AMINTA: The FAMOUS PASTORAL.  
Written in Italian BY Signor Torquato Tasso. And Translated into English Verse BY John Dancer.  
Together with divers Ingenious POEMS.  
LONDON, Printed for John Starkey, at the Mitre, near the Middle Temple-gate in Fleetstreet. 1660.   

TO My much Honoured, AND Truly Noble Friend, Mr. R. B.  
Worthy Sir,  
ANcient custom, and the genius of the present times admit a dedication of those works which we esteem either profitable or pleasant to those we love or honour, this though it pretend little to profit, and as little to pleasure without your pleasing aspect, yet is intended as a demonstration of that honour and respect I bear your worth: which your favours to me have condignly merited.  
And to whom indeed should I dedicate both myself and labours? but to you, who have seemed to dedicate yourself wholly to my welfare? to whom should I present these effects of my leisure? but to you, by and from whom I received so comfortable an olium? to whom should I address, or whose protection should I crave for this work of mine? but his under whose protection I effected it?  
Yet pretend I not at all by this the least requital of your unlimited favours, which have encompassed me round like an Ocean, but only manifest to you, what I am almost confident you already believe; that, were my fortunes answerable to my desires, though your retorted Grace's might, and would still keep me out of the haven, yet should I use my utmost strength and endeavours to arrive at the Port of a wished for gratitude.  
In the mean time, please Sir to accept of this poor pledge of my weak, though willing, endeavours; and in thanks for your acceptance, this I really assure you, That though your protection should not render it more acceptable to others, yet will it more and more oblige me, and like a cipher added to a figure, double, if not triple, the score of your favours.  
For the work itself, let me make this Apology, That you know it to be the first that ever I undertook: so, for those faults which you may very probably find in it, I shall only implore that wont Candour and Generosity wherewith you have oft been pleased to pass by less pardonable errors.  
I am sorry your Commands conceal your Name, and must needs herein accuse you of some Injustice, both to myself and the World; to myself, in not giving my Pen the Honour to Proclaim, not only yours, but the Virtues of your Thrice Noble Family; And to the World, in not permitting them to be Honourers and Admirers of so rare a Pattern of Unparallelled Friendship.  
To conclude. That the God of Heaven would plentifully pour down the choicest of his blessings upon you and your Worthy Consort, and enable you to the Continuance of your favours towards me; and me to some way to Merit, or means to Requite them. Is the earnest Prayer of  
Your Devoted Servant John Dancer.   

To The READER:  
Courteous Reader,  
I Here present to thy view, a Work of that Excellent Italian Poet's, Torquato Tasso, Whose sweet and Mellifluous strains, made him not only esteemed the Apollo of his Nation, but thought worthy that Honour by Frreign Wits. This is his Aminta; a Piece Valued by themost Refined Judgements above all his other Poems: and so much Valued, That the admired Baptista Guarini confesses himself its Imitator, in his Famous, and so much Adored Pastor Fido. If it have suffered by my Translation, I am sorry. I must confess I envied, but cannot fancy to have reached the Happiness of Fanshaw's Style. 'Tis the first Work ever I undertook, so, though there may be errors, condemn me not for the first fault, the next may be better; hour accept this, as it is, but Friendly, and I have enough.  
J. D.   

Prologue.  

Cupid in Pastoral habit.  
HOw could it enter into mortal breast:  
That under humane shape, and pastoral vest,  
Lay hid a god? nay more, no god o'th' woods,  
Or one of the inferior rank of gods,  
A god Celestial: who doth justly claim,  
Among the greatest the most powerful name:  
Who often makes victorious Mars to lay  
His conquering sword, and bloody spear away.  
Great Neptune who so fills the world with wonder,  
Yields him his trident; Jove himself his thunder.  
Sure with this aspect, in this habit clad,  
Venus can ne'er discern her smooth-faced lad,  
Or know him thus transformed. I'm forced to fly,  
And hid myself from her, because that I  
Scorn for to be her subject, or my darts  
Should be her slaves: and only wound those hearts  
They're levelled at by her, and what's that vain,  
Ambitious woman dare my shafts restrain?  
At Kings and Princes Courts she only will  
That 'mongst great Ladies I employ my skill,  
And to my lower Ministers conceads  
To practise theirs amongst the woods and Meads,  
In rustic breasts. I though you may me deem  
A boy, am none, and will, as best shall seem  
To me, dispose my shafts, since mine of old  
Are both th'omnipotent torch, and bow of gold:  
Wherefore (to hid myself and to fly from  
Her force, not, but her prayers strong when they come  
From an importunate mother) in these plains,  
I refuge seek amongst the rural swains,  
And myself shelter in these woods, but she  
Ceases nor day nor night to follow me,  
Promising those would tell her where I were  
Or kisses sweet, or what's than them more dear:  
As if that she my giving too could bar  
Of kisses sweet, or what's more pleasant far,  
To those that hid me from her, this at least;  
I know my kisses will be counted best:  
(If I that love am of love understand)  
So that she oft seeks for me vainly, and  
Loses her pains: Since none so foolish are,  
As to disclose or tell her where I were.  
But least by counter signs she should me know,  
My wings, my dart, my quiver, and my bow,  
I have laid by, yet come not I disarmed,  
Or weaponless, for see how I have charmed  
My torch into this rod; which has the same  
Force it had first, and burns though with a flame  
Invisible, this likewise is my old  
Dart that I used, which though its head of gold  
Be changed, yet this of divine tempered steel  
Who ere it pierces makes loves flames to feel.  
This day I'll make the trial; and my dart  
Shall show its divine power o'er the heart.  
Less bosom of the cruelest nymph before  
This time that ever followed Diane's Chore,  
And chastest Silvia's plague shall be the same,  
(For that's of this hardhearted Nymph the name,)  
As that of famed Aminta, who did feel  
Long since, the power of my Divinest steel;  
When he and she both tender used to sport,  
In the chaste pleasures of bright Cynthia's Court.  
But cause the wound shall be more inward, I  
Will stay until some pity mollify  
That so hard frost which round about her heart  
Her virgin-pride hath fixed, then I'll my dart  
Let fly with its full force; and cause I'll please  
Myself in doing it, and do't with ease,  
I'll mix myself among the shepherd's crew  
Which passed by just now, who always do  
On holidays make sport within this plain,  
And to be one of them myself I'll fain;  
Then with the best occasion give the blow,  
So slyly, as no mortal eye shalt know.  
In a strange manner shall these woods, to day,  
Be heard of love to reason, that it may,  
Clearly (my sacred Deity is here)  
(And not my under Ministers) appear.  
These rustic Silvane breasts I will endue  
With divine senses, teach them how to woo  
In lofty language, that it may be known  
That love where e'er he is, is always one,  
Whether he pleases for to make his nest  
Or in a Swains, or in a Hero's breast.  
Then if my beauteous mother, who has tried  
Her utmost art to know where I abide  
By these feats know not, she's more blind than I  
For blind by wrong, men call my Deity.    

TASSO'S AMINTA.  

Act. 1.  

