by dire  
And unjust steel, to your loved shades retire.  
(For sink to hell it can't, being innocent;  
Nor soar to heaven, laden with discontent.)  
Mirtillo, (O Mirtillo!) most accursed  
The day I saw, the day I pleased thee first!  
Since I, whom thou above thy life didst love,  
Became thy life, that thou my death mightst prove.  
She dies condemned for kindness now to thee,  
Whom thou hast still condemned of cruelty,  
I might have broke my faith as cheap: Ay me!  
Now without fault, or fruit I die, or Thee  
My dear Mirtill—  Nic. 
Alas! she dies indeed.  
(Poor wretch!) Come hither shepherds with all speed,  
Help me to hold her up. (O piteous case!)  
She finished in Mirtillo's name her Race.  
(Unhappy maid!)— she breathes yet, and I feel  
Some signs of life pant in her bosom still.  
To the next fountain let us carry her;  
Perchance cold water may recover there  
Her fleeting spirits.— Stay, will not relief  
Be cruelty to her who dies of grief,  
To prevent dying by the Axe? Howe'er,  
Yet let not us our charity forbear.  
" Men ought to lend their aid in present woe:  
" What is to come, none but the Gods foreknow.   

Scena sexta.  CHORUS of Huntsmen, with SILVIO. CHORUS of Shepherds, with SILVIO. Ch. Hun. 
O Glorious youth! true child of Hercules;  
That kill'st so soon such monstrous beasts as these!  Ch. Sh. 
O glorious youth! by whom lies slain and quelled  
This Erimanthian Monster, (living) held  
Invincible! Behold the horrid head,  
Which seems to breath death when itself is dead!  
This is the famous Trophy, noble Toil  
Of him whom we our Demigod do stile.  
Extol his great name (Shepherds) and this day  
Keep ever solemn, ever holy day.  Cho. Hunts. 
O glorious youth etc.  Ch. Sh. 
O glorious youth! that dost despise thine own  
For others safeties." Virtue climbs her Throne  
" By these steep stairs: and the high Gods have set  
" Before her Palace gates labour and sweat.  
" He that would land at joy must wade through woes:  
" Nor by unprofitable base repose  
" Abhorring labour, but from gallant deeds  
" And virtuous labour true repose proceeds.  Cho. Hunts. 
O glorious youth, etc.  Ch. Sh. 
O glorious youth! by whom these Plains deprived  
Of tillage, and of tilers long, retrieved  
Their fruitful honours have. The ploughman now  
Securely goes after the lazy plough,  
Sows his plump seed, and from earth's pregnant womb  
Expects the wished fruits when the season's come.  
No more shall churlish tusk, or churlish foot  
Trample them down, or tear them up by th' root.  
Nor shall they prosper so as to sustain  
A beast, to be their own, and others bane.  Cho. Hunts. 
O glorious youth! etc.  Cho. Shep. 
O glorious youth! as if presaging thine,  
The Have'n to day doth in full glory shine.  
Such peradventure was that famous Boar  
Alcides slew, yet so thy act is more;  
It being (Silvio) thy first labour, as  
Of thy great Ancestor the third it was.  
But with wild Beasts thy infant valour plays,  
To kill more monsters in thy riper days.  Cho. Hunts. 
O glorious youth! etc.  Cho. Sh. 
O glorious youth! how well are joined in thee  
Valour and piety! See Cynthia, see  
Thy devout Silvio's vow! behold with white  
And crooked tusk, (as if in thy despite)  
The proud head armed on this side and on that,  
Seeming thy silver horns to emulate!  
If then (O powerful Goddess) thou didst guide  
The young man's shaft, he is in justice tied  
To dedicate the Trophy unto thee  
By whom he did obtain the victory.  Cho. Hunts. 
O glorious youth, true child of Hercules,  
That killest so soon such monstrous beasts as these!   

Scena septima.  CORIDON. 
I Have forborn till now to credit what  
The satire told me of Corisca late,  
Fearing it might be some malicious lie  
Devised by him to shake my constancy.  
For most improbable it seemed, that she  
In the same place where she expected me  
(Unless the message which Lisetta brought  
To me from her were false) should straight be caught  
With an adulterer. And yet (the truth  
To say) here's a shrewd token, and it doth  
Perplex me much, to see the mouth o'th' den  
Just in that manner he related then  
Shut and damned up with such a massy stone.  
Ah false Corisca! too well by mine own  
Experience of thy ungracious deeds  
I know thee now: stumbling so oft, thou needs  
Must fall at last. So many frauds, so many  
Lies, and vow-breaches might have warned any  
(Whom folly or affection did not blear)  
That some such fearful tumbling cast was near.  
'Twas well for me I tarried by the way;  
A happy chance my father made me stay:  
Though then I did suppose him foolishly  
T' have been a tedious Remora. Had I  
Come at Lisetta's hour, I might have seen  
Something which poison to my eyes had been.  
But what shall I do now? armed with disdain,  
Shall I revenge and mischief entertain?  
No: I have loved her, and this act doth crave  
My pity, not my anger. Shall I have  
Pity on one deceived me? Me! she hath  
Deceived herself, leaving a man of faith,  
To give herself a prey into the hand  
Of an ignoble Swain, a stranger and  
A vagabond, that will to morrow be  
More wavering, more without faith then she.  
Shall I take pains then to revenge a wrong  
That carries with it the revenge along?  
And quenches all my indignation so,  
'Tis turned to pity? She hath scorned me though:  
Sh' has honoured me: for she who thus could choose,  
Highly commends the man she doth refuse.  
She scorned me, who the way did never know,  
How she should love receive, or how bestow.  
Who liked at random still, or had this curse,  
If two were offered her, to take the worse.  
But tell me Coridon, how can it be,  
If scorn of being scorned move not thee  
To take revenge; but that to have been crossed  
By such a loss should do't? I have not lost  
Her whom I never had: Myself I have  
Regained, whom I unto another gave.  
Nor can't a loss be termed to remain  
Without a woman so unsure and vain.  
In fine, What have I lost? Beauty without  
Virtue: A head with all the brains picked out:  
A breast that hath no heart: A heart that hath  
No soul in it: A soul that hath no faith.  
A shade, a ghost, a carcase of affection,  
Which will to morrow turn to putrefaction.  
Is this a loss? I will be bold to say 't,  
'Tis a great purchase and a fortunate.  
Is there no woman in the world but she?  
Can Coridon want Nymphs as fair as she,  
And far more true? But she may well want one  
Will love her with such faith as Coridon,  
Whom she deserved not. Now if I should do  
That which the satire did advise me to,  
Accusing her of vow-breach, in my breath  
I know it lies to have her put to death.  
But I have not an heart so Aspen, I,  
That with the wind of woman's levity  
It should be moved. Too great a happiness  
And honour 'twere to their perfidiousness,  
If with the trouble of a manly breast,  
And breaking of the happy peace and rest  
Of an ingenious soul, I were to be  
Revenged upon Corisca now. For me  
Then let her live: or (to express it better)  
By me not die, Live for my Rival let her.  
Her life's revenge for me sufficient:  
Live let her to dishonour; to repent:  
I know not how to envy him, or loathe  
Her; but with all my heart do pity both.   

Scena octava.  SILVIO, ECHO within. 

O Goddess of the slothful, blind, and vain,  
Who with foul hearts, Rites foolish and profane,  
Altars and Temples hauling to thy name!   

Temples? or Sanctuaries vile said I?  
To protect Lewdness and impiety,  
Under the robe of thy Divinity?   

And thou base Goddess: that thy wickedness,  
When others do as bad, may seem the less,  
Giv'st them the reins to all lasciviousness.   

Rotter of soul and body, enemy  
Of reason, plotter of sweet thee very,  
The little and great World's calamity.   

Reputed worthily the Ocean's daughter:  
That treacherous monster, which with even water  
First soothes, but ruffles into storms soon after.   

Such winds of sighs, such Cataracts of tears,  
Such breaking waves of hopes, such gulfs of fears,  
Thou mak'st in men, such rocks of cold despairs.   

Tides of desire so headstrong, as would move  
The world to change thy name, when thou shalt prove  
Mother of Rage and Tempests, not of Love.   

Behold what sorrow now and discontent  
On a poor pair of Lovers thou hast sent!  
Go thou, that vauntest thyself Omnipotent,   

Go faithless Goddess, save that Nymph whom thou  
Hast poisoned with thy sweets (if thou know'st how)  
From her swift deaths pursuing footsteps now.   

O what a happy day was that for me,  
When my chaste soul I did devote to thee  
Cynthia, my great and only Deity!   

True Goddess! unto whose particular shrine  
The fairest souls in all the Earth incline,  
As thou in Heaven dost all the Stars outshine.   

How much more laudable and free from pain  
The sports are which thy servants entertain,  
Then those of faithless Ericina's train!   

Wild Boars are killed by thy Worshippers:  
By wild Boars miserably killed are hers.  
O Bow, my strength and joy! My conquerors   

My Arrows! Let that bugbear Love come try  
And match with you his soft Artillery.  
They whom you wound do in good earnest die.   

But too much honour hence to thee would come,  
Vile and unwarlike Boy, to chastise whom  
(I speak't aloud) a rod's enough. Enough.  
What art thou that reply'st? Echo? or Love?  
That so doth imitate the same? The same.  
Most wished! but tell me true; Art thou he? He.  
The son of her that for Adonis once  
So miserably pined away? Away.  
Well: of that Goddess who was found in bed  
With Mars, when the stars shot to see her shame,  
And the chaste Moon blushed at her folly? O lie!  
What madness 'tis to whistle to the wind!  
Come (if thou darest) to the wide air, I dare.  
And I defy thee. But art thou her son  
Legitimate, or else a byblow? I glow.  
O! the Smith's son that's called a God. A God.  
Of what? the follies of the world? The world.  
The Bawd thou art. Art thou that terrible Boy  
That tak'st such sharp revenge upon those wights  
Who thy absurd commands digest not? jest not.  
What punishments dost thou inflict on those  
Who in rebellion persevere? Severe.  
And how shall I be punished, whose hard heart  
Hath always been at odds with Love? With Love.  
When (Sot), if my chaste breast be to those flames  
More opposite than night to day? To day.  
So quickly shall I be in that straight? Streight.  
What's she can bring me to adoring? Dorin.  
Dorinda, is it not, my little child,  
Thou wouldst say in thy lithping gibberish? Ish.  
She whom I hate more than the Lamb the Wolf?  
And who to this shall force my will? I will.  
And how? and with what Arms? and with what bow?  
Shall it be happily with thine? With thine.  
Thou mean'st perchance, when by thy wantonness  
It is unbent, and the nerve broken? Broken.  
Shall my own bow, after 'tis broken too,  
Make war on me? and who shall break't? thou? Thou.  
'Tis plain now thou art drunk: go sleep. But say,  
Where shall these miracles be wrought? here? Here.  
O fool! and I am going now from hence.  
See if thou hast not proved thyself to day  
A prophet with the wine inspired. Inspired.  
But stay, I see (unless I much mistake)  
A greyish thing at couch in yonder Brake:  
'Tis like a Wolf, and certainly 'tis one.  
O what a huge one 'tis! how overgrown!  
O day of prey to me! What favours are  
These, courteous goddess? in one day a pair  
Of such wild beasts to triumph o'er? But why  
Do I delay this work, my Deity?  
The swiftest and the keenest shaft that is  
In all my Quiver (let me see,— 'tis this)  
I do select: to thee I recommend it  
(O Archeresse eternal) do thou send it  
By Fortune's hand, and by thy power divine  
Guide it into the beast. His skin is thine.  
And in thy name I shoot. O lucky hit!  
Just where the eye and hand designed it.  
Would now I had my javelin here, to make  
An end of him at once, before he take  
The wood for shelter: but the place shall yield  
Me weapons. Not a stone in all the field?  
But why do I seek weapons, having these?  
This second arrow lays him at his ease.  
Alas! what do I see? what hast thou done,  
Unhappy Silvio? what hast thou run  
Thyself into? Thou hast a shepherd slain  
In a wolf's skin. O action to remain  
For ever overwhelmed with grief! to lie  
Under salt water everlastingly!  
The wretch too I should know, and he that so  
Doth lead and prop him up is Linco. O  
Vile arrow! viler vow! but vilest Thou  
That didst direct that arrow, hear that vow!  
I guilty of another's blood? I kill  
Another? I that was so free to spill  
My blood for others, and my life to give?  
Throw down thy weapons, and inglorious live,  
Shooter of men, hunter of men. But lo  
The wretched Swain! then thee less wretched though.    