Scen. I.  Daphne and Silvia. Daph. 
ARt thou resolved then Silvia to consume  
Thy fairest youth? can't thy heart find a room  
For Venus' pleasures? wilt not know those joy's  
A Mother takes to sport with her sweet boys?  
Shall so much beauty be to woods confined?  
Change, fondling that thou art, change, change thy mind.  Sil. 
Let others follow loves delights for me,  
If that in love any delight there be.  
This life me pleases best; Nor do I know  
Ought I take pleasure in, but in my bow;  
This is my chiefest comfort, for to follow  
The wild beasts in the chase, hear huntsmen hollow:  
Nor do I fear such sports will wanting be.  Da. 
More sottish sports, more sottish life, dost see?  
This life thee pleases cause thou hast not proved  
As yet another, cause thou hast not loved.  
" So in the infant world, and when as yet,  
" The simple people knew no better meat,  
" Acorns and water, were accounted sweet:  
" But when th'earth did abound with corn and wine,  
" Acorns and water than were food for swine.  
So shouldst thou taste but one poor thousand part  
Of the sweet joys of love, thou'dst say, dear heart,  
Why didst thou six my pleasure on such toys  
And leave me widow to more real joys?  
Thou'lt sorrowful repent the lost time past  
And curse it now for running on so fast.  
How many a widow night, how many a day  
I've ignorantly spent! thou'lt sighing say.  
Change then,  fool, change change thy mind I pray,  
Lest when'ts too late thou do repent in vain  Sil. 
Daphne, when I repent or o'er again  
Repeat these words of thine, which thou dost feign '  
Just as thou list, then let the rivers turn  
Back to their fountains; let the Ocean burn,  
The wolves fly from the tender lamo, the hares  
Pursue the greyhounds; then let the fierce bears,  
Inhabit waters: and let dolphin's range  
The fields, whenever I my mind do change.  Daph. 
This is mere childishness, Sister, as thou  
Art, I was once. (Alas!) although that now  
I'm changed by age, even just so neat, so fair  
My countenance was, so golden was my hair,  
Just such a cherry lip, just such a Rose,  
I did in th'middle of my cheek disclose;  
'Twas my delight, then, Silvia, (now I find  
A foolish one it was) to hunt the Hind,  
Fellow the footsteps of wild beasts, my net  
Spread to untrap the birds, take care to whet  
My dart; and if I did but chance to spy  
Some youthful Shepherd cast an amorous eye,  
I looked down with scorn, and with disdain,  
Counting what was my grace to be my pain,  
And nought was more displeasing unto me  
Then see me pleasing unto others be:  
But yet at length, time and th'importunate  
Prayers of my faithful lover, did abate  
That Virgin frost, Sister, I was (and bless  
The hour) o'ercome at last, I do confess,  
And in one night's black shade I did learn more  
Than I had done in all my life before:  
So now I did my former folly know,  
I quite renounced both Cynthia's; life and bow:  
And so I hope thou wilt too, and at last  
Aminta's sighs may melt thy flinty breast.  
How canst thou choose but love him? canst deny  
He's handsome? then pray tell the reason, why?  
Thinkest thou he loves thee not? or does love any  
Better than thee, though he be loved by many?  
If so, why does he so thy love pursue?  
Thinkest him not enough noble? if thou do  
Though from this River's god the third thou be,  
Third from great Pan the shepherd's god is he.  
Why then despi'st thou him? thinkest thou the lilies  
Of the fair cheeks of fairest Amarillis,  
Are not as beautiful as thine? yet he  
Thou seest despiseth her, and follows thee;  
She follows him and seeks his love, and thou,  
Though he seeks thine, refusest his; pray now  
Imagine, he, thus crossed by thy disdain  
(God grant th'imagination be but vain)  
Should leave thee and take her, I fain would know  
Whether it would not grieve thee yea or no?  
'Tis better to accept him then, by half,  
Then taking her both at thy folly laugh.  Sil. 
Let ‛ minta and his loves disposed be,  
As best him pleaseth littleed imports me:  
Nor who his love has, so I do it miss,  
Care I, mine he can't be, since I'm not his:  
And though he mine were, his I would not be.  Daph. 
From whence proceeds this hatred now from thee?  
If I were thee I'd strive to love him rather.  Sil. 
It's from his love.  Daph. 
Strange child of such a Father,  
When was fierce tiger born of gentle lamb?  
Or when from Swan's egg a black crow e'er came?  
Sister thou cheatest or thyself or me.  Sil. 
I hate his love, cause he my honesty:  
And I should love him while he would not crave  
Aught else of me but what myself would have,  Daph. 
Thou only whilst thy hurt, he only would  
Wish that to thee which wish himself he should:  Sil. 
Daphne, or talk of somewhat else, or hold  
Thy peace I pray.  Daph. 
O gods! do but behold  
This perverse wench! but prithee Sister do,  
But answer this, If that another sue  
Should for thy love, wouldst thus requite his pain?  Sil. 
Who would entrap my chastity, the same  
Requite should find from me, what e'er he be,  
Whom thou stillest lover, I am enemy.  Daph. 
The Ram unto the ewe dost thou esteem  
Or to the tender heifer the bull deem,  
Enemies to be, or doth the Turtle dove  
Reject her mate, because he doth her love:  
Seest thou the fragrant season of the year,  
How every thing doth sweet and green appear?  
This pleasant verdure covering o'er the plains,  
Invites, alas, not only nymphs and Swains,  
But very beasts to love, and dost not see,  
How all things in the world enamoured be?  
See how those two doves whisper, with what willing,  
And joint consent as 'twere they two are billing!  
You Nightingale which hops from grove to grove  
Still as she hops, she sings, I love, I love;  
The cruel Adder who doth stop his ears.  
And having stung, will not be charmed by tears,  
Or cries, is charmed by sweetest love: i'th' woods  
The tigers love, the fishes in the floods  
Love too, but thou more cruel than a beast  
Deniest sweet love an entrance in thy breast;  
But what talk I of beasts; seest thou each tree  
In this vast forest? they enamoured be.  
Behold with what a sweet embrace the vine  
Does her dear consort lovingly intwine,  
The fir doth love the fir, the pine the pine;  
You stubborn oak, which scarce the wind can move,  
Is moved by th'power of divinest love,  
Hadst thou a spirit of love, or if of stone,  
Were not thy heart, thou'dst hear it sigh and groan,  
And utter forth it's amorous plaints: yet thou  
For all this art not moved to love, why now  
Wilt thou than plants or beasts be more unkind?  
Change, fondling that thou art, change, change thy mind:  Sil. 
When I of plants the amorous sighs shall hear  
I'll likewise be in love, till then forbear.  Daph. 
Well though thou now laugh at, and dost disdain  
My faithful counsels; know that to thy pain  
Thou wilt repent, thou dost not while thou may  
Them follow; for be sure there comes a day,  
When what's to thee a pleasure and delight,  
Shall be thy greatest grief, thy greatest spite;  
And as thou now disdainest others, so,  
Thou'lt then despise thy very self; and know  
Those so clear springs in which thou oft dost use  
Thy most resplendent beauty to peruse,  
Thou'lt leave forsaken and neglected now,  
Or stand amazed at thy wrinkled brow  
But why speak I of this? since 'tis a sure  
And common evil we must all endure:  
I'll tell thee more, and mark me what I say,  
'Tis what the sage Elpino t'other day  
Recounted unto Licoris the fair  
The gentile Licoris: whose beauty rare,  
Has such power o'er Elpino, as his art  
In singing ought t'have o'er her pliant heart;  
If there be any debt in love. He told  
It before amorous Thirs and Battus old,  
Just at the entrance of Aurora's cave,  
Where writ in golden Characters you have;  
All you that are profane depart from hence,  
And said that it was told to him long since  
By the grand Poet, who so high did sing  
The life of many a Hero, many a King,  
Who dying did leave him his pipe, There is  
Says he, at bottom o'th' profound abyss,  
A horrid cave, vomiting smoke with fire,  
And a most constant stink out of the dire  
Furnace of Acheronta, where do lie,  
In torments dark, and that eternally  
Those women; who persuaded here above,  
Neither by prayers, nor tears, could be to love:  
And 'tis a just, and well deserved law,  
Smoke should force tears, which pity could not draw:  
Then if thou thus thy cruelty continue,  
Look to be consort with that cursed retinue.  Sil. 
But what said Licoris to this, and how  
Answered she him;  Daph. 
Why see! thou fain wouldst know  
Others affairs, but carest not for thine own:  
She answered with her eyes.  Sil. 
With eyes alone  
How could she answer him?  Dap. 
Those very eye's  
Were, as 'twere, messengers, or rather spies;  
Which mixed with pleasant smiles to him made known,  
Licoris and her heart were now his own:  
Except he did believe, faith was as rare  
In them as beauty; she as false as fair.  Sil. 
Why should he so believe?  Daph. 
know'st thou what Thir's,  
That famous Master both of Love and Verse,  
Did write, when burning with the flames of love  
He wand'ring through the forest, did both move  
The nymphs & swains to laughter? but though he  
Did things worth laughter, yet his writings be  
Not to be jeered; this in a tree he writ,  
With th'tree it grew, and there I oft read it:  
The looking-glasses of false hearts your eyes  
Are; and in them all deceit hidden lies,  
But what availsed since shun them love denies:  Sil. 
I here in prattling cast my time away,  
And had forgot this is th'appointed day,  
In which we ought to go, as we were wont,  
In Eliceto for to raise the Hunt.  
Prithee do thou stay for me while i'th' nigh  
Fountain I cleanse the sweat, and dust which I,  
Got yesterday by hunting of a Deer,  
Which at the last I killed;  Daph. 
I'll stay thee here  
Perhaps I'll bathe me too, but first my gate,  
I'll homewards bend for it's not yet so late  
As't seems, and thou at home for me mayst stay:  
But in the mean time think of that, I pray,  
Concerns thee more than hunting, and say I  
Bid thee take a fools counsel, so god bye.   

Act. 1. Scen. 2.  Aminta and Thirsis. A. 
I have with my laments, my sighs, my groans  
To pity moved, both the rocks and stones;  
But moved I have not nor can hope to move  
Her I adore, to pity or to love:  
Remorseless Nymph, I know not which I best  
May style thee, or a woman; or fierce beast  
For thou to be a woman dost deny,  
Since more than best'al is thy cruelty.  Thir. 
The lambs on tender grass, wolves on lambs feed,  
And both do satisfy their hungry need:  
But though love feed on tears, the more it have  
Of tears and sighs, it still the more doth crave;  Amin. 
Alas! alas! love long since with the food  
Of my tears satiate is, now for my blood  
It only thirsts, and therefore to the eyes  
Of it and that cru'l nymph I'll make't a prize:  Thir. 
Why talk'st thou thus Aminta? if unkind  
And cruel she be, thou'lt another find.  Amin. 
How can I find another, when that I  
Can't find my very self, or pray whereby  
Can one lost to himself  pleasure gain?  Thir. 
Do not despair, at length thou mayst obtain  
This cruel fair; time teaches men to check,  
Lions, and bring fierce tigers to their beck:  Amin. 
But whilst that I wait out this long delay,  
I shall with grief be quite consumed away:  Thir. 
Short the delay will be, for the disdain  
Of woman's kindled soon, soon quenched again:  
They're movable by nature, nor the wind,  
Can breathe more changes than a woman's mind:  
Lighter than feathers, and will readier bow,  
Then ripened ears before a storm; but thou,  
Of thy condition farther let me know,  
And the hard fortune of thy love, for though  
Thou long since toldst me that thou wast in love,  
Yet thou hidst from me, who it was could move  
In thee this amorous fire, although that faith,  
And ever constant friendship 'twixt us hath  
Obliged thee to discover that to me,  
Which unto others might concealed be.  Amin. 
Thirsis, I am content to tell thee what  
The woods and mountains know, but men know not,  
And 'tis but just that I being now so nigh,  
My death, should leave the reason why I die  
To some dear friend, who may when I am gone  
Report it, or may graved in tree or stone,  
Near the place where my bloodless corpse shall lie,  
That if that pit'lesse Nymph chance to pass by.  
She may stamp on't with her proud foot, and boast,  
That her dire cruelty my life me cost;  
And that she may rejoice to see me lie,  
There as a trophy of her victory.  
Perhaps at last she may (but things above  
Desert I hope) both pity then and love  
Him dead, who living by her hate was slain,  
And with salt tears may wish me back again;  
But listen now.  Thir. 
Proceed; I well thee mind,  
And am to help thee at thy need inclined.  Amin. 
I was as yet a child & scarce could crop  
Those fruits the willing trees did seem to drop,  
From their full loaden branches near the earth,  
When full of jollity and harmless mirth,  
Not knowing love, or caring it to know,  
With th' sweetest nymph I did familiar grow,  
That in the wind  spread a golden hair,  
It was the rich Cidippe's daughter fair;  
Grandchild unto the great Montan, whose flocks  
And mighty herds fill both the woods and rocks,  
Silvia, the glory of the woods, the fire  
Of every heart, of all souls the desire:  
With her I kept such faithful company,  
That 'twixt two Turtles ne'er the like could be;  
Nothing to me than Silvia was dearer,  
Near were our houses, but our hearts were nearer:  
Her age was equal almost with my own,  
But 'twixt our thoughts, there was no difference known;  
With her I often used to spread the snares,  
To catch the simple birds, or fearful hares:  
With her I used to force swift Does to flight,  
Equal the prey was, equal the delight;  
But whilst we thus made prize of beasts: a prize  
Myself was made to her all-conquering eyes;  
And like a weed which of itself doth grow,  
So grew there in my bosom, from I know  
Not yet what root, a strange and unknown fire,  
Which made me Silvia's presence more desire:  
Her eyes were food to me, sweet, but did leave  
A bitter; did me of all joys bereave:  
And though my sighs, alas, now were not few,  
Yet of those many sighs no cause I knew.  
Thus was I,  that I could it discover,  
By her fair eye's forced to becoem a lover:  
But how I came to know't at last, do thou  
Take notice pray.  Thir. 
Proceed and tell me how.  Amin. 
When Phoebus bright his hottest beams displayed,  
Silvi ' and Phillis once chanced ' seek a shade  
Under a spreading beech, when, lo, a Bee  
Buzzing about Phillis fair cheeks chanced see  
The lovely red she did in them disclose,  
Did make the Bee mistake them for a Rose,  
And think to gather honey from that sweet,  
She lights: but with too harsh salute did greet  
Those rosean cheeks, and Phillis with the pain,  
Of the sharp sting most sadly did complain;  
When my Dear Silvia told her: Phillis pray  
Lament not thus, I soon will take away  
Thy pain with an enchantment, which I learned  
Of the sage Aresia, and I earned  
It well, for in requital of it I  
Gave unto her my horn of Ivory,  
Which was adorned with gold. Thus having said  
Her sweeter lips to Phillis cheek she laid:  
Just where the Bee had stung her, and she there  
Muttred some words which well I could not hear:  
But O most wonderful! Phillis had ease  
Immediately, and all her pain did cease.  
Whether it was her Magic art or no,  
That so soon wrought the cure I done't well know,  
But I believe in her sweet mouth was such  
Virtue that it did heal all it did touch.  
I, that before had so restrained the fire  
Of love, that nothing else I did desire,  
But Silvia's presence, and a paradise  
It was to feast myself on her fair eye's,  
Or hear the sweet tunes of her warbling voice,  
More pleasing far to me than was the noise,  
The little pebbles make in murmuring sloods,  
Or than the wind when't sings among the woods  
Was now by an ambitious spirit inclined,  
To a desire which wished my lips were joined  
To hers. This amorous desire me taught,  
A very subtle craft which at length brought  
Me wished success (do but observe how love  
Makes men's ingenios nimbly for to move)  
Her wondrous cure on Phillis I did see,  
The sight of that taught me to feign a Bee  
Had bit my under lip, and though her pray  
I durst not for to take my pain away  
By her enchantment, yet did my lament  
Express as 'twere to her my heart's intent;  
She harmless soul pitying the grief that I  
Made show of, proffered freely to apply  
Her cure to my feigned wound, which added fuel,  
To my heart's wound, and made it far more cruel.  
Oh Thirsis! never Bee did suck from Rose,  
Honey so sweet as I did suck from those  
Sweet cherries of her lips, though every kiss,  
Me thought did yet want some part of its bliss,  
For though I had a full desire, yet I  
Was or restrained by fear, or modesty:  
But whilst this honey mixed with gall descended  
Thus to my heart, I sorry so soon ended  
Should be my bliss, feigned that her charms did ease  
Me somewhat, but not quite the pain surcease;  
Which made her willingly to take the trouble,  
That to me sweet enchantment to redouble;  
Thus so increased this love within my breast,  
That at the last 'twas forced to leave its nest:  
Nor would it be kept secret, so one day,  
When we were sit as we were wont to play;  
Shepherds and Nymphs together on the grass,  
Each lad some secrets whispering to his lass:  
I Silvia told, Silvia, I burn for thee,  
And sure shall die unless thou helpest me;  
Straight at my words there in her face arose  
A blush both shame and anger did disclose:  
Bowed to the ground her fair face was, and she  
With nought but an harsh silence answered me,  
And from me turned, nor ever would she deign,  
Since that to see or hear me speak again,  
Though full three years are past and I have tried  
All means I could to get her pacified,  
Except my death; and could but that appease  
Her anger, I methinks could die with ease,  
And should account it highly worth my pain,  
If I by death her pity could obtain,  
And for my faith would deem it recompense,  
Should she lament me when I'm gone from hence;  
But why should I wish grief unto that breast,  
In which I fixed have my joy, my rest?  Thir. 
But is it possible if she should hear  
Thee say thus much? she longer could forbear,  
This true love to requite?  Amin. 
That know not I,  
But when I'd speak she more my words doth fly,  
Than doth an aspe the charmer.  Thir. 
Trust to me,  
Aminta, and I will procure that she  
Shall hearken to thee.  Amin. 
Nothing from her can you,  
Thirsis, procure, or if procure you do  
That I speak to her, yet alas in vain  
Will be my speech, and I shall nothing gain:  Thir. 
Why dost despair so?  Amin. 
Just occasion I  
Have to despair, nay rather for to die;  
For the wise Mopsu's long since did foreshow  
This my hard fortune. Mopsus, who doth know  
The virtue of all herbs, and talk of birds.  Thir. 
Which Mopsus speak'st thou of? of him whose words  
Are honeyed, and who has a friendly smile  
In's face, but in his heart has nought but guile:  
Be of good cheer, Aminta, do not fear,  
Those uncouth prophecies he sells so dear  
To unadvised persons, I reject  
As foolish, for they never have effect;  
This know I by experience, and I,  
'Cause he hath thus foretold, do hope thereby  
That in thy love all things will succeed well,  Amin. 
If by experience thou canst aught me tell  
Which comfort may my hope, pray don't it hid,  Thir. 
When I came hither first for to abide  
Within these woods, I knew and did esteem,  
This Mopsus such as thou dost now him deem;  
I had by chance occasion for to go  
To the great City; which I let him know  
As hoping his advice, when thus to me  
He spoke, To the great land thou go'st, said he,  
Where the sly Citizens and those o'th' Court  
Of simple rustics make a scoffing sport;  
Therefore be sure this counsel take of mine,  
Come not near those whom thou shalt see to shine  
With gold and stones, and other vain devices,  
But above all (and slight not my advices)  
Beware, lest thou be led by thy ill fate,  
Or youthful curios'ty to the gate  
O'th' magazine of pratlers. Then straight I  
Demanded of him, what that place might be?  
In this place Sorceresses live, said he;  
Who by enchantments do all things unveil,  
What to thee seems pure gold, to them is pale  
And sordid brass, those arches thou with treasure  
Deemst filled, are dirt and mire out of measure;  
There are the walls built with great art, and do  
Speak themselves, and to speakers answer too:  
Nor do they answer a dumb voice alone,  
As Echo here, but in words one by one,  
Tables and stools and all go tittle tattle,  
And should a dumb man enter here he'd prattle.  
But there's worse evil yet, here mayst thou be  
Changed into water, fire, or a tree,  
Water of tears, and fire of sighs: content,  
With this fond foresight I to th'City went,  
Where guided by blessed fate I chanced to spy  
The happy lodge, as I was passing by;  
With curious eye expecting something worth  
My sight, I chanced to hear at length come forth  
Out of the gate such pleasant murmuring noises,  
Of nymphs and Sirens the harmonious voices,  
As made me stand astonished with delight,  
The object pleased so both my ears and sight.  
Just by the gate as guard to things so good,  
A man of a magnan'mous aspect stood;  
To whom I do not well know which I were  
Best give that stile of Duke, or Cavalier,  
He with benign and grave aspect together,  
Invited great and small to come in thither,  
Nor did he me poor simple soul despise;  
O gods what did I see there! near mine eyes  
Enjoyed such blessed sights, nymphs full as fair,  
As heavenly goddesses, or far more rare:  
Beauties more bright than glittering Phoebus beams,  
When, at his rise he guild's the eastern streams;  
There sat Apollo, and the Muses nine,  
Shining in all their Graces, so Divine;  
And, 'mongst the Muses, sat the sage Elpin.  
Then was I ravished, with a high desire,  
Then, first I flamed with a Poetic fire;  
I sang the lives of Kings, o'th' ancient times,  
Scorning a mean verse, or pastoral rhymes;  
And, though again I to these woods returned,  
By my ill destiny: yet still I burned  
With some part of that fire: yet did abound,  
My Pipe, still, with a more than rural sound.  
But, envious Mopsus, chancing me to spy,  
One day cast at me a Malignant eye:  
Whereby, I hoarse became, and then long time  
I silent was, and sung no more in rhyme.  
Seen by the Wolf, Pastors supposed me,  
Which caused my silence: but that wolf was he;  
This I have told thee, that thou mayst perceive,  
How willing is this Mopso to deceive,  
And void of faith, and therefore cause he will  
Thee void of hope, I'd have thee hope more still.  Amin. 
It pleases me extremely, for to hear  
What thou hast told, then of my life the care  
To thee I do commit.  Thir. 
Let me alone,  
I care will take of it, as of my own;  
I'll go see what for thee I can prevail,  
Then in an hour to meet me do not fail.   