Scena nona.  LINCO, SILVIO, DORINDA. Lin. 
LEan, daughter, on my arm with all thy weight,  
(Wretched Dorinda) do.  Sil. 
Dorinda's that?  
I'm a dead man.  Dor. 
O Linco, Linco! O  
My second Father!  Sil. 
'Tis Dorinda: woe,  
Woe on thee Silvio!  Dor. 
Linco, thou wert sure  
Ordained by Fate to be a stay to poor  
Dorinda. Thou receivedst my first cry  
When I was born: Thou wilt, now I'm to die,  
My latest groan: and these thy arms which were  
My cradle then, shall now become my bier.  Lin. 
Ah daughter! (or more dear than if thou wert  
My daughter) speak now to thee for my heart  
I can't, grief melts each word into a tear.  Dor. 
Not so fast Linco, if thou lov'st me: dear  
Linco, nor go, nor weep so fast; one rakes  
My wound too bad, t'other a new wound makes.  Sil. 
(Poor Nymph! how ill have I repaid thy love!)  Lin. 
Be of good comfort daughter, this will prove  
No mortal wound.  Dor. 
It may be so; but I  
That am a Mortal, of this wound shall die.  
Would I knew yet who hurt me!  Lin. 
Get thee sound,  
And let that pass:" Revenge ne'er cured a wound.  Sil. 
(Why dost thou stay? what mak'st thou in this place?  
Wouldst thou be seen by her? Hast thou the face?  
Hast thou the heart t'indure it? Silvio, flee  
From the sharp dart of her revenging eye:  
Fly from her tongues just sword. I cannot go  
From hence: and what it is I do not know,  
But something holds me, and would make me run  
To her whom I of all the world did shun.)  Dor. 
Must I then die and not my Murderer know?  Lin. 
'Twas Silvio.  Dor. 
How dost know 'twas Silvio?  Lin. 
I know his shaft.  Dor. 
Then welcome death, if I  
Shall owe thee to so sweet an enemy!  Lin. 
Look where he stands! we need demand no further,  
His posture and his face confess the murder  
Alone. Now Heaven be praised Silvio,  
Thy all-destroying Arrows and thy Bow  
Th' haste plied so well about these woods, that now  
The art gone out thy Arts-master. Tell me, thou  
That dost like Silvio, not like Linco, who  
Made this brave shoot, Linco or Silvio?  
This 'tis for boys to be so overwise:  
Would thou hadst taken this old fools advice!  
Answer, thou wretch: What lingering misery,  
What horror shalt thou live in if she die?  
I know thou'lt say, thou err'dst, and thought'st to strike:  
A Wolf: as if'twere nothing (schoolboy like)  
To shoot at all adventures, and not see,  
Nor care, whether a man or beast it be.  
What Goatherd, or what ploughman doth not go  
Clad in such skins? O Silvio, Silvio!  
" Soon ripe, soon rotten. If thou think (fond child)  
This chance by chance befell thee, th' art beguiled.  
" These monstrous things without Divine decree  
" Hap not to men. Dost thou not plainly see  
How this thy unsupportable disdain  
Of Love, the world, and all that is humane  
Displeases Heaven?" High Gods cannot abide  
" A Rival upon earth: and hate such pride,  
" Although in virtue. Now thouart mute, that wert  
Before this hap unsufferably pert.  Dor. 
Silvio, give Linco leave to talk: for he  
Knows not what power Love gave thee over me  
Of life and death. If thou hadst struck my heart,  
The hadst struck what's thine (mark proper for thy dart.)  
Those hands to wound me thy fair eyes have taught.  
See Silvio her thou hat'st so! see her brought  
To that extremity where thou wouldst see her!  
Thou soughtest to wound her, see her wounded here!  
To prey upon here, lo she is thy prey!  
Thou soughtest her death, and lo she's dying! Say,  
Wouldst thou aught else of her? What further joy  
Can poor Dorinda yield thee? Cruel Boy!  
And void of Bowels! thou wouldst ne'er believe  
That wound which from thy eyes I did receive:  
This which thy hands have given canst thou deny?  
Those crystal showers which issued from my eye,  
Thou couldst not be persuaded were my blood:  
What dost thou think now of this crimson flood  
Which my side weeps? But (if o'erwhelmed with scorn  
That bravery be not wherewith thou wert born)  
Deny me not (though cruel soul, yet brave)  
Deny me not ('tis all the boon I crave)  
When I shall sigh into thee my last breath,  
One sigh of thine. O happy, happy death!  
If thou vouchsafe to sweeten it with these  
Kind words and pious; Soul depart in peace.  Sil. 
Dorinda, my Dorinda, shall I say  
(Alas!) when I must lose thee the same day  
thouart mine? now mine, when death to thee I give,  
That wert not mine when I could make thee live?  
Yes mine I'll call thee: and thou mine shalt be  
In spite of my opposing destiny.  
For if thy death our meeting souls disjoin,  
My death shall reunite us. All that's mine  
Haste to revenge her: I have murdered thee  
With these cursed arrows; with them murder me.  
I have been cruel unto thee; and I  
Desire from thee nothing but cruelty.  
I scorned thee in my pride; look! with my knee  
(Low louting to the earth) I worship thee,  
And pardon of thee, but not life demand.  
Take Shafts and Bow: But do not strike my hand  
Or eye (bad ministers, 'tis true, yet still)  
But ministers of an unguilty will:  
Strike me this breast, this monster hence remove,  
Sworn enemy of Pity, and of Love.  
Strike me this heart, to thee so cruel. Lo,  
My bared breast!  Dor. 
I strike it, Silvio?  
I strike that breast? sure if thou didst not mock,  
Thou wouldst not show't me naked. O white rock!  
Already by the winds and briny main  
Of my rough sighs and tears oft struck in vain!  
But dost thou breath? nor art to pity barred?  
Art thou a tender breast, or marble hard?  
I would not idolise fair Alabaster,  
(Led by the humane likeness) as thy Master  
And mine, when on the outside he did look,  
A harmless woman for a beast mistook.  
I strike thee? strike thee Love. Nor can I wish  
For my revenge a greater plague than this.  
Yet must I bless the day that I took fire,  
My tears and martyrdom. All I desire  
Is that thou praise my faith, my zeal, but no  
Revenging me. But courteous Silvio,  
(That to thy servant kneel'st) why this to me?  
Or if Dorinda must thy Mistress be,  
Obey her then; the first command I give,  
Is that thou rise; the second, that thou live.  
heavens' Will be done with me: I shall survive  
In thee, and cannot die, whilst thou'rt alive.  
But if thou thinkst unjust I should be found  
Without all satisfaction for my wound,  
Be that, which did it, punished. 'Twas that Bow:  
Let that be broke; I'm well revenged so.  Lin. 
(A very heavy doom).  Sil. 
Come then thou mad,  
Thou bloody actor of a deed so sad:  
That thou mayst ne'er break thread of life again,  
Thus do I break thee and thy thread in twain,  
And send thee a useless trunk back to the wood.  
Nor you (ill sanguined with an innocents blood!)  
Which my dear Mistress side so rudely rent,  
(Brothers in ill) shall scape your punishment.  
Not shafts, nor flights, but sticks, since ye shall want  
Those wings and heads which garnished you: Avaunt  
Plumed and disarmed Arms. How well, O Love,  
Didst thou foretell me this from yonder grove  
In a prophetic Echo! O thou high  
Conqueror of Gods and men, once enemy,  
Now lord of all my thoughts! if 'tis thy glory  
To tame a heart that's proud and refractory,  
Divert Death's impious shaft, which with one blow  
Slaying Dorinda, will slay Silvio  
(Now thine): so cruel death, if it remove  
Her hence, will triumph o'er triumphant Love.  Lin. 
Now both are wounded: but the one in vain,  
Unless the other's wound be healed again.  
About it then.  Dor. 
Ah Linco! do not (pray)  
Carry me home disguised in this array.  Sil. 
Why should Dorinda go to any house  
But Silvio's? surely she shall be my Spouse  
‛ Ere it be night, either alive, or dead.  
And Silvio in life or death will wed  
Dorinda.  Lin. 
Now she may become thy Wife,  
Since Amarillis is to marriage, life,  
And virtue lost. Blessed pair! Ye Gods (that do  
Wonders) with one cure now give life to two.  Dor. 
O Silvio! I shall faint, my wounded thigh  
Feebly supporting me.  Sil. 
Good remedy  
For that! take heart: thouart mine and Linco's care,  
And I and Linco thy two crutches are.  
Linco, thy hand.  Lin. 
There 'tis.  Sil. 
Hold fast: a chair  
Let's make for her of our two arms. Rest here  
Dorinda, suffering thy right hand t' embrace  
The neck of Linco, thy left mine: Now place  
Thy body tenderly, that the hurt part  
May not be strained.  Dor. 
O cruel pricking dart!  Sil. 
Sit at more ease, my Love.  Dor. 
It is well now.  Sil. 
Dear Linco do not stagger.  Lin. 
Nor do thou  
Swag with thine arm, but steady go and wary  
It will concern thee. Ah! we do not carry  
A Boars head now in triumph.  Sil. 
Say, my Deer,  
How is it now?  Dor. 
In pain; but leaning here  
(My Heart) to be in pain, is pleased to be;  
To languish, health; to die, eternity.  