CHORUS.  

MOst blessed age of gold! not cause the floods  
Streamed down pure snow, white milk: nor cause the woods  
Distilled sweet honey, or, the free earth bore  
Her fruits untouched, nor had her bowels tore;  
As yet by th' labr'ing ploughman, lambs might err  
Through the thick forests, without noise or fear;  
Nor yet because no winter's clouds begun  
T ' eclipse that Radiant Splendour of the Sun,  
With which its warm and pleasant beams did bring  
The wished-for happiness of a constant spring;  
Nor wand'ring pines did yet, with sails unfold,  
For war or gain compass the late known world.  
But, only cause that foolish, and that vain,  
Idol of errors, and deceit, that name  
So without substance, which the Vulgar, mad,  
Did afterwards call Honour, as yet had  
No Power to play the Tyrant, or control  
The Peace and Freedom of a jovial soul.  
But nymphs and pastors sweetly lived, nor knew  
Any delight, but what from freedom grew,  
Not subject, but to law performed with ease  
Which nature writ; Is lawful if it please.  
No need there was of Cupid's torch to move  
Or shafts to force the Nymphs and Swains to love,  
Their very sports inflamed them and their smiles  
They mix with their sweet words, and then  while,  
Both with their sweeter kisses than the rose,  
Of her fair cheeks the Virgin did disclose  
Freely to all; which now alas are blown,  
To the delight and pleasure but of one;  
Then often by the waters of a bright  
Spring, lovers used to take their full delight.  
But thou perversest honour first didst shade  
This fountain of delight, and thou first made  
This freedom cease, and thou didst first deny  
Water to quench his thirst whom love made dry;  
Thou taught'st those splendent beauties first to lie,  
Veiled and obscured from every amorous eye;  
Their all gold shining hair thou didst restrain,  
Into a net, and thou hast put a rain  
To all sweet dear lascivious acts, and we  
Think now that theft which used loves gift to be,  
And all these acts of thine turn to our pain:  
But thou great Jove who with thy power dost reign,  
O'er love and nature with a word, canst tame  
The greatest Monarches and whose very name  
Strikes terror, why alas dost take delight,  
To disturb us poor miscreants? king's of might  
And power best fit thy thoughts, disturb their peace,  
And grant great god that we may live at ease,  
And by thy divine providence be hurled  
Into the golden— o'th' ancient world.  
We'll hope, since there's no joy, when once one dies  
We'll hope; that as we have seen with our eyes  
The Sun to set, so we may see it rise.     

Act. 2.  

Scen. 1.  Satire alone. 

SMall is the Bee, much smaller is her sting,  
Yet doth its wound both pain & sorrow bring,  
But what's more small than love? since it conceals  
Itself within such minute parts, and steals  
Into the smallest spaces, now it rests  
Within the valley of two alp-like breasts:  
Now creeps and hides itself within the fair  
And curled tresses of a golden hair:  
Now under twinkling eyebrows, now i'th' sleek  
And rosy dimples of a laughing cheek;  
Yet are its wounds, its plagues, so sad, so sore,  
That nought can be imagined torment more.  
Ah me! my very bowels and my heart  
Boil o'er with blood, and like a cruel dart,  
So Silvia's fair eye's pierce me, I may say  
Cruel Love; but far more cruel Silvia,  
Cru'ler than woods, Oh! how well doth agree  
Thy nature with thy name, well did he see  
That it imposed thee, woods in their green brakes  
Do hid fierce lions, tigers, wolves and snakes,  
Thou under covert of thy fairest breast,  
Hidest anger, hatred and disdain, which beasts  
Are worse by much (alas) than those of prey,  
As lions, tigers, wolves or snakes; for they  
May be appeased, but ay me! these are  
Such, as will not be charmed by gift or prayer;  
Thou slights the flower which from the fields I chose  
Because thy cheek flowers much fairer shows.  
I from the orchards bring thee apples fair,  
Which thou rejectst disdainful, cause there are  
In thy fair bosom apples far more rare.  
I bring thee sweetest honey, even such  
From hives I stole thou, deignst it not to touch  
Cause on thy sweet lips sweeter there's by much;  
But if my poverty permits me not  
To give unto thee any thing but what  
In 's more sweet and fair, myself then take;  
Unjust, why shouldst thou such a gift forsake?  
I'm not to be despised, no, for I  
Saw myself in the sea when it did lie  
Becalmed & free from waves, this my fierce, stern  
And sanguine look, these shoulders large, this arm  
So strong and nervous, this rough shaggy breast,  
These big-boned thighs of mine, and all my rest  
So well knit members, are a sign that I  
Am strong and lusty, if believest not, try;  
What wilt do with these tender fools, whose sleek  
Face, scarce allows them down upon their cheek?  
Women, in show, and Works they be, nor are  
Skilled in aught else, but to dispose each hair,  
In its due order; there's not one that dare  
Fellow thee through the woods, to hunt the Bear,  
Or, durst encounter wild Boars for thy sake.  
I'm not so ugly, no: nor dost forsake  
Me, 'cause I am thus formed, alas, but why?  
Because I'm poor, thou dost thy love deny.  
Alas, the Villages do follow now  
The custom of the Mighty Cities: how  
Well may the golden age this called be,  
Since gold alone Commands imperiously?  
O! thou, who first didst teach the way, to sell  
Divinest love, may torments, worse than hell,  
Still wait and tend upon thee; mayst thou die  
Unpitied let thy cold ashes lie  
Unburied; let Nymphs and Shepherds cease  
Passing to say, Soul, do thou rest in Peace;  
Let the rain wet thee, move thee may the wind;  
Let flocks and strangers too, be so unkind,  
As for to trample on thee, thou first shamed  
The Nobility of love, not to be named;  
Horrid and Monstrous, 'tis not to be told,  
How Love is made the Price of abject Gold.  
But, why in vain lament I? since I see,  
Beasts, for their safety, use those Arms, which be,  
Allotted them by Nature, Tigers paws  
Use for defence, Lions their teeth and claw's;  
The Stag does for her safety use to fly,  
A woman's weapon is her Beauty. Why?  
(Then since all these do use their natural arms  
To conquer foes, or save themselves from harms)  
Should not I when that nature has me made  
Apt for to ravish, make use of the trade?  
I'll force, I'll ravish what she me denies,  
Nor will be moved with her prayers nor cries.  
Not long ago I told was by a Swain,  
That in the fountain lies in yonder plain;  
She often baths herself, there I intent  
To hid me in the bushes, to the end  
That when she comes I may be sure to take  
Hold on her; what resistance can she make  
'Gainst me, poor tender soul? and for her cries,  
I'll neither them nor of her beauty prise  
The power. Oh if I can but once entwine,  
This hand within her locks, why then she's mine,  
Nor shall the gods release her, till that I  
For my revenge my arms in blood do die.    

Act. 2. Scen. 2.  Daphne and Thirsis. Daph. 
THirsis, as I thee told, I long since thought,  
Amintas did love Silvia, and have sought,  
God knows, all way's to further this his love,  
And shall the more, since thou art pleased to move  
Me in it: but I rather had by far  
Choose for to tame a lion, or fierce bear,  
Then such a simple girl, who does not know  
How piercing be her beauty's arms, and though  
She others kills, yet is herself still sound,  
And wounding others knows, not how to wound.  Thir. 
And where's that child so simple han't a mind,  
As soon as out of swaddling bands, to find  
Arts to seem handsome and to make her please?  
And how to kill with pleasing? and with ease  
Can tell what arms they be cause death? nay more,  
What arms they be which life again restore:  Daph. 
Who mistress is of so much art?  Thir. 
As though  
Thou knewst not Daphne, 'tis the same doth show  
Flight to the winged birds, and doth infuse  
Swimming to fishes, teaches Bulls to use  
Their horns, and makes Juno's proud bird to spread  
Her Argus-eye-deckt feathers o'er his head:  Daph. 
I'd very fain know how you call this same  
Mistress of arts?  Thir. 
Why Daphne is her name.  Daph. 
Out filthy liar that thou art.  Thir. 
why fool  
Art thou not able then to keep at school  
A thousand girls, although no need there is  
In this same Art of Love of Mistresses,  
For nature is their mistress, though, 'tis true,  
The mother and the nurse bear a share too.  Daph. 
Come, thou too knavish art, in sum I'll tell  
Thee that I am not yet resolved well,  
If Silvia be so simple as she feigns  
Herself to be; for down in yonder plains  
Where the clear waters of the silent lake  
Encircled round a pretty Island make,  
I t'other day saw Silvia counsel take,  
How she the golden tresses of her head  
In pretty curls might o'er her forehead spread,  
And then how she might fittest o'er them place  
Her snowwhite vail, o'er that with better grace  
Order some fragrant flowers, with lilies fair  
Her white neck she'd adorn; and so compare  
Which was the whitest, now a lovely rose,  
To her sweet cheeks to see which did disclose  
The liveliest hue; then with delight would she  
Smile, as 'twere boasting of the victory:  
Methought she seemed to say, I only do  
For your disgrace base flowers carry you,  
Not for my ornament, since all may see  
How much in beauty you must yield to me;  
But whilst she flatt'red thus herself, her eye  
By chance she turned, and turning did espy  
That I sat laughing in th'adjacent bowers,  
At which she blushed, and straight let fall her flowers;  
When laugh the more to see her blush did I,  
Which her cheeks tinged in a deeper die;  
But cause that only on one side her head  
Her hair was gathered, on the other spread;  
She fearful I should see again, poor soul,  
As 'twere from the clear fountain counsel stole,  
And though she were undressed, yet pleased was she  
That, so undressed, she looked so handsomely:  
I saw it and was silent.  Thir. 
Thou dost tell  
What I before told thee; guest I not well?  Daph. 
Well didst thou guess, but I have been told how  
Pastors and nymphs were not so sly as now  
In former times, nor young was I so bold:  
The world does grow more wicked, as more old.  Thir. 
'Tis true that then Citizens used not so  
Oft in the Country come, nor Rustics go  
Unto the City; now their crafty race  
As well as customs do with us take place;  
But to our purpose canst not thou procure,  
That the hardhearted Silvia may endure  
To hear Amintas speak alone, or't least  
In company with thee, which she'll think best.  Daph. 
I'll tell thee, Silvia now so coy doth grow  
That well how to obtain it I don't know.  Thir. 
Amintas too respectfully is nice.  Daph. 
True sayest thou Thirsis; there can no worse vice  
In lovers be; he that would learn the art  
Of divine love must lay respect apart,  
Must dare demand, solicit, importune;  
And if by these means he can't overcome,  
Must ravish too: Thirsis, thou know'st so well,  
That I am sure there's none need thee to tell,  
The nature of a woman, if she flies  
'Tis cause she'd be pursued; if she denies,  
Alas 'tis only cause that she would have  
Men to force that which first they did but crave,  
She fights to be o'ercome: laugh not at me  
That I speak thus in confidence to thee,  
And that I speak in rhymes, but thou know'st, Thirsis,  
I can for rhymes return thee more than verses.  Thir. 
Thou hast no reason to suspect that I  
Should e'er tell aught against thy modesty.  
But I conjure thee, Daphne, by the dear  
Remembrance of thy youth that thou wilt here  
Lend thy assistance with me for relief  
Of poor Amintas, who else dies with grief.  Daph. 
How neatly he conjures me, by the joy  
Of mine that's past, and by my present'noy?  
But what wilt have me do?  Thir. 
Judgement and skill  
I know thou hast, then only, that thou will.  Daph. 
In sum I'll tell thee then Silvi ' and I  
This day at Diane's well, which is hard by,  
Intent to wash, where an inviting shade  
For nymphs and shepherds by a beech is made;  
And there she'll naked bathe her tender waist.  Thir. 
What then?  Daph. 
What then! if thou hast wit thou mayst  
Guess at the rest.  Thir. 
I guess, but do not know  
Whether he'll have the heart to come or no.  Daph. 
If come he wo'ned, for aught that I can say,  
Stay until she looks after him he may.  Thir. 
He so deserves.  Daph. 
But, Thirsis, may not we  
(At leisure now) talk somewhat too of thee?  
Why dost not thou a sweetheart get? Alas  
thou'rt yet but young! and scarce dost four years pass  
Of the fifth lustre (and full well do I  
Know when these arms have danced thee lullaby)  
Why will't neglected live, and void of joy?  
Since without love there's no delight (my boy)  Thir. 
A man may shun fond love, and yet not fast  
From Venus' pleasures, he the sweet does taste  
Without the bitter.  Daph. 
Most unsavoury 'tis:  
The sweet's not seasoned with some bitterness  
Soon satiate.  Thir. 
Better once satisfied:  
Then before meat and after to abide  
Still hungry.  Daph. 
Thirsis, if the meat you have  
doth please; the more you taste, the more you crave  Thir. 
But who can always present have that food  
Which, though he's hungry, to his taste is good.  Daph. 
Who seeks no good shall find none.  Thir. 
There's no ease  
In seeking that, which found, 'tis true doth please;  
But if not found when sought torments us more.  
Thirsis will ne'er a lover be, before  
That cruel love shall leave its company  
Of sighs and tears, enough already I  
Have sighed and wept.  Daph. 
Enough enjoyed though  
Perhaps thou hast not.  Thir. 
Nor desire, if so  
Dear I must buy it.  Daph. 
Well if nothing move  
Thee can, at length thou wilt be forced to love:  Th. 
Love cannot force who's out of his command.  Dap. 
But who is't can out of love's empire stand?  Thir. 
Who fears his witching charms and flies away.  Daph. 
Where wilt thou fly if love his wings display?  Thir. 
But love when young has his wings short, and so  
Can't overtake the man will from him go.  Daph. 
The birth of love, there's no man can descry,  
And when descried, his wings grown great, he'll fly.  Thir. 
Some by experience his first birth can tell.  Dap. 
Thirsis, since thou pretendest to know so well  
That Art, we'll see if thou canst from him run,  
This I protest to thee, I'll not be won  
A hand, a foot, or eyebrow for to move,  
Either to help or aid thee in thy love.  Thir. 
Fie cruel one than couldst thou dead me see?  
If thou wilt have me love, why, love thou me.  Daph. 
Why dost thou mock me, Thirsis? perhaps thou  
Dost not deserve so fine a mistress; how  
Many a coloured and smooth face be guiles.  Thir. 
I do not mock thee; no, but thou meanwhiles  
With this pretext my love dost not accept;  
This is the common trick: but if reject  
My love thou dost, I without love will live.  Daph. 
Thirsis, mayst thou contently live and thrive,  
More than e'er yet thou didst, mayst live in ease  
And leisure, without which love ne'er doth please.  Thir. 
Daphne, this leisure god hath granted me,  
One who a god may here esteemed be;  
To whom on verdant plains and cliffy rocks,  
From sea to sea we feed our herds and flocks:  
Thirsis, said he, let others take a care,  
To chase the wolves, and thiefs, let others share  
Rewards unto the servants; others guard  
My wal'd-in sheep; thou (from these labours barred,)  
Shalt sing: then just it is my pipe should move,  
Not in fond fancies of a worldly love;  
But that in higher strains it only hollow  
The ancestors of my Jove, or Apollo.  
(For which of those to call him well, in troth,  
I know not, since he does resemble both)  
Progenitors of greater worth by far,  
Then or bright Saturn or the Heavens are;  
(Low Muse to such a merit,) but yet he,  
Sing I or clear or hoarse, rejects not me;  
His praise I dare not chant, nor well can I  
Worthily honour him, but silently,  
And with due reverence; but his altars ne'er  
Without my flowers or sweet perfumes yet were:  
And when I do forget him to adore,  
Or worship; then let Thirsis be no more:  
Let Rivers change their beds, the Soane advance  
To wash the Persian banks, the Tigris France.  Daph. 
High ho, thou'rt flown too high, prithee descend  
Unto our purpose.  Thir. 
Daphne, I intent,  
That thou shouldst as thou go'st along the way  
Endeavour for to soften Silvia;  
I'll procure that he come, this task of mine  
I doubt will harder be by far than thine,  
Then go thy ways:  Daph. 
I do, but I did mean  
By this talk part of which thou didst not dream;  Thir. 
If I can well discern him by the face,  
Aminta 'tis appears in yonder place.   