CHORUS.  
FAir golden Age! when milk was th' only food,  
And cradle of the infant-world the wood  
(Rocked by the winds); and th' untouched flocks did bear  
Their deer young for themselves! None yet did fear  
The sword or poison: no black thoughts begun  
T' eclipse the light of the eternal Sun:  
Nor wandering Pines unto a foreign shore  
Or War, or Riches, (a worse mischief) bore.  
That pompous sound, Idol of vanity,  
Made up of Title, Pride, and Flattery,  
Which they call Honour whom Ambition blinds,  
Was not as yet the Tyrant of our minds.  
But to buy real goods with honest toil  
Amongst the woods and flocks, to use no guile,  
Was honour to those sober souls that knew  
No happiness but what from virtue grew.  
Then sports and carols amongst Brooks and Plains  
Kindled a lawful flame in Nymphs and Swains.  
Their hearts and Tongues concurred, the kiss and joy  
Which were most sweet, and yet which least did cloy  
Hymen bestowed on them. To one alone  
The lively Roses of delight were blown;  
The thievish Lover found them shut on trial,  
And fenced with prickles of a sharp denial.  
Were it in Cave or Wood, or purling Spring,  
Husband and Lover signified one thing.  
Base present age, which dost with thy impure  
Delights the beauty of the soul obscure:  
Teaching to nurse a Dropsy in the veins:  
Bridling the look, but giv'st desire the reins.  
Thus, like a net that spread and covered lies  
With leaves and tempting flowers, thou dost disguise  
With coy and holy arts a wanton heart;  
" Mak'st life a Stage-play, virtue but a part:  
" Nor thinkst it any fault Love's sweets to steal,  
" So from the world thou canst the theft conceal.  
But thou that art the King of Kings, create  
In us true honour: virtue's all the state  
Great souls should keep. Unto these cells return  
Which were thy Court, but now thy absence mourn:  
From their dead sleep with thy sharp goad awake  
Them who, to follow their base wills, forsake  
Thee, and the glory of the ancient world.  
" Let's hope: our ills have truce till we are hurled  
" From that: Let's hope; the sun that's set may rise,  
" And with new light salute our longing eyes.     

Actus Quintus.  

Scena Prima.  VRANIO, CARINO. Vr. 
" ALl places are our Country where we're well:  
Which to the wise is wheresoever they dwell.  Car. 
It is most true Vranio: and no man  
By proof can say it better than I can:  
Who leaving long ago my Father's house,  
(Being very young, and then ambitious  
Of something more than holding of the plough,  
Or keeping sheep) traveled abroad: and now  
To the same point where I began, return,  
When my gilt locks are to the silver worn.  
" Yet a sweet thing (it needs must be confessed)  
" To any that hath sense, is his first nest.  
" For Nature gave to all men at their birth  
" Something of secret love unto that Earth  
" Where they were born, which never old doth grow  
" In us, but follows wheresoever we go.  
" The Loadstone which the wary Mariner  
" Doth as Director of his travels bear  
" Now to the rising Sun, now to his set,  
" Doth never lose that hidden virtue yet,  
" Which makes it to the North retort its look:  
" So he that hath his native soil forsook,  
" Though he may wander far, much compass take,  
" I, and his nest in foreign Countries make;  
" Yet that same natural love doth still retain  
" Which makes him wish his native soil again.  
O fair Arcadia! the sweetest part  
Of all the world (at least to me thou art)  
Which my feet trod on, but my thoughts adore!  
Had I been landed blindfold on thy shore,  
Yet than I should have known thee, such a flood  
Of sudden joy runs razes with my blood:  
Such a Magnetic powerful sympathy,  
And unaccustomed tenderness feel I.  
Thou then, that my companion hast been  
In travels and in sorrows, shalt be in  
At my joys too: 'tis reason thou shouldst go  
My half in happiness, as well as woe.  Vra. 
Companion of thy travels I have been,  
Not of the fruit thereof; for thou art in  
Thy native soil, where thou repose mayst find  
For thy tired body, and more tired mind:  
But I that am a stranger, and am come  
So many leagues from my poor house, and from  
My poorer and distressed Family,  
Trailing my wearied limbs along with thee,  
For my afflicted body well may find  
Repose, but not for my afflicted mind:  
Thinking what pledges do behind remain,  
And how much rugged way I must again  
Tread over ere I rest. Nor do I know  
Who else could have prevailed with me to go  
From Elis in my gray unwieldy age  
(Not knowing why) so long a pilgrimage.  Car. 
Thou know'st, my sweet Mirtillo (who was given  
As a son to me by propitious Heaven)  
Some two months since came hither to be well  
(By my advice, or of the Oracle,  
To speak more true, which said, Th' Arcadian air  
Was th' only means that could his health repair.)  
Now I, that find it an exceeding pain  
Without so dear a pledge long to remain,  
Consulting the same Oracle, enquired  
When he'd return whom I so much desired.  
The Answer was the same I tell thee now;  
Unto thy ancient Country return thou;  
Where with thy sweet Mirtillo thou shalt be  
Happy; for in that place (by Heaven) he  
Is marked out for great things: But till thou come  
Into Arcadia, touching this be dumb.  
Thou then, my faithfullest Companion,  
My loved Vranio, who hast ever gone.  
A share in all my fortune's hitherton,  
Repose thy body, and thou shalt have too  
Cause to repose thy mind: 'twixt me and thee  
(If Heaven perform what it hath promised me)  
All shall be common: no success can glad  
Carino, if he see Vranio sad.  Vr. 
My deer Carino, what I do for thee,  
Rewards itself, if it accepted be.  
But what at first could make thee to forgo  
Thy native Country, if thou lov'st it so?  Car. 
A love to Poetry, and to the loud  
Music of Fame resounding in a crowd.  
For I myself (greedy of foreign praise)  
Disdained Arcadia only should my Lays  
Hear and applaud: as if my native Soil  
Were narrow limits to my growing Style.  
I went to Elis, and to Pisa then,  
(Famous themselves, and giving fame to men)  
There saw I that loved Egon, first with Bays,  
With Purple then, with Virtue decked always:  
That he on earth Apollo's self did seem:  
Therefore my heart and Harp I unto him  
Did consecrate, devoted to his name.  
And in his house (which was the house of Fame)  
I should have set up my perpetual rest,  
There to admire and imitate the best,  
If as Heaven made me happy here below,  
So it had gi'n me too the grace to know  
And keep my happiness. How I forsook  
Elis and Pisa after, and betook  
Myself to Argos and Micene, where  
An earthly god I worshipped, with what there  
I suffered in that hard captivity,  
Would be too long for thee to hear, for me  
Too sad to utter. Only thus much know,  
I lost my labour, and in sand did sow:  
I writ, wept, sung, hot and cold fits I had,  
I rid, I stood, I bore, now sad, now glad,  
Now high, now low, now in esteem, now scorned;  
And as the Delphic iron, which is turned  
Now to Heroick, now Mechanic use,  
I feared no danger, did no pains refuse,  
Was all things, and was nothing; changed my hair,  
Condition, custom, thoughts, and life, but ne'er  
Could change my fortune. Then I knew at last  
And panted after my sweet freedom past.  
So flying smoky Argos, and the great  
Storms that attend on greatness, my retreat  
I made to Pisa (my thoughts quiet port)  
Where (praise be given to the Eternal for't)  
Upon my deer Mirtillo I did light,  
Which all past sorrows fully did requite.  Vra. 
" A thousand thousand times that man is blessed  
" Can clip the wings of his aspiring breast!  
" Nor for the shadow of great happiness  
" Doth throw away the substance of the less!  Car. 
But who'd have dreamt midst plenty to grow poor?  
Or to be less by toiling to be more?  
I thought by how much more in princes' Courts  
Men did excel in Titles and Supports,  
So much the more obliging they would be  
(The best enamel of Nobility).  
But now the contrary by proof I've seen:  
Courtiers in name, and Courteous in their mien  
They are; but in their actions I could spy  
Not the least-spark or drachm of Courtesy.  
People in show smooth as the calmed waves:  
Yet cruel as the Ocean when it raves.  
Men in appearance only I did find,  
Love in the face, but malice in the mind:  
With a straight look a squinting heart; and least  
Fidelity where greatest was professed.  
That which elsewhere is virtue, is vice there:  
Plain troth, square dealing, love unfeigned, sincere  
Compassion, faith inviolable, and  
An innocence both of the heart and hand,  
They count the folly of a soul that's vile  
And poor, a vanity worthy their smile.  
To cheat, to lie, deceit and theft to use,  
And under show of pity to abuse,  
To rise upon the ruins of their Brothers,  
And seek their own by robbing praise from others,  
The virtues are of that perfidious race.  
No worth, no valour, no respect of place,  
Of Age, or Law, bridle of modesty,  
No tie of love, or blood, nor memory  
Of good received; no thing's so venerable,  
Sacred or just, that is inviolable  
By that vast thirst of Riches, and desire  
Unquenchable of still ascending higher.  
Now I (not fearing, since I meant not ill,  
And in Court-craft not having any skill,  
Wearing my thoughts caracterd in my brow,  
And a glass-window in my breast) judge thou  
How open and how fair a mark my heart  
Lay to their envy's unsuspected dart.  Vra. 
" Who now can boast of earth's felicity,  
" When Envy treads on virtue's heels?  Car. 
O my  
Vranio, If since my Muse and I  
From Elis passed to Argos, I had found  
Such cause to sing, as I had ample ground  
To weep, perchance in such a lofty key  
I'd sung my Master's glorious Arms, that he  
Should have no cause, for the felicity  
Of his Meonian trumpet to envy  
Achilles: and my Country (which doth bring  
Such hapless Poets forth as Swanlike sing  
Their own sad fates) should by my means have now  
A second Laurel to impale her brow.  
But in this age (inhuman age the while!)  
The art of Poetry is made too vile.  
" Swans must have pleasant nests, high feeding, fair  
" Wether to sing: and with a load of care  
" Men cannot climb Parnassus' cliff: for he  
" Who is still wrangling with his Destiny  
" And his malignant fortune, becomes hoarse,  
" And loses both his singing and discourse.  
— But now 'tis time to seek Mirtillo out:  
Although I find the places hereabout  
So changed and altered from their ancient wont,  
I for Arcadia in Arcadia hunt.  
But come Vranio gladly for all this;  
A traveller with language cannot miss  
His way: Or, since thouart weary, thou wert best  
To stay at the next Inn to take some rest.   

Scena secunda.  TITIRO, Messenger. Tit. 
WHich first, my Daughter, shall I mourn in thee,  
Thy loss of Life, or of thy Chastity?  
I'll mourn thy Chastity: for thou wert born  
Of mortal parents, but not bad. I'll mourn  
Not thy life lost, but mine preserved, to see  
Thy loss of Life, and of thy Chastity.  
Thou with thy Oracles mysterious cloud  
(Wrongly conceived Montano,) and thy proud  
Despiser both of love, and of my Daughter,  
Unto this miserable end hast brought her.  
Ay me! how much more certain at this time  
My Oracles have showed themselves then thine!  
" For honesty in a young heart doth prove  
" But a weak sconce against assaulting love.  
" And 'tis most true, a woman that's alone,  
" Hath a most dangerous companion.  Mess. 
Were he not under ground, or flown through th'air,  
I should have found him sure. But soft, he's there  
(I think) where lest I thought. thouart met by me  
Too late, old Father, but too soon for thee:  
I've news.  Tit. 
What bringst thou in thy mouth? the knife  
That hath bereft my Daughter of her life?  Mess. 
Not that; yet little less. But how I pray  
Got'st thou this news so soon another way?  Tit. 
Doth she then live?  Mess. 
She lives, and in her choice  
It is to Live or Die.  Tit. 
Blessed be that voice!  
Why is she than not safe, if she may give  
Her no to death?  Mess. 
Because she will not live.  Tit. 
Will not? what madness makes her life despise?  Mess. 
Another's death. And (if that thy advice  
Remove her not) she is thereon so bent▪  
That all the world cannot her death prevent.  Tit. 
Why stand we talking here then? Let us go.  Mess. 
Stay: yet the Temple's shut. Dost thou not know  
That none but holy feet on holy earth  
May tread, till from the vestry they bring forth  
The destined Sacrifice in all it's trim?  Tit. 
But before that—  Mess. 
She's watched.  Tit. 
I'th' interim  
Relate then all that's past, and to me show  
The truth unveiled.  Mess. 
Thy wretched Daughter (Oh  
Sad spectacle!) being brought before the Priest,  
Did not alone from the beholders wrest  
Salt tears; but (trust me) made the marble melt,  
And the hard flint the dint of pity felt.  
She was accused, convict, and sentence past  
All in a trice.  Tit. 
(Poor girl!) and why such haste?  Mess. 
Because the evidence was clear as day:  
Besides, a certain Nymph (who she did say  
Could witness she was guiltless) was not there,  
Nor could by any search be brought t' appear.  
Then the dire Omens of some threatened ill  
And horrid visions which the Temple fill  
Brook no delay, to us more frightful far,  
By how much more unusual they are,  
Nor ever seen, since the vexed Powers above  
Revenged the wrong of scorned Aminta's Love.  
(Who was their Priest whence all our woes had birth)  
The Goddess sweats cold drops of blood, the Earth  
Is Palsey-shook; the sacred Cavern howls  
With such unwonted sounds as tortured souls  
Send out of graves, and belches up a smell  
From its fowl jaws, scarce to be matched in hell.  
His sad Procession now the Priest began  
To lead t' a bloody death thy Daughter, when  
Mirtillo seeing her, (behold a strange  
Proof of Affection!) proffered to exchange  
His life for hers; crying aloud, Her hands  
Untie (Ah how unworthy of such bands!)  
And in her stead (who is designed to be  
A Sacrifice to Diana) offer me  
A sacrifice to Amarillis.  Tit. 
There  
Spoke a true Lover, and above base fear!  Mess. 
The wonder follows: she that was afraid  
Before of dying, on the sudden made  
Now valiant by Mirtillo's words, replied,  
Thus, with a heart at death unterrified,  
But dost thou think (Mirtillo) then to give  
Life by thy death to her, who in thee doth live?  
It cannot, must not be: Come Priests, away  
With me to th' Altar now without delay.  
Ah! (cried the Swain) such love I did not lack:  
Back cruel Amarillis, O come back:  
Now thou art more unkind than e'er thou wert:  
'Tis I should die. Quoth she, thou act'st my part.  
And here between them grew so fierce a strife,  
As if that life were death, and death were life.  
O noble souls! O Pair eternally  
To be renowned, whether ye live or die!  
O glorious Lovers! if I had tongues more  
Than Heaven hath eyes, or sands are on the shore,  
Their voices would be drowned in the main-  
Sea of your endless Praises, Glorious Dame,  
Daughter of jove (eternal as thy Father)  
That Mortals deeds immortallizest, gather  
Thou the fair story, and in diamond pages  
With golden letters write to after ages  
The bravery of both Lovers.  Tit. 
But who won  
The conquest in that strife of death?  Mess. 
The Man.  
Strange war! which to the victor death did give,  
And where the vanquished was condemned to live.  
For thus unto thy daughter spoke the Priest;  
Nymph, let's alone, and set thy heart at rest;  
Changed for another none can be again,  
Who for another in exchange was ta'en.  
This is our Law. Then a strict charge he gave,  
Upon the Maid such careful watch to have,  
As that she might not lay a violent hand  
Upon herself through sorrow. Thus did stand  
The state of matters, when in search of thee  
Montano sent me.  Tit. 
'Tis most true I see,  
" Well-watered Meads may be without sweet flowers  
" In Spring; without their verdant honour Bowers;  
" And without chirping birds a pleasant Grove;  
" ' Ere a fair maid and young without her Love.  
But if we loiter here, how shall we know  
The hour when to the Temple we should go?  Mess. 
Here better than elsewhere: For here it is  
The honest Swain must be a sacrifice.  Tit. 
And why not in the Temple?  Mess. 
Because in  
The place 'twas done our law doth punish sin.  Tit. 
Then why not in the cave? The sin was there.  Mess. 
Because it must be in the open air.  Tit. 
By whom hast thou these mysteries been told?  Mess. 
By the chief Minister, and he by old  
Tirenio; who the false Lucrina knew  
So sacrificed, and Aminta true.  
But now 'tis time to go indeed; for see,  
The sacred pomp descends the hill! yet we  
May for thy daughter to the Temple go  
Before they come:" Devotion marches slow.   

Scena tertia.  Chorus of Shepherds, Chorus of Priests, MONTANO, MIRTILLO. Cho. Sh. 
SOl's sister, Daughter of great jupiter,  
That shinest a second Sun in the first Sphere  
To the blind world!  Ch. Pr. 
Thou whose life-giving, and more temperate Ray  
Thy Brother's burning fury doth allay;  
Whence bounteous Nature here produces after  
All her blessed offsprings, and Air, Earth, and Water  
Enriches and augments with Vegetals,  
With Creatures sensitive, with Rationals.  
Ah, pity thy Arcadia, and that rage  
Thou dost in others, in thyself assuage!  Ch. Sh. 
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great jupiter,  
That shinest a second Sun in the first Sphere  
To the blind world!  Mont. 
Now sacred Ministers the Altars dress:  
You likewise Swains, that show yourselves no less  
Devout than they, your voices all unite,  
And once again invoke the Queen of Night.  Ch. Sh. 
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great jupiter,  
That shinest a second Sun in the first Sphere  
To the blind world!  Mont. 
Now shepherds and my servants all,  
Withdraw yourselves, and come not till I call.  
Valiant young man (who to bestow upon  
Another, life, abandonest thine own)  
Die with this comfort: For a puff of breath  
(Which by the abject spirit is called death)  
Thou buyest Eternity: and when the tooth  
Of envious Time (consuming the world's youth)  
Millions of lesser names devoured hath,  
Then thou shalt live the pattern of true faith.  
But for the Law commands that thou shouldst die  
A silent Sacrifice, before thou ply  
Thy knee to earth, if thou wouldst aught deliver,  
Speak; and hereafter hold thy peace for ever.  Mir. 
Father, (for though thou kill me, yet I must  
Give thee that name) My body to the dust,  
Whereof'twas made and kneaded up, I give;  
My Soul to her in whom alone I live.  
But if she die, (as she hath vowed) of me  
What part (alas!) will then surviving be?  
How sweet will death be unto me, if I  
In mine own person, not in hers, may die!  
And if he merit pity at his death  
Who for mere pity now resigns his breath,  
Take care (dear Father) of her life, that I  
Winged with that hope, t'a better life may fly.  
Let my Fate rest at my destruction,  
Stop at my ruin; but when I am gone,  
Let my divorced soul in her survive,  
Although from her I was divorced alive.  Mont. 
(Scarcely can I refrain from weeping now:  
O our mortality how frail art thou!)  
Son be of comfort, for I promise thee  
I will perform all thou desir'st of me:  
Here's my hand on't, and solemnly I swear,  
Even by this Mitred head.  Mir. 
Then vanish fear.  
And now for the most faithful soul make room,  
For (Amarillis) unto thee I come.  
With the sweet name of Amarillis I  
Close up my mouth, and silent kneel to die.  Mont. 
Now sacred Ministers, the Rites begin;  
With liquid odoriferous Gums keep in  
The flame, and strowing frank incense and myrrh,  
Whole clouds of perfume to the Gods prefer.  Cho. Sh. 
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great jupiter,  
That shinest a second Sun in the first Sphere  
To the blind world!   

Scena quarta.  CARINO, MONTANO, NICANDRO, MIRTILLO, Chorus of Shepherds. Car. 
DId ever man so many houses view,  
And the inhabitants thereof so few?  
But see the cause! If I mistake me not,  
They're gotten all together here: O what  
A troop! how rich! how solemn! It is sure  
Some Sacrifice.  Mont. 
Give me the golden Ewer  
With the red wine, Nicandro.  Nic. 
There.  Mont. 
So may  
Soft pity in thy breast revive to day  
By this unguilty blood (Goddess divine)  
As by the sprinkling of these drops of wine  
This pale and dying flame revives. Set up  
The golden Ewer. Reach me the silver cup.  
So may the burning wrath he quenched, which in  
Thy breast was kindled by a false Maid's sin,  
As with this water (poured out like our tears)  
I quench this flame.  Car. 
'T's a Sacrifice: but where's  
The offering?  Mont. 
Now all's prepared, there lacks  
Only the fatal stroke. Lend me the Axe.  Car. 
I see a thing (unless my eyes mistake)  
Like a man kneeling this way with his back.  
Is he the offering? 'Tis so: Ah wretch!  
And o'er his head the Priest his hand doth stretch.  
O my poor Country! after all these years  
Is not heavens' wrath yet quenched with blood and tears?  Ch. Sh. 
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great jupiter,  
That shinest a second Sun in the first Sphere  
To the blind world!  Mont. 
Revengeful Goddess, who a private fault  
With public rod dost punish: (Thou hast thought  
Fit so to do, and so in the Abyss  
Of Providence eternal fixed it is)  
Since faithless Lucrin's tainted blood was thought  
For thy nice justice too impure a draught:  
Carouse the guiltless blood then of this Swain,  
By me now at thy Altar to be slain  
A willing Sacrifice, and to his Lass  
As true a Lover as Aminta was.  Ch. Sh. 
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great jupiter,  
That shinest a second Sun in the first Sphere  
To the blind world!  Mont. 
Ah, how my breast with pity now relents!  
What sudden numbness fetters every sense!  
I ne'er was so before; To lift this Axe  
My hands lack strength, and my heart courage lacks.  Car. 
I'll see the wretch's face, and so be gone:  
For such dire sights I cannot look upon.  Mont. 
Perhaps the Sun, though setting will not look  
On humane Sacrifice, and I am struck  
Therefore with horror. Shepherd, change thy place,  
And to the Mountain turn thy dying face.  
So, now 'tis well.  (Car. 
Alas, what gaze I at?  
Is 't not my Son? Is 't not Mirtillo, that?)  Mon. 
Now I can do't.  (Car. 
'Tis he.)  Mon. 
And aim my blow—  Car. 
Hold sacred Minister, what dost thou do?  Mont. 
Nay thou, profane rash man, how dar'st thou thus  
Impose a sacrilegious hand on us?  Car. 
O all my joy Mirtillo! I ne'er thought—  Mon. 
(Avaunt old man, that dotest, or art distraught,)  Car. 
T'embrace thee in this sort.  Mont. 
Avaunt, I say  
It is not lawful impure hands to lay  
Upon things sacred to the gods.  Car. 
'Twas they  
That sent me to this place.  Mont. 
Nicandro, stay,  
We'll hear him, and then let him go his way.  Car. 
Ah, courteous Minister! before thy hand  
Upon the life of this young man descend,  
Tell me but why he dies. This I implore  
By that Divinity thou dost adore.  Mon. 
By such a Goddess thou conjur'st me, that  
I should be impious to deny. But what  
Concerns it thee?  Car. 
More than thou dost suppose.  Mon. 
Because to die he for another chose.  Car. 
Then I will die for him: O, take in stead  
Of his, this old already tottering head.  Mon. 
Thou ravest friend.  Car. 
Why am I denied that now  
Which unto him was granted?  Mon. 
Because thou  
A stranger art.  Car. 
And if I should prove none,  
What then?  Mon. 
Although thou shouldst, it were all one;  
Because he cannot be exchanged again  
Who for another in exchange was ta'en.  
But who art thou, if thou no stranger be?  
Thy habit speaks thee not of Arcady.  Car. 
Yet am I an Arcadian.  Mont. 
I did ne'er  
See thee before (to my remembrance) here.  Car. 
My name's Carino; I was born hard by:  
(This wretche's Father who is now to die)  Mont. 
Hence, hence, lest through thy fond paternal love  
Our Sacrifice should vain and fruitless prove.  Car. 
O if thou wert a Father!  Mont. 
I am one:  
ay, and the Father of an only Son.  
A tender Father too; yet if this were  
My Silvio's head (by Silvio's head I swear)  
I would as forward be to do to his  
What I must do to this." For no man is  
" Worthy this sacred Robe, but he that can  
" For public good put off the private man.  Car. 
Yet let me kiss him ere he die.  Mon. 
Nor touch.  Car. 
O mine own flesh and blood! art thou so much  
A tyrant to me too, as to afford  
To thy afflicted Parent not one word?  Mir. 
Dear Father, Peace.  (Mon. 
Alas! we are all spoilt:  
The sacrifice (O Heavens!) is defiled.)  Mir. 
That blood, that life which thou didst give to me,  
Spent for a better cause can never be.  Mont. 
Did I not say his vow of silence he  
Would break, when he his Father's tears should see?  Mirt. 
That such a gross mistake I should commit!  
My vow of silence I did quite forgit.  Mon. 
But Ministers, why do ye gazing stay?  
Him to the Temple quickly reconvay.  
There in the holy Cloister again take  
The voluntary Oath of him: then back  
Returning him with pomp along with you  
For a new Sacrifice bring all things new,  
New fire, and new water, and new wine.  
Quickly: for Phoebus doth apace decline.   