Act. 2. Scen. 3.  Aminta Thirsis. Amin. 
I'll see what Thirsis may have done for me,  
In what to do he promised; but if he  
Have nothing done, why then, before that I  
Will be consumed to nothing, I will die  
Before the rigid Silvia; that abate  
My death, may somewhat of her cruel hate,  
She (that so pleased is with that plague, the Dart  
Of her fair eye's has gi'n my lovesick heart)  
Will with that wound which my breast shall endure  
From mine own hands be doubly pleased I'm sure.  Thir. 
I news of comfort bring thee, and content,  
Then dear Aminta, cease thus to lament.  Amin. 
What sayest thou Thirsis, must I live or die?  Thir. 
I bring thee life and safety, for if I  
The other had, I'd not it bring, but need  
There is of courage, man, and that with speed?  Amin. 
What need is there of courage, pray. and where  
Must I employ it?  Thir. 
If thy Silvia were  
Within a wood, encompassed round with rocks,  
Where lions and fierce Tigers by whole flocks  
Did range, no way to scape by strength or art,  
To go to rescue her, wouldst have the heart?  Amin. 
More joyful far then on a holy day,  
A Country wench doth run to dance or play.  Thir. 
If she 'mongst murderers were, I fain would know,  
Whether thou darest unto her rescue go.  Amin. 
I'd go more readier than the Stag does fly  
To the long-wished-for fountain, when he's dry.  Thir. 
But greater proofs more courage do require.  Amin. 
I would for Silvia's sake pass through the fire,  
Or through the floods, when down the Mountains throw,  
With a full torrent, their dissolved snow;  
I'd go to hell itself, if hell could be,  
Where there is one so fair so good as she;  
But tell me pray, where is't?  Thir. 
Hark then.  Amin. 
Go on.  Thir. 
Silvia attends thee naked and alone,  
At that same fountain called Diana's well;  
Darest thou to go.  Amin. 
Alas! what dost thou tell  
Me, Thirsis? naked and alone does she  
Stay for me, sayest thou?  Thir. 
Unless Daphne be  
There (who of our side is) alone I say.  Amin. 
But naked prithee does she for me stay?  Thir. 
I say she there stays naked for thee, but-  Amin. 
But what? thou kill'st me if that word thou put.  Thir. 
But I can't tell if thou hadst best to go.  Amin. 
Oh hard conclusion! which all the forego-  
Ing sweetness doth embitter: with what art  
Dost strive to wound my almost bloodless heart?  
Is't not enough that thus unhappy I  
Am, but thou wilt increase my misery?  Thir. 
Aminta, if thou wilt my counsel take,  
Thou mayst be happy:  Amin. 
What, for the gods sake,  
Dost thou advise me;  Thir. 
What! That thou be bold,  
And on what fortune thee presents lay hold.  Amin. 
The gods I hope will keep me that I may  
ne'er think a thought to displease Silvia:  
I ne'er displeased her yet, but by my love,  
Nor was't my fault, her beauty's power did move  
Me to't: but let me when I cease to strive  
Silvia to please, no longer care to live.  
Answer me now, If in thy Power it were  
To leave her love, wouldst do't to ple azure her  
Love lets me not say so, nay it does deny  
That I should think to leave her love, though I  
Can do't.  Thir. 
Why then though leave her? love thou couldst;  
Yet, in despite of her, love her thou wouldst.  Amin. 
Not in despite, but yet I'd love her still.  Thir. 
Why then thou love her wouldst against her will.  Amin. 
Yes, certainly I should.  Thir. 
Then darest thou not  
Against her will (fool as thou art) take what  
At first may hard and heavy seem, once past  
Sweeter and sweeter grows unto the last.  Amin. 
Thirsis, love for me answers, and my heart  
Knows its own means, but cannot them impart,  
Thee constant use has skilled in loves great Art,  
But that has bound my tongue which bond my heart.  Thir. 
Why then we will not go.  Amin. 
Yes go will I:  
But not where thou dost deem.  Thir. 
Whither?  Amin. 
To die;  
To die alas I'll go, if this be all  
The favour thou hast done me.  Thir. 
Thinkest it small?  
Thinkest Daphne counsel would to go, if find  
In part she did not that 'twas Silvia's mind?  
And who can tell, it may be Silvia too  
Knows it herself, but would not have that you  
Should know she knows it; now, if thou dost crave  
Her full consent, thou dost desire to have  
What would displease her most, and then (fool) where  
Is that desire of thine to pleasure her?  
Or if she would that thy enjoyment were  
Thy theft, and not her gift, what needest thou care?  Amin. 
But who assures me such is her desire?  Thir. 
Why see? thou dost that certainty require,  
Which does and ought displease her, and which thou  
Oughtest not to seek: but pray imagine now  
That such were her desire, and thou not go,  
Equal the doubt is, the loss equal; so,  
I think it better that courageously  
Thou like a man, than like a coward, die  
Art silent? thou'rt o'ercome, confess I pray  
This love Aminta; it occasion may  
Thy greater victory; let's go then.  Amin. 
I pray.  Thir. 
What, stay! seest not how fast the time does run?  Amin. 
Pray let us think first w ht is to be done.  Thir. 
We by the way will think the rest, but who  
Does too much think things, seldom well doth do.   

CHORUS.  

LOve, who can teach us thy mysterious art?  
Who thy divinest fancies can impart?  
Where may we learn them? who can them display?  
Since (though the mind them comprehend) away?  
Armed with thy winged prowess, they soar above,  
Not learned Athens ere the art of love  
Can teach, nor its Liceo could it show,  
Phoebus in Helicon thy art ne'er knew;  
He could discourse of love, 'tis true, but so,  
As if he did thy art but blindly know,  
Or were a learner, cold were his desires,  
Nor did his voice burn with celestial fires,  
As sits thy power, nor could his thoughts arise  
To comprehend thy sacred mysteries;  
Thou only, Love, a worthy master art,  
In thy sublime, and more than heavenly art;  
To rustic breasts thou makest known those Divine  
And most Celestial Characters of thine,  
Writ by thine own hand in another's eye,  
Thy faithful servants tongues thou dost untie:  
And makest them glide in pure and nobler streams,  
Then ever issued from Poetic veins;  
By thee divinest love there's more expressed  
In broken words and speeches, than the best  
Of Orators can do, and more doth move  
Thy silence, than their Rhetoric, to love:  
Heart-conquering Love to others, leave will I  
To learn thy art in blind philosophy,  
Or from the learned schools: I only will  
In fair eye's study this mysterious skill;  
And their high styles and Poetry will less,  
Then shall my rough or rustic times, express:     

Act. 3  

Scen. 1.  Thirsis Chorus of Shepherds. 

O Horrid cruelty! unheard! unseen!  
Or ever yet remembered to have been  
In humane breast; three hundred times, nay four  
Ingrateful sex; thou nymph ingrateful more.  
Why didst thou, Nature, show thy utmost art,  
Thus in adorning woman's outward part?  
Why didst her beauteous countenance endue  
With such a sunlike soul-bewitching hue?  
And didst afford to grace her mind within  
Nothing but falseness, cruelty, and sin.  
Negligent Mistress! But ay me, my dear  
Aminta will have slain himself, I fear;  
'Tis full three hours that round about the ground,  
Where I him left I sought him, but have found  
Nor him, nor yet his footsteps, 'tis too plain  
I clearly see that he himself hath slain;  
But stay, perhaps those shepherds yonder be  
May tell me news of him, friends did you see  
Aminta or hear of him?   Chor. 
Thou dost show  
So troubled; that the cause we fain would know  
Of this thy grief; from whence proceeds this sweat?  
This sorrow; tell us if thou thinkest it meet.  Thir. 
I fear Aminta's ill, did you him see?  Chor. 
No him we have not seen, since that from thee  
Long since he parted; but pray tell us plain  
What dost thou fear?  Thir. 
Lest he himself have slain.  Chor. 
That he has slain himself! but what could move  
Him such an act to do?  Thir. 
Hatred and love.  Chor. 
Who two such potent enemies don't fear?  
What can't they do? but tell us pray more clear.  Thir. 
His great love of a nymph, and her no small  
Hatred of him.  Chor. 
Nay prithee tell us all;  
This is a place of passage, and whilst you  
Relate it, news may brought be; perhaps too  
Himself may come meanwhile.  Thir. 
I willingly  
Recount it will, that the just infamy  
Of such a strange ingratitude may rest  
Upon that cruel and remorseless breast;  
Aminta told was (I alas was he  
That told it him and he was led by me,  
Now I repent me) that his Silvia dear  
This day with Daphne in a fountain clear  
Would bathe her naked limbs, he thither went  
Not moved by his desire, but to content  
My importunities: oft back have gone  
He would; but that I still did thrust him on;  
Now when we come were to the fountain nigh;  
We thought we heard a woman's woeful cry,  
And not far off we Daphne saw, her eye's  
Swollen with tears, when she saw us, her cries  
Did pierce the heavens, run and make haste, said she,  
Silvia is forced. Amintas presently,  
Not staying to hear more, flew away so  
Swift as I never yet saw swifter Do:  
I followed him; when, lo, we straightway see  
The beauteous Silvia tied unto a tree;  
The rope to tie her was her brightest hair,  
Which in a thousand knots entangled were  
About the plant; that girdle used to be  
The former warder of her chastity,  
Was used now to her rape, and served to bind  
Unto the tree her snowwhite hands behind.  
The very plant itself did condescend  
To this foul act, and seemed as 'twere to lend  
It's full assistance to the rape; for round  
About her legs two pliant twigs were bound;  
Just before her a cruel Satire stood,  
With looks denoting villainy and blood,  
Who finished had to bind her; she poor heart  
Did strive with all her force and all her art,  
But what (alas!) could all her force or skill  
Prevail 'gainst him who had such strength at will;  
Aminta with his sharp wel-brandished dart  
Aimed at, but mist, the cursed Satyrs heart;  
I gathered up what stones I could, but he  
Seeing us two, thought it was best to flee:  
We him pursued, Aminta as his flight  
Gave leave, turned back his eye's to have the sight  
Of her fair members, which more soft by far  
Seemed than Swans down, and whiter much than are  
The snow-decked Alps, but when we had in vain  
Pursued the rogue, he turning back again  
Accosts her thus, Pardon, O Silvia fair,  
These hands of mine, which with such boldness dare  
Approach thy members, for they're forced to lose  
These knots which ministered to thy abuse;  
Then since that fortune has been pleased to send  
Them such a bliss, let it not thee offend.  Chor. 
Words that would mollify a heart of stone!  
What answer did she give him then?  Thir. 
Why none:  
But looking down disdainfully, she tried,  
All that she could, her fairest breasts to hid;  
He from the tree gins her hair to lose;  
And thus he seemed to say, Durst thou abuse  
These golden curls, base plant? which do to thee  
So great an honour, ah, unworthy be  
Thy branches of such knots; what vantage pray  
Can we poor Lovers boast of? Since trees may  
Enjoy those comforts which we want, entwine  
By force those locks which bless these hands of mine  
By their bare touch; this done he from behind  
Unties the knot, and does her hands unbind;  
In manner so as if he seemed to fear  
Their touch, and yet to touch could not forbear;  
Then stoops that he might lose her feet, but she  
Finding her hands were now at liberty,  
Looks on him scornfully, says touch not, I  
Am Diane's nymph. I can my feet untie  Chor. 
Can so much pride reign in so fair a heart?  
O for so good an act ingrateful part!,  Thir. 
He did respectfully himself retire  
Not looking on her, though he did desire,  
Denied himself that pleasure, which on trial  
He feared would give her trouble of denial;  
I heard and saw all this, and hid did lie,  
And though about to check her cruelty;  
Yet I withheld: but hear the most unkind  
Part of all yet; she did at length unbind  
Herself, scarce lose, nor bidding him adieu,  
Faster than fleetest Stag away she flew;  
And yet to fear I'm sure she cause had none,  
For his respect to her was full well known.  Chor. 
Why did she fly then?  Thir. 
She would of her rape  
The rescue attribute to her escape,  
Not to his modest love.  Chor. 
Ingrateful too  
In this! but what said he? what did he do?  Thir. 
I know not, I vexed at her rigour, ran  
To overtake and hold her but in vain;  
For soon I lost her tract, then turning, where  
I left Aminta, could not find him there;  
My heart presages ill, for this I'm sure  
He'd rather die than this sad chance endure:  Cho. 
The custom 'tis (we know) of those that are  
In love, to threaten death, but very rare  
Are those effect it.  Thir. 
But pray god that he  
One of those rare ones be not:  Cho. 
He won't be  
So foolish, fear not.  Thir. 
I'll go to the cave  
Of sage Elpino, where I sure shall have  
News of him if he lives, for that's his haunt;  
There on his oaten pipe he used to chant  
Sweet songs, and there lament him of his love,  
And make the very rocks and mountains move;  
The Rivers stop their course to hear his lays,  
The trees incline, and wild beasts leave their preys.   