Scena quinta.  MONTANO, CARINO, DAMETA. Mon. 
NOw thou old doting fool: thank Heaven thou art  
His Father; for (by Heaven) unless thou wert,  
To day I'd make thee feel my fury, since  
Thou hast so much abused my Patience.  
Know'st thou who I am? Know'st thou that this wand  
Doth both Divine and Humane things command?  Car. 
" Let not the Priest of Heaven offended be  
" For begging mercy.  Mont. 
I have suffered thee  
Too long, and that hath made thee insolent.  
Dost thou not know," when anger wanteth vent  
" In a just bosom, it is gathering strength  
" Within and bursts out with more force at length?  Car. 
" Anger was never in a noble mind  
" A furious tempest: but a gentle wind  
" Of Passion only, which but stirs the soul,  
" (Where Reason still doth keep her due control)  
Lest it should grow a standing pool, unfit  
For virtuous action. If I cannot get  
Thee to extend that mercy which I crave,  
Afford me justice; this I ought to have  
From thee." For they who laws to others give,  
" Ought not themselves without all law to live.  
" And he that is advanced to greater sway,  
" Him that requireth Justice must obey.  
and (Witness) I require it now of thee;  
●o't for thyself, if thou wilt not for me.  
Thou art unjust if thou Mirtillo slay.  Mont. 
I prithee how?  Car. 
To me didst thou not say,  
Thou mightst not offer here a stranger's blood?  Mon. 
I did: and said what Heaven commanded.  Car. 
Good:  
This is a stranger then.  Mon. 
A stranger? what?  
●he not then thy Son?  Car. 
All's one for that.  Mon. 
Is't that thou got'st him in a foreign land?  Car. 
The more thou seek'st, the less thou'lt understand.  Mon. 
It skill not here, where, but by whom he's got.  Car. 
I call him stranger, cause I got him not.  Mon. 
Is he thy Son then, and not got by thee?  Car. 
I said he was my Son; not born of me.  Mon. 
Thy grief hath made thee mad.  Car. 
I would it had!  
● should not feel my grief, if I were mad.  Mon. 
Thou art or mad, or impious, choose thou whether.  Car. 
For telling the truth to thee I am neither.  Mon. 
How can both these (son and not son) be true?  Car. 
Son of my Love, not of my Loins.  Mon. 
Go to;  
He is no stranger, if he be thy Son:  
If he be not, to thee no harm is done.  
So Father, or not Father, th' art confuted.  Car. 
" Truth is truth still: though it be ill disputed.  Mont. 
" That man that utters contradictions must  
" Speak one untruth.  Car. 
Thy action is unjust,  
I say again.  Mont. 
Let all this action's guilt  
Light on my head, and on my Son's.  Car. 
Thou wilt  
Repent it.  Mont. 
Thou shalt, if thou wilt not take  
Thy hands from off me.  Car. 
My appeal I make  
To men and Gods.  Mon. 
To God, despised by thee?  Car. 
And if thou wilt not hear, harken to me  
O Heaven and Earth! and thou great Goddess here  
Adored! Mirtillo is a Foreigner,  
No Son of mine: the holy Sacrifice  
Thou dost profane.  Mon. 
Bless me good heavens' from this  
Strange man! Say then, if he be not thy Son,  
Who is his Father?  Car. 
'Tis to me unknown.  Mo. 
Is he thy kinsman?  C. 
Neither.  M. 
Why dost thou then  
Call him thy Son?  Car. 
'Cause from the instant when  
I had him first, I bred him as mine own  
Still with a fatherly affection.  Ca 
From  Mo. 
Didst buy him? steal him? from whence hadst him?  
Elis (the gift of a strange man).  Mon. 
From whom  
Had that strange man him?  Ca 
That strange man? why he  
Had him of me before.  Mon. 
Thou movest in me  
At the same time both laughter and disdain:  
What thou gav'st him, did he give thee again?  Car. 
I gave to him what was his own; then he  
Returned it as his courteous gift to me.  Mo. 
And whence hadst thou (since thou wilt make me mad  
For company) that which from thee he had?  Car. 
Within a thicket of sweet Myrtle, I  
Had newly found him accidentally,  
Near to Alfeo's mouth, and called him thence  
Mirtillo.  Mon. 
With what likely circumstance  
Thou dost thy lie embroider? Are there any  
Wild beasts within that Forest?  Car. 
Very many.  Mon. 
Why did not they devour him?  Car. 
A strong flood  
Had carried him into that tuft of wood,  
And left him in the lap of a small Isle  
Defended round with water.  Mon. 
Thou dost file  
One Lie upon another well. And was  
The flood so pitiful to let him pass  
Undrowned? Such nurses in thy Country are  
The Brooks, to foster infants with such care?  Car. 
He lay within a cradle, which with mud  
And other matter gathered by the flood  
Calked (to keep out the water) like a Boat  
Had to that thicket carried him afloat.  Mon. 
Within a cradle lay he?  Car. 
Yes.  Mon. 
A child  
In swathing bands?  Car. 
A sweet one; and it smiled.  Mon. 
How long ago might this be?  Car. 
'Tis soon cast:  
Since the great Flood some twenty years are past,  
And then it was.  Mon. 
What horror do I feel  
Creep thorough my veins!  Car. 
He's silenced, and yet will  
Be obstinate." O the strange pride of those  
" In place! who conquered, yield not: but suppose,  
" Because that they have all the wealth, with it  
" They must be Masters too of all the wit.  
Sure he's convinced; and it doth vex him too,  
As by his muttering he doth plainly show:  
And one may see some colour he would find  
To hide the error of a haughty mind.  Mon. 
But that strange man of whom thou tell'st me, what  
Was he unto the child? his father?  Car. 
That  
I do not know.  Mon. 
Nor didst thou ever know  
More of the man than thou hast told me?  Car. 
No.  
Why all these Questions?  Mon. 
If thou sawst him now,  
Shouldst know him?  Car. 
Yes; he had a beetle-brow,  
A down-look, middle-stature, with black hair,  
His beard and eyebrows did with bristles stare.  Mo. 
Shepherds & servants mine, approach.  Da. 
W''re here.  Mon. 
Which of these shepherds who do now appear,  
To him thou talk'st of likest seems to thee?  Car. 
Not only like him, but the same is he  
Whom thou talk'st with: and still the man doth show  
The same he did some twenty years ago,  
For he hath changed no hair, though I am gray.  Mon. 
Withdraw, and let Dameta only stay.  
Tell me, dost thou know him?  Dam. 
I think I do:  
But where, or how I know not.  Car. 
I'll renew  
Thy memory by tokens.  Mon. 
Let me talk  
First with him if thou please, and do thou walk  
Aside a while.  Car. 
Most willingly what thou  
Command'st I'll do.  Mon. 
Tell me Dameta now,  
And do not lie.  (Dam. 
O Gods, what storm comes here!)  Mon. 
When thou cam'st back ('tis since some twenty year)  
From seeking of my child, which the swollen Brook  
Away together with its cradle took,  
Didst thou not tell me thou hadst sought with pain  
All that Alpheo baths, and all in vain?  Dam. 
Why dost thou ask it me?  Mon. 
Answer me this:  
Didst thou not say thou couldst not find him?  Dam. 
Yes.  Mon. 
What was that little infant then which thou  
In Elis gav'st to him that knows thee now?  Dam. 
'Twas twenty years ago; and wouldst thou have  
An old man now remember what he gave?  Mon. 
He is old too, and yet remembers it.  Dam. 
Rather is come into his doting fit.  Mon. 
That we shall quickly see: Where art thou stranger?  Ca 
Here.  Da. 
Would thou wert interred, & I from danger!  Mon. 
Is this the Shepherd that bestowed on thee  
The present, art thou sure?  Car. 
I'm sure 'tis he.  Da. 
What present?  Car. 
Dost thou not remember when  
In jove Olympics Fane, thou having then  
Newly received the Oracle's reply,  
And being just on thy departure, I  
Encountered thee, and asking then of thee  
The signs of what thou'dst lost, thou toldst them me;  
Then I did take thee to my house, and there  
Showed thee thy child laid in a cradle; where  
Thou gav'st him me.  Dam. 
What is inferred from hence?  Car. 
The child thou gav'st me then, and whom I since  
Have brought up, as a tender Father doth  
An only Son, is this unhappy youth  
Who on this Altar now is doomed to die  
A Sacrifice:  Dam. 
O force of Destiny!  Mon. 
Art studying for more lies? Hath this man said  
The truth or not?  Dam. 
Would I were but as dead  
As all is true!  Mon. 
That thou shalt quickly be  
If the whole truth thou dost not tell to me.  
Why didst thou give unto another what  
Was not thine own?  Dam. 
Dear Master, ask not that;  
For heaven's sake do not: too much thou dost know  
Already.  Mon. 
This makes me more eager grow.  
Wilt not speak yet? Still keep'st thou me in pain?  
thouart dead if I demand it once again.  Dam. 
Because the Oracle foretold me there,  
That if the child than found returned e'er  
To his own home, he should be like to die  
By's Father's hand.  Car. 
'Tis true, myself was by.  Mon. 
Ay me! now all is clear: This act of mine  
The Dream and Oracle did well Divine.  Car. 
What wouldst thou more? can ought behind remain?  
Is it not plain enough?  Mon. 
'Tis but too plain.  
I know, and thou hast said too much; I would  
I had searched less, or thou less understood.  
How (O) Carino, have I ta'en from thee  
At once thy Son, and thy Calamity!  
How are thy passions become mine! this is  
My Son: O too unhappy Son, of this  
Unhappy man! O Son preserved and kept  
More cruelly, than thou from hence wert swept  
By the wild flood, to fall by thy Sires hand,  
And stain the Altars of thy native Land!  Car. 
Thou Father to Mirtillo? Wondrous! How  
Didst lose him?  Mon. 
By that horrid flood which thou  
Hast mentioned. O dear pledge! thou wert safe then  
When thou wert lost: And now I lose thee, when  
I find thee.  Car. 
O eternal Providence!  
For what deep end have all these Accidents  
Lain hid so long, and now break forth together?  
Some mighty thing thou hast conceived, either  
For good or evil: some unwonted birth  
Thou art big with, which must be brought on earth.  Mon. 
This was the thing my Dream foretold me; too  
Prophetic in the bad, but most untrue  
In the good part: This 'twas which made me melt  
So strangely; this, that horror which I felt  
Creep through my bones, when I heaved up my hand.  
For Nature's self seemed to recoil, or stand  
Astonished, to see a Father go  
To give that horrid and forbidden blow.  Car. 
Thou art resolved then not to go on  
With this dire Sacrifice?  Mon. 
No other man  
May do it here.  Car. 
Shall the Son then be slain  
By his own Sire?  Mon. 
'Tis law: and who dare strain  
His charity to save another man,  
When true Aminta with himself began?  Car. 
O my sad Fate! what am I brought to see?  Mon. 
Two Father's overacted Piety  
Murder their son; Thine to Mirtillo; mine  
To Heaven. Thou by denying he was thine,  
Thought'st to preserve him, and hast lost him; I  
(Searching with too much curiosity)  
Whilst I was to have sacrificed thy son  
(As I supposed) find and must slay my own.  Car. 
Behold the horrid Monster Fate hath teemed!  
O Cruel! O Mirtillo! more esteemed  
By me then life: Was this it which to me  
The Oracle foretold concerning thee?  
Thus dost thou make me in my Country blessed?  
O my dear Son, whilom the hope and rest,  
But now the grief and bane of these gray hairs!  Mon. 
Prithee Carino lend to me those tears:  
I weep for mine own blood. (Ah! why, if I  
Must spill it, is it mine?) Poor son! but why  
Did I beget thee?— (Why was I got rather?)  
The pitying deluge saved thee, and thy Father  
Will cruelly destroy thee. Holy Powers  
Immortal (without some command of yours  
Not the least wave stirs in the Sea, breath in  
The Air, nor leaf on Earth) what monstrous sin  
Hath been by me committed 'gainst your Law,  
This heavy Judgement on my head to draw?  
Or if I have transgressed so much; wherein  
Sinned my Son so, ye will not pardon him?  
And thou with one blast of thy Anger kill  
Me, thundering jove? But if thy bolts lie still,  
My blade shall not: I will repeat the sad  
Example of Aminta, and the Lad  
Shall see his Father through his own heart run  
His reeking blade, rather than kill his Son.  
die then Montano; Age should lead the way:  
And willingly I do't: Powers (shall I say  
Of Heaven or Hell?) that do with anguish drive  
Men to despair; Behold, I do conceive  
(Since you will have it so) your fury! I  
Desire no greater blessing than to die.  
A kind of dire love to my natural Goal  
Doth lash me on, and hauling to my soul,  
To death, To death.  Car. 
'Las poor old man! in troth  
I pity thee: for though we need it both,  
Yet as by day the Stars forbear to shine,  
My grief is nothing, if compared with thine.   

Scena sexta.  TIRENIO, MONTANO, CARINO. Tir. 
MAke haste my Son; yet tread secure, that I  
May without stumbling trace thee through this wry  
And craggy way, with my old feet and blind.  
Thou art their eyes, as I am to thy mind.  
And when thou comest where the Priest is, there  
Arrest thy pace.  Mont. 
Ha! whom do I see here?  
Is't not our Reverend Tirenio? he  
Whose eyes are seeled up earthward, but heaven see?  
Some great thing draws him from his sacred Cell,  
Whence to behold him is a miracle.  Car. 
May the good Gods pleased in their bounty be  
To make his coming prosperous to thee.  Mont. 
Father Tirenio, what miracle  
Is this? What mak'st thou from thy holy Cell?  
Whom dost thou seek? what news?  Tir. 
I come to speak  
With thee: and news I bring, and news I seek.  Mont. 
But why comes not the holy Order back  
With the purged offering, and what doth lack  
Besides to th' interrupted Sacrifice?  Tir. 
" O how much often doth the want of eyes  
" Add to the inward sight! for then the soul  
" ●●●●-gadding forth, but recollected whole  
" Into itself, is wont to recompense  
" With the mind's eyes the blindness of the sense!  
" It is not good to pass so slightly over  
" Some great events unlooked for which discover  
" In humane businesses an hand Divine,  
" Which through a cloud of seeming chance doth shine.  
" For Heaven with Earth will not familiar be,  
" Nor face to face talk with Mortality.  
" But those great wondrous things which us amaze,  
" And on blind chance the more blind vulgar lays,  
" Are but heavens' voice: the deathless Gods affect  
" To speak to mortals in that Dialect.  
" It is their language; mute unto our ears,  
" But loud to him whose understanding hears.  
(A thousand times most happy is that wight  
That hath an understanding pitched so right).  
The good Nicandro (as thou gav'st command)  
Was ready now to bring the sacred Band,  
Whom I withheld by reason of a change  
That fell out in the Temple. Which so strange  
Event, comparing with what happened here  
At the same time to thee, 'twixt hope and fear  
I know not how, struck and amazed I stand:  
Whereof by how much less I understand  
The cause, so much the more I hope and fear  
Some happiness, or some great danger near.  Mon. 
That which thou understandest not, I do  
Too well, and to my sorrow feel it too.  
But is there aught in hidden Fate can shun  
Thy all divining Spirit?  Tir. 
O my Son!  
" If the Divine use of prophetic light  
" Were arbitrary, it would then be height  
" The gift of Nature, not of Heaven. I find  
('tis true) within my undigested mind  
That there is something hidden in the deep  
Bosom of Fate, which she from me doth keep,  
And this hath moved me to come now to thee  
To be informed more clearly who is he  
That's found to be the Father of the youth  
To die now; if Nicandro told us truth.  Mon. 
Thou know'st him but too well, Tirenio:  
How wilt thou wish anon that thou didst know  
Or love him less?  Tir. 
" I praise thee O my Son,  
" For taking pity and compassion  
" On the afflicted: 'tis humanity.  
Howe'er let me speak with him.  Mon. 
Now I see  
Heaven hath suspended in thee all that skill  
In Prophecy, which it was wont t' instill.  
That Father whom thou seek'st to speak withal,  
Am I.  Tir. 
Art thou his Father, that should fall  
To Diana now an Immolation?  Mon. 
The wretched Father of that wretched Son.  Tir. 
Of that same Faithful Shepherd, who to give  
Life to another, would himself not live?  Mon. 
Of him who dies his Murderess life to save,  
And Murders me, who unto him life gave.  Tir. 
But is this true?  Mo. 
Behold the witness.  Car. 
That  
Which he hath told thee is most true.  Tir. 
And what  
Art thou that speak'st?  Car. 
Carino, thought to be  
Till now the young man's Father.  Tir. 
Was that he  
The Flood took from thee long ago?  Mon. 
Yes, yes,  
Tirenio.  Tir. 
And dost thou style for this  
Thyself a wretched Father?" O how blind  
" Is an unhallowed and terrestrial mind!  
" In what thick mists of error, how profound  
" A night of Ignorance are our souls drowned,  
" Till thou enlighten them, from whom the Sun  
" Receives his lustre, as from him the Moon!  
Vain men, how can you boast of knowledge so?  
" That part of us by which we see and know,  
" Is not our virtue, but derived from Heaven,  
" That gives it, and can take what it hath given.  
O in thy mind, Montano, blinder far,  
Then I am in mine eyes! What Juggler,  
What dazzling Devil will not let thee see  
That if this noble youth was born of thee,  
Thou art the happiest Father and most dear  
To the immortal Deities, that e'er  
Begot Son in the world? Behold the deep  
Secret, which Fate did from my knowledge keep▪  
Behold the happy day, with such a flood  
Expected of our tears, and of our blood!  
Behold the bessed end of all our pain!  
Where art thou man? come to thyself again.  
How is it that thou only dost forget  
That famous happy Oracle that's writ  
In all Arcadian hearts? How can it be  
That with thy dear son's lightning upon thee  
This day, thy sense is not prepared and clear  
The thunder of that heavenly voice to hear;  
Your Woe shall end when two of Race Divine  
Love shall Combine:—  
(Tears of delight in such abundance flow  
Out of my heart, I cannot speak.) Your Woe—  
Your Woe shall end when two of Race Divine  
Love shall Combine:  
And for a faithless Nymph's apostate state  
A Faithful Shepherd supererogate.  
Now tell me thou: This Shepherd here of whom  
We speak, and that should die, is he not come  
Of Divine Race (Montano) if he's thine?  
And Amarillis too of Race Divine?  
Then who I pray but Love hath them combined?  
Silvio by parents and by force was joined  
To Amarillis, and is yet as far  
From loving her, as Love and Hatred are.  
Then scan the rest, and 't will be evident,  
The fatal voice none but Mirtillo meant.  
For who indeed, since slain Aminta, hath  
Expressed such Love as he? such constant Faith?  
Who but Mirtillo for his Mistress would  
Since true Aminta, spend his dearest blood?  
This is that work of Supererogation:  
This is that faithful Shepherd's expiation  
For the Apostate false Lucrina's fact.  
By this admired and most stupendious Act  
More than with humane blood the wrath of heaven  
Is pacifi'ed, and satisfaction given  
Unto eternal Justice for th' offence  
Committed 'gainst it by a woman. Hence  
It was, that he no sooner came to pay  
Devotions in the Temple, but straightway  
All monstrous omens ceased; No longer stood  
Th' eternal Image in a sweat of blood,  
The earth no longer shook, the holy Cave  
No longer stank, and shrieks no longer gave;  
But such sweet harmony and redolence  
As Heaven affords (if Heaven affect the sense).  
O Providence eternal! O ye Powers  
That look upon us from yond azure Towers!  
If all my words were souls, and every soul  
Were sacrificed upon your Altars whole,  
It were too poor a Hecatomb to pay  
So great a blessing with: but as I may  
(Behold!) I tender thanks, and with my knee  
Touching the earth in all humility  
Look up on you that sit in throned in heaven.  
How much am I your debtor, that have given  
Me leave to live till now! I have run o'er  
Of my life's race a hundred years and more,  
Yet never lived till now, could never deem  
My life worth keeping till this instant time.  
Now I begin my life, am born to day.  
But why in words do I consume away  
That time that should be spent in works? Help Son  
To lift me up: Thou art the motion  
Of my decayed limbs.  Mon. 
Tirenio,  
I have a lightness in my bosom so  
Locked in, and petrified with wonder, that  
I find I'm glad, yet scarcely know at what.  
My greedy soul unto herself alone  
Keeps all her joy, and lets my sense have none.  
O miracle of Heaven! far, far beyond  
All we have seen, or e'er did understand!  
O unexampled Bounty! O the great  
Great mercy of the Gods! O fortunate  
Arcadia! O earth, of all that e'er  
The Sun beheld or warmed, most blessed, most dear  
To Heaven! Thy weal's so dear to me, mine own  
I cannot feel, nor think upon my Son  
(Twice lost and found) nor of myself buoyed up  
Out of the depth of sorrow, to the top  
Of bliss, when I consider thee: but all  
My private joy, set by the general,  
Is like a little drop in a great stream  
Shuffled and lost. O happy dream! (no dream,  
But a Celestial vision.) Now again  
Shall my Arcadia (as thou saidst) be in  
A flourishing Estate: But why dost thou  
Stay here, Montano? Heaven expects not now  
More humane Sacrifice from us. No more  
Th' are times of wrath and vengeance (as before)  
But times of grace and love; glad nuptial bands,  
Not horrid Sacrifices at our hands  
Our Goddess now requires.  Tir. 
How long to night?  Mon. 
An hour, or little more.  Tir. 
We burn daylight:  
Back to the holy Temple let us go;  
There let the daughter of old Titiro  
And thy Son interchange their Marriage vow  
To become Man and Wife, of Lovers now.  
Then let him bring her to his Father's straight,  
Where 'tis heavens' pleasure, that these fortunate  
Descendants of two Gods, should henceforth run  
United in one stream.— Lead me back, Son:  
And thou Montano, follow me.  Mon. 
But stay:  
That faith which formerly she gave away  
To Silvio, she cannot now withdraw  
And give Mirtillo, without breach of Law.  Car, 
'Tis Silvio still, Mirtillo was called so  
At first (thy man told me) and Silvio  
By me changed to Mirtillo, to which he  
Consented.  Mon. 
True: (now I remember me)  
And the same name I gave unto the other,  
To keep alive the memory of's Brother.  Tir. 
'Twas an important doubt. Follow me now.  Mon. 
Carino, to the temple too come thou.  
Henceforth Mirtillo shall two Fathers own:  
Thou hast a Brother found, and I a Son.  Car. 
To thee a Brother in his love, a Father  
To him, a Servant (in respect) to either  
Carino will be always: And since I  
Find thee to me so full of courtesy,  
I will the boldness take to recommend  
Unto thy love my second self, my friend.  Mon. 
Share me between you.  Car. 
O eternal Gods,  
" Between our prayers slow-winding paths, what odds  
" There is (by which we climb to Heaven) and those  
" Director lines by which to us Heaven bows!   