Act. 3. Scen. 2.  Amintas Daphne Nerina. Amin. 
Pitiless pity Daphne sure was thine,  
When thou withheldst this hand, this dart of mine;  
That so my death being delayed by fate  
Might be more bitter by how much more late;  
And why dost trace me thus? or thinkest to force  
Hope into me by this thy vain discourse:  
What dost thou fear? that I myself should slay,  
Thou fearest my good; then prithee go away;  Daph. 
Despair not thus Aminta, for if I  
Know Silvia well, 'twas shame that made her fly,  
Not cruelty.  Amin. 
Alas! there is for me  
No way but to despair, since hope will be  
As't has been yet my ruin, still I find  
It strives as 'twere to blossom in my mind;  
And whispers to me live, and can aught be  
Worse than a life, to such a wretch as me?  Daph. 
Live wretch, live still I say, and let this be  
Support unto thee in thy misery;  
That if thy hope in life do but maintain thee,  
At length thar naked fair one it will gain thee.  Amin. 
Both love and fortune, though that at the brink  
Of wretchedness I was, yet did not think  
Me yet forlorn enough, until that I  
Had fully seen what fully both deny.  Ner. 
Must I then always have the luck to be  
The messenger of such sad news? ay me!  
Wretched Mantano! what sad heart will thine  
Be when thou comest to hear this news of mine?  
O sad and desolate father thou, nay rather,  
By loss of thy dear Silvia, no more Father!  Daph. 
I a sad voice do hear.  Amin. 
And I hear sound  
The name of Silvia, which my heart does wound,  
Who is it names her?  Daph. 
it seems at first sight  
To be Nerina, Cynthia's chief delight,  
Who has so sweet comportment, so fair face,  
Such charming eye's, such a bewitching Grace.  Ner. 
And yet alas, I'm forced to let him know  
Of this most fatal chance of thine, that so  
He may seek those unhappy bones, if no  
More rests of thee; oh! my dear Silvia, oh!  Amin. 
Ay me, what says she!  Ner. 
Daphne,  Daph. 
what, and why  
Dost to thyself name Silvia, and then cry.  Ner. 
Alas! with reason I lament her sad  
And cruel fate;  Amin. 
What fate can be so bad  
To make thee thus lament? Ay me, I feel  
My heart a dying, as though pierced with steel,  
Is she alive?  Daph. 
Prithee to us relate  
What thus thou mutter'st of her  fate.  Ner. 
Ye Gods! why am I messenger? yet I  
Must tell't: did she, you know the reason why  
Come e'en now naked to my Lodge, and there  
Re-cloathed herself again; she by her prayer  
Prevailed with me, that I would with her go  
In Eliceto for to hunt a Do.  
I pleased her, and we went when, near the ground,  
Gathered together many Nymphs we found;  
Scarce had we spoke to them, when lo we see  
A mighty wolf start from behind a tree,  
Great out of measure was he, and with blood  
His nose was died, he fiercely looking stood;  
Silvia straight to her bow an arrow fits,  
And she ne'er used to miss; so now she hits  
Him just upon the head, he fly's again  
Into the wood, she follows him amain:  Amin. 
O sad beginning, which does pierce my heart!  
What end wilt have?  Ner. 
I with another dart  
Followed her tract, but at great distance, since  
She was i'th' wood ere I could move me thence,  
Yet I her footsteps made a shift to trace,  
Until I came to the most desert place  
Of all the wood, where, lo, by chance I found  
My dearest Silvia's dart upon the ground,  
And not far off from it I did espy  
That snowwhite veil, which I myself did tie  
Upon her head, which as you see is died  
With crimson gore, and looking round I spied  
Seven fierce wolves, which seemed to lick the blood  
Of a naked body, about which they stood,  
Such was my hap, and so intent they were  
Upon their prey, they saw not I was there;  
So I returned, and this is the full tale  
I tell of Silvia can, see here the veil.  Amin. 
thoust told too much, this veil, and this blood be  
Sure tokens of her death.  Daf. 
Ah poor wretch! he  
Is dead with grief too.  Ner. 
No, he breathes, revives,  
'Tis but a sudden fainting, see he lives.  Amin. 
Grief, why? (alas!) dost thou torment me so,  
And dost not kill outright? if thou too slow  
Be'st, or wouldst have my hand the instrument  
To do't, to this I'm very well content;  
And it shall execute that death which thou  
Refusest, or to do, or knowst not how;  
Then since the certainty of this we know,  
And nothing wants now to augment my woe;  
Why should I longer stay? oh Daphne! why  
Didst not permit me, when I would, to die?  
To this sad end reserv'dst thou me? to this!  
Sure sweet my death had been, nay more a bliss,  
And greatest happiness, had but that dart,  
Which cruel thou withheldest, pierced my heart.  
But heavens denied it, and did fear lest that  
I by my sudden death forerun should, what  
They had ordained me, now my utmost ill  
They executed have, permit they will  
To make the full sum of their cruelty:  
And thou permi too must) that I may die.  Daph. 
Restrain this frantic humour of thy youth,  
Until we do hear further of the truth.  Amin. 
Why dost thou strive to keep me off with such  
Delay's? I've stayed too long, and heard too much.  Ner. 
I would I had been dumb.  Amin. 
Nymph, pray bestow  
On me that blood-bespotted Veil; that so  
Small, but whole relic of my Silvia;  
That since no more there rests of her, it may  
Witness my death, and if there aught can be  
To do't may serve t' augment my misery;  
Though, I confess, 'tis not so small that I  
Need to increase it, to persuade me die.  Ner. 
Had I best give't him, or deny't him? I  
Think for th' occasion I were best deny.  Amin. 
What cruel one! so small a gift to me,  
Who am resolved ne'er to ask more of thee?  
In this too wretched fate, I yield with you,  
Then let the Veil remain, and so adieu;  
I go to turn no more.  Daph. 
Aminta, stay,  
Gods! with what fury does he fly away?  Ner. 
He flies so fast, that it will be in vain  
To follow him, I down in yonder plain  
Will seek Montano, but I do not know  
If I were best to tell the news or no.   

CHORUS.  

THere is no cause, which death may move  
To bind him, has a noble heart;  
His faith's enough first, than his love,  
Nor is so hard of love the art.  
By him alone that loves well, love is sought,  
And like a Merchandise by love is bought;  
And seeking love we often find  
A Glory, which we leave behind.     

Act. 4.  

Scene: 1.  Daphne, Silvia and Chore of Shepherds. Daph. 
THat wind that brought the sad news of thy death,  
Brought with it likewise in the self same breath  
Thy present and thy future ill, but thou  
(Thanks be to God) art live and well, when now  
I deemed thee dead; Nerina with such grief  
It told: had she been dumb, or others deaf.  Sil. 
The danger sure was great, and she indeed  
Had just occasion to suspect me dead.  Daph. 
A just occasion for to tell it, though,  
She had not, but let me thy danger know,  
And how thou scap'dst.  Sil. 
I'll tell thee, I, in chase  
Of a fierce wolf, unto the thickest place  
Came of the wood, so that I quite the tract  
Did of his footsteps lose, but turning back  
Again, I spied him; by my shaft I knew  
That 'twas the same wolf first before me flew.  
He with some others feeding was amain,  
On a dead carcase they had newly slain;  
Of what I could not well discern, but he  
Leaving his prey came running after me.  
I stood him; with intent to make him feel,  
My dart than arrow was the sharper steel;  
And thou know'st well I'm mistress of the art,  
Of brandishing and lancing well a dart;  
I seldom use to miss, and so, when nigh  
Enough I thought him, I my dart let fly,  
But was it fault of fortune, or of me,  
I missed the wolf, and stuck it in a tree:  
The Wolf more fiercely at me runs, and I,  
Seeing 'twas vain to use my bow, did fly:  
He follows me, (now hear a chance,) my vail  
Happed to untie, and with the murmuring gale  
Came through the woods, blew up and down, at last  
A bot a bough tangled itself so fast,  
That though my force redoubled was, my strength  
Can not prevail a rescue, but at length,  
Seeing no way to'scape, I thought it best  
Quite to untie it, and there ●et it rest;  
Which done, I ran again with all my might,  
Fear adding thousand wings unto my flight,  
That he ne'er joined me, and I came out safe  
Unto my lodge, where first of all I have  
Encountered thee, and wondered much to see  
Thee stand amazed, and wondering so at me.  Daph. 
Thou liv'st, alas! but others not.  Sil. 
dothed grieve  
Thee Daphne then that I am still alive?  
Hat'st thou me so?  Daph. 
no Silvia, I'm full glad  
Thou liv'st, another's death 'tis makes me sad.  Sil. 
Whose death?  Daph. 
Aminta's.  Sil. 
Is he dead, and how?  Daph. 
Well how I cannot tell, nor do I know  
If it be certain.  Sil. 
Strange! but canst divine  
What was the occasion of his death?  Daph. 
why? thine.  Sil. 
I understand thee not.  Daph. 
The tidings sad  
Brought of thy wretched death, such power had  
O'er him, poor foul, and o'er his wearied life,  
That I believe 'thas brought him cord or knife.  Sil. 
I hope that vain will this suspect of thine  
Be of his death, as vain was that of mine;  
For when men come to the effect, they strive  
(Let them boast what they will before) to live.  Daph. 
Silvia, thou knowst not what the fire of love  
Can in a heart that's not of marble move,  
But thine's more hard than stone, else thou believe  
Wouldst him, for whom thou yet seem'st not to grieve;  
And wouldst have loved him who far more did prise  
Thy love, than the dear apples of her eye's.  
I well believed him, knew, and saw't, when he  
Having unloosed the (Tigress) from the tree,  
An act that would have forced thee him to love,  
Hadst had a heart; but what is't thee can move?  
I say I saw him there reverse his dart  
And with his full force strive to pierce his heart;  
Nor did repent him, though at first he died  
It in his crimson gore; but once more tried  
To make it enter farther, and he sure  
Had pierced his heart, but I could not endure  
To see't, so stayed him; yet believe the rage  
Of that small wound did not at all assuage  
His  constancy, but only made  
A freer passage for his thirsty blade.  Sil. 
What dost thou tell?  Daph. 
I saw him too when he  
First understood news of the death of thee  
To swoon for grief; revived, he fled away  
In fury with intent himself to slay:  
And he'll have done it surely.  Sil. 
Thinkest thou so.  Daph. 
I cannot doubt it.  Sil. 
Oh my Daphne, oh  
Why followedst not to hinder him, with me  
Come now and seek to find him; for if he,  
Thinking me dead, resolved himself to kill,  
Sure now I live, remain in life he will.  Daph. 
I followed him, and sought him, but in vain,  
For when he once got out of sight, again  
I could not find him, nor his footsteps; thou  
Then whither, prithee, wilt go seek him now?  Sil. 
Alas let's go however, for if we  
Don't stay him, he will his own murderer be.  Daph. 
Perhaps it grieves thee then that any one  
Should boast of killing him, but thee alone;  
Or cruel one dost think it scorn, his heart  
Should wounded be by any, but thy dart?  
Content thyself, how e'er he dies, yet he  
Dies for thy sake, thou wilt his murderer be.  Sil. 
Ay me! thy comfort's harsh, but now I find  
That grief of heart, which oversways my mind;  
For his sad chance embittered is the more,  
By how much I was rigorous before,  
And the remembrance of my cruelty  
Torments me now, I called it honesty,  
And so it was, but too severe by far,  
Too cruel since it did all pity bar;  
Now I repent me.  Daph. 