Scena septima.  CORISCA, LINCO. Cor. 
SO it seems, Linco, that coy Silvio  
When lest expected, did a Lover grow.  
But what became of her?  Lin. 
We carried her  
To Silvio's dwelling, where with many a tear  
(Whether of joy or grief, I cannot tell)  
His Mother welcomed her. It pleased her well  
To see her Son now married, and a Lover;  
But for the Nymph great grief she did discover.  
Poor Mother-in-law! ill sped, though doubly sped:  
One Daughter-in-law being hurt, the other dead.  Cor. 
Is Amarillis dead?  Lin. 
'Tis rumoured so:  
That's now the cause I to the temple go,  
To comfort old Montano with this news,  
One Daughter-in-law he gains, if one he lose.  Cor. 
Is not Dorinda dead then?  Lin. 
Dead? would thou  
Wert half so live and jocund as she's now!  Cor. 
Was't not a mortal wound?  Li. 
Had she been slain,  
With Silvio's pity she had lived again.  Cor. 
What Art so soon could cure her?  Lin. 
I will tell  
Thee all the cure. Listen t' a miracle.  
With trembling hearts, and hands prepared to aid,  
Women and men stood round the wounded Maid;  
But she would suffer none to touch her save  
Her Silvio; for the same hand which gave,  
She said, should cure the wound. So all withdrew  
Except myself, he, and his Mother: two  
T' advice, the third to act. Then Silvio  
Removing first from her blood-dapled snow  
Gently the cleaving garments, strove to pluck  
The arrow out, which in her deep wound stuck.  
But the false wood (forth coming) gave the slip  
To th' iron head, and left it in her Hip.  
Here, here the lamentable cries began:  
It was not possible by hand of man,  
Or iron instrument, or aught beside  
To get it out. Perchance t' 'ave opened wide  
The wound b' a greater wound, and so have made  
One iron dive after another, had  
Effected the great cure. But Silvio's hand,  
Too pitiful, too much with Love unmanned  
The Surgeon was, so cruelly to heal.  
Love searches not with instruments of steel  
The wounds he makes. As for the love-sick Maid,  
In Silvio's hands her wounds grew sweet, she said.  
And Silvio said (not yet discouraged)  
Thou shalt out too, thou shalt, cursed Arrow-head,  
And with less pain than is believed: the same  
Who thrust thee in, can pull thee out again.  
By using hunting I have learned to cure  
This mischief which my hunting did procure.  
A plant there is much used by the wild Goat  
When there's a shaft into her body shot:  
She showed it us, and Nature showed it her:  
(Remembered happily!) nor is it far  
From hence. Straight went he to the neighbouring hill,  
And there a flasket with this Plant did fill;  
Then came again to us: thence squeesing out  
The juice, and mingling it with Sentry root  
And Plantain leaf, thereof a pultise made.  
O wonderful! as soon as that was laid  
Upon the sore, the blood was staunched straight,  
And the pain ceased; and soon after that,  
The iron coming without pain away,  
Did the first summons of the hand obey:  
The Maid was now as vigorous and sound,  
As if she never had received the wound.  
Nor mortal was't; for th' arrow having flown  
(As happed) betwixt the muscles and the bone,  
Pierced but the fleshy part.  Cor. 
Thou hast displayed  
Much virtue in a plant, more in a Maid.  Lin. 
What afterwards between 'em happened  
May better be imagined then said:  
This I am sure, Dorinda's well again,  
And now can stir her body without pain:  
Though thou believest, Corisca, I suppose  
H' o'th' given her since more wounds than that: but those,  
As they are made b' a different weapon, so  
Themselves are of a different nature too.  
And such a trick this cruel Archer has,  
Of hitting all he shoots at since he was  
A Huntsman; that to show he's still the same,  
Now he's a Lover too, he hits the Game.  Cor. 
Old Linco still!  Lin. 
Faith, my Corisca, still  
If not in strength, I'm Linco in my will.  
Nor yet, though my leafe's withered, am I dead:  
But all my sap into the root is fled.  Cor. 
My Rival thus dispatched, I'll now go see  
If I can get my deer Mirtillo free.   

Scena octava.  ERGATO, CORISCA. Erg. 
O Day with wonders fraught! O day of mirth!  
All Love! and blessings all! O happy earth!  
O bounteous heaven!  Cor. 
But see! Ergasto's here:  
How opportunely doth he now appear!  Erg. 
At such a time let every living thing,  
Heaven, Earth, Air, Fire, the whole world laugh and sing.  
To hell itself let our full joys extend,  
And there the torments of the damned suspend.  Cor. 
What rapture's this!  Er. 
Blessed woods! whose murmuring voice  
When we lamented did lament, rejoice  
At our joys too, and wag as many tongues  
As you have leaves now dancing to the songs  
Of the pleased Birds, and music of the Air  
Which rings with our delight. Sing of a pair  
Of noble Lovers the felicity  
Unparalleled.  Cor. 
He doth speak certainly  
Of Silvio and Dorinda? Every thing  
I see, would live." How soon the shallow spring  
" Of tears dries up with us! but the swollen river  
" Of gladness tarries with the longer liver.  
Of Amarillis, who is dead, there's now  
No more discourse: the only care is how  
" To laugh with them that laugh; and 'tis well done:  
" Each man hath too much sorrow of his own.  
Whither (so glad) Ergasto dost thou go?  
Unto a Wedding happily?  Erg. 
I do  
Indeed. Hast heard Corisca then, the wonder  
O'th' two blessed Lovers? was't not strange?  Cor. 
I underStood it of Linco now with joy of heart,  
Which my great grief doth mitigate in part  
For the sad death of Amarillis.  Erg. 
How!  
Whom dost thou speak of, or speak I thinkst thou?  Cor. 
Why, of Dorinda, and of Silvio.  Erg. 
What Silvio? what Dorinda? Dost not know  
Then what hath passed? My joy its lineage draws  
From a more high, stupendious, noble Cause.  
Of Amarillis and Mirtillo I  
Discourse (the happiest Pair that this day fry  
Under the torrid Zone of Love).  Cor. 
Is not  
Then Amarillis dead, Ergasto?  Erg. 
What  
Death? She's alive, glad, beauteous, and a Wife.  Cor. 
Thou mockest me Shepherd.  Er. 
No, upon my life.  Cor. 
Was she not then condemned?  Er. 
She was, 'tis true:  
But presently she was acquitted too.  Cor. 
Do I dream this? or dost thou dreams relate?  Erg. 
Stay here a little, thou shalt see her straight  
Come with her faithful and most fortunate  
Mirtillo, from the temple (where they 're now,  
And interchanged have their Nuptial vow)  
Towards Montano's: of the bitter root  
Of their long Loves to gather the sweet fruit.  
O hadst thou seen men's joys spring in their eyes!  
If thou hadst heard the music of their cries!  
The temple's still as full as it can hold  
Of numbers numberless: Men, women, old,  
Young, Prelates, Laymen, are confounded there  
Together, and distracted cannot bear  
Their joy. With wonder every one doth run  
To see the happy couple, every one  
Adores them, every one embraces them.  
Their pity one extols, another's theme  
Their constant faith is, or those graces given  
To them by Nature, or infused from Heaven.  
The land, the dale, the mountain, and the plain  
Resound the faithful Shepherd's glorious name,  
O happy, happy Lover, to become  
From a poor Swain, almost a God so soon;  
From death to life (whilst I speak this) to pass,  
And change a winding-sheet (which ready was)  
For a remote despair'd-of Nuptial,  
Though it be much, Corisca, is not all.  
But to enjoy her, whom he seemed t' enjoy  
In dying for her, her who would destroy  
Herself, not to excuse, but share his Fate,  
(His Mate in life, and not in death his Mate!)  
This is such joy, such ravishing joy is this  
As doth exceed all we can fancy Bliss.  
And dost not thou rejoice? and apprehend  
A joy for Amarillis, that's thy Friend  
As great as that which I do for my true  
Mirtillo?  Cor. 
Yes, dost thou not see I do?  Erg. 
O! if thou hadst present been  
Amarillis to have seen,  
As the pledge of Faith when she  
Gave her hand to him, and he  
As the pledge of Love did either  
Give or receive (I know not whether)  
A sweet inestimable kiss,  
Surely thou hadst died of bliss.  
There was Scarlet, there were Roses,  
All the colours, all the posies  
Art or Nature ere did mix  
Were excelled by her pure cheeks,  
Covered with a waving shield  
By her blushing Beauty held,  
Stained with blood, which did provoke  
From the striker a new stroke.  
And she coy and nice in show,  
Seemed to shun, that she might so  
With more pleasure meet the blow,  
Leaving it in doubt, if that  
Kisses were ravished, or not.  
With such admirable Art,  
'Twas in part bestowed, in part  
Snatched from her: And that disdain  
Which she did so sweetly fain,  
Was a willing No; an Act  
Mixed of Conquest and Compact.  
Such a coming in her flying  
As showed yielding in denying.  
Such sweet anger at th' abuse  
In forcing her, as forced him use  
That force again; such art to crave  
The thing she would not, yet would have,  
As drew him the faster on  
To snatch that which would be gone.  
O heavenly kiss! Corisca, I  
Can no longer hold; God bye.  
" I'll marry too, The Powers above  
" Give no true joy to men, but Love.  Cor. 
If he (Corisca) have told truth, this day  
Quite cures thy wits, or takes them quite away.   

Scena nona.  Chorus of Shepherds, CORISCA, AMARILLIS, MIRTILLO. Cho. 
HOly Hymen hear our prayer  
And our Song! The Earth hath not  
A more happy loving pair:  
Both of them Divinely got;  
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destined knot.  Cor. 
Ay me! Ergasto told me true (I see)  
This is the fruits (wretch) of thy vanity.  
O thoughts! O wishes! as unjust, as vain  
And fond. Would I an innocent have slain  
To compass my unbridled will! So blind,  
So cruel was I? Who doth now unbind  
Mine eyes? Ah wretch! what do I see? my sin  
With the mask off just as 'tis here within.  Cho. 
Holy Hymen hear our prayer  
And our song! The Earth hath not  
A more happy loving Pair:  
Both of them divinely got:  
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destined knot.  
See (thou Faithful Shepherd) where  
After many a briny tear,  
After many a stormy blast,  
Thou art landed now at last!  
Is not this (behold her!) she  
Heaven and Earth denied to thee?  
And thy cruel Destiny?  
And her Icy Chastity?  
And thy degree so far beneath?  
And 〈◊〉 Contract? and thy Death?  
Yet Mirtillo (lo!) she's thine.  
That sweet face, those eyes divine,  
Breast and hands, and all that thou  
Seest and hear'st, and touchest now,  
And so often hast in vain  
Sighed for, now thou dost obtain,  
As thy constant Love's reward:  
Yet thy lips hath silence barred?  Mir. 
‛ Cannot speak: I do not know  
Whether I'm alive or no.  
Or if these things real be  
Which I seem to hear and see.  
Sweetest Amarillis mine,  
(For my soul is lodged in thine)  
I from thee would gladly know,  
(Tell me Love) are these things so?  Cho. 
Holy Hymen hear our prayer  
And our song! The Earth hath not  
A more happy loving Pair:  
Both of them divinely got:  
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destined knot.  Cor. 
But why do you, you still about me stay,  
Arts to deceive the world, arts to betray?  
(The body's robes, but the souls rags.) For one,  
I'm sure she's cozened by you, and undone.  
Pack hence: and as from worms ye had your birth,  
Return to worms, and strew your grandam earth.  
Once ye were weapons of lascivious Love:  
But now the trophies of fair Virtue prove.  Cho. 
Holy Hymen hear our prayer  
And our Song! The Earth hath not  
A more happy loving pair:  
Both of them Divinely got;  
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destined knot.  Cor. 
What stickest thou at Corisca? 'tis a day  
Of Pardons this: then ask without dismay.  
What dost thou dread? no punishment whatever  
Can fall so heavy, as thy fault lies here.  
Fair, and happy pair (the Love  
Of us here, and those above)  
If all earthly Power this day  
To your conquering Fates give way,  
Let her likewise Homage do  
To your conquering Fates, and you,  
Who all earthly Power employed  
To have made their Ordinance void.  
Amarillis (true it is)  
He had mine, who had thy heart:  
But thou only hast gained his,  
'Cause thou only worthy art.  
Thou enjoyest the loyall'st Lad  
Living; and Mirtillo thou  
The best Nymph the world ere had  
From the birth of Time till now:  
I the touchstone was to both,  
Tried her chastity, his troth.  
But thou (Courteous Nymph) before  
Thou on me thy anger power,  
Look but on thy Bridegroom's Face:  
Something thou wilt spy therein  
That will force thee to show grace,  
As it forced me to sin.  
For so sweet a Lover's sake  
Upon love no vengeance take;  
But since thou the flames dost prove,  
Pardon thou the fault of Love.  Am. 
I do not only pardon, but respect  
Thee as my friend, regarding the effect,  
And not the cause." For poisons if they make  
" Us well, the name of sovereign Medicines take;  
" And painful lance for that cause are dear:  
So whether friend or foe, or whatso ere  
Thou wert to me in purpose and intent;  
Yet my Fate used thee as her instrument  
To work my bliss, and that's enough: for me  
'Twas a good Treason, a blessed Fallacy  
I'm sure. And if thou please to grace our Feast,  
And to rejoice with us, thou art my guest.  Cor. 
Thy pardon is to me a better feast:  
A greater joy, my conscience now at rest.  Mir. 
And I all faults 'gainst me can pardon well,  
But this long stop.  Cor. 
Joys on you both! Farewell.  Cho. 
Holy Hymen hear our prayer  
And our Song! The Earth hath not  
A more happy loving Pair:  
Both of them divinely got:  
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destined knot.   

Scena decima.  MIRTILLO, AMARILLIS. Chorus of Shepherds. Mir. 
AM I so wedded then to grief and anguish,  
That in the midst of joy too I must languish?  
Was not this tedious pomp enough delay,  
But I must meet too my old Remora  
Corisca?  Am. 
Thou art wondrous hasty.  Mir. 
O  
My treasure! yet I am not sure; but go  
In fear of robbing still, till as my Spouse  
I do possess thee in my Father's house.  
To tell thee true, me thinks I fare like one  
Who dreams of wealth, and ever and anon  
Fears that his golden sleep will break, and he  
Be waked a beggar. I would gladly be  
Resolved by some more pregnant proof, that this  
Sweet waking now is not a dream of bliss.  Cho. 
Holy Hymen hear our prayer  
And our Song! The earth hath not  
A more happy loving pair:  
Both of them divinely got:  
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destined knot.  

CHORUS.  
O Happy couple! that hath sown in Tears  
And reaps in Comfort! What a foil your fears  
Prove to your joys! Blind Mortals, learn from hence,  
Learn (ye effeminate) the difference  
Betwixt true goods and false. All is not joy  
That tickles us: Nor is all that annoy  
That goes down bitter." True joy is a thing  
" That springs from Virtue after suffering.    
FINIS.   

Presented TO HIS HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF WALES, At his going into the West, Ann. M.DC.XLV.  
Together with CESAR'S COMMENTARIES.  
Sir,  
NOw that your Father, with the World's applause  
Employs your early Valour in his Cause,  
Set Cesar's glorious Acts before your sight,  
And know the man that could so do and write.  
View him in all his postures, see him mix  
Terror with love, Morals with Politics.  
That courage, which when fortune ebbed did flow,  
Which never trampled on a prostrate Foe,  
Admire and emulate. Before he fought,  
Observe how Peace by him was ever sought:  
How bloodless Victories best pleased him still,  
Grieving as oft as he was forced to kill.  
How most religiously he kept his word,  
And conquered more that way then by the sword.  
In whom was all we in a King could crave,  
Except that Right which you shall one day have.  
Yet think (Sir) it imports you to make good  
With all his worth the title of your blood.   

Presented TO HIS HIGHNESS, In the the West, Ann. Dom. 1646  
GRow Royal Plant, born for your Country's good,  
The hoped cure of our great flux of blood.  
That Union, and that peaceful golden Age,  
Which to your Grandsire 
* Buchanan in his Genethliacon to King james, out of which this is taken.  ancient Bards presage,  
And we supposed fulfilled in Him, appears  
By Fate reserved for your riper years.  
And Thou, self-hurt since that half-Vnion more  
Than ever, Britain, thou hadst been before,  
Raise thy dejected head, bind up thy hair  
With peaceful Olive, all those things repair  
Which fire and sword deface, and call again  
To their spoiled mansions thy fled Husbandmen.  
They need not fear to come, this Prince's Stars  
Promise an end to all our Civil Wars.  
Never shall English Scots, nor Scots again  
Infest the English with dire feuds, and stain  
Their swords in brother's blood, thy Towns lay waste:  
But their hands (prompt to War) henceforth make haste  
To clasp in an eternal League. And You  
(Blest Parents of a blessed Son) add to  
His great Birth equal Breeding; Civil Arts  
To Arts of War, and Piety to Parts.  
No Ship the Rudder so much turns and winds  
As princes' manners do their People's minds.  
Not Prisons, penal Laws, sharp Whips, severe  
Axes, with all the instruments of fear  
Can so constrain, as the dumb eloquence  
Of Virtue; and the love and reverence  
Of a well-governed Sceptre shall persuade  
Their wills, by great Examples easily swayed.  
As when th' Arabian Phoenix doth return  
From his perfumed cradle (his Sires Urn)  
Where e'er he flies the feathered people throng  
With acclamations to salute the young  
Admired King, not for his purple Seares  
And golden Pounce (the Regal marks he bears),  
Nor that he's rarely seen; but 'cause he brings  
His Father's honoured ashes on his wings,  
And funeral odours, that it may be known  
He climbed not till his death his spicy throne:  
(This Piety, a Virtue understood  
By brutes, attracts them: such a sense of good  
Nature that heavenly Steward doth dispense  
To every living thing that hath but sense)  
So do the People fix their eyes upon  
The King; admire, love, honour Him alone.  
In Him, as in a glass, their manners view  
And frame, and copy what they see Him do.  
That which the murdering Cannon cannot force,  
Nor plumed Squadrons of steel-glittering Horse,  
Love can. In this the People strive t' outdo  
The King; and when they find they're loved, love too.  
They serve, because they need not serve: and if  
A good Prince slack the reins, they make them stiff;  
And of their own accords invite that yoke,  
Which, if enforced on them, they would have broke.  
And He again, with this more tender grown▪  
More Father of his People, on his own  
Shoulders assumes their burdens, beats the way  
Which they must tread, and is the first t' obey  
What he commands; to pardon others prone,  
Inexorable to himself alone.  
Neither in Diet, Clothes, nor Train will He  
Exceed those banks should bound even Majesty;  
Nor rush like beasts to Venus, but confine  
His chaste desires to his own genial Vine.  
Who will with Silks his manly limbs un-nerve,  
That sees domestic Wool his Sovereign serve?  
Who can the married bed too narrow think,  
Which holds a King? or drown himself in drink  
Under a sober Prince? who'll dare the import  
Beyond-sea vices to infect a Court,  
And make his body with excess and ease  
A sink to choke his soul in, when he sees  
A Monarch curb his pleasures, and suppress  
Those weeds which make a Man a Wilderness.  
Such golden Tiber saw the peaceful Throne  
Of holy Numa, that of Solomon  
Palmie Euphrates. 'Twas not the keen blade,  
Or the thick quilted numerous Legion made  
Those Thrones secure: 'Twas not the warlike Steed,  
Nor the sythe-armed Chariots furious speed:  
But Wisdom, Mercy, (which no harm will cause)  
And Majesty, fenced with unarmed Laws.  
Whilst that great Captain, who the World had quelled,  
And those proud Lords that Rome in bondage held,  
By steel or poison ended their short date  
Of power, and blood with blood did expiate.  
Frank Nature never gave a better thing,  
Nor ever will to men, than a good King;  
In whom his own true Image God doth place.  
This, whether Kings shall in themselves deface  
By ugly Vice, or other men by wit  
Or force demolish, God will punish it  
As a high Sacrilege, and will not see  
Himself abused in Effigy.  
So cruel Nero, fierce Domitian so,  
And the Sicilian Tyrants, whilst they throw  
Dirt in their Maker's face with their black deeds,  
Are from the earth cut off, they and their seeds.  
So those rebellious servants that durst join  
Against their Lords, and impious Catiline  
That strove to wrest the sword from them to whom  
It was committed by the Laws of Rome,  
Pursued to fury and despair, did make  
Hard shift by a most wretched death to shake  
Their loathed lives off, leaving on their name  
The blot and brand of never-dying shame.  
These lessons let his tender years receive;  
His riper, practice: And let him believe,  
'Tis not so much both Indies to command,  
As first to rule himself, and then a Land.  
FINIS.   

Pag. 82. lin. 12. for love read lose.  
pag. 147. l. 5. for more read worse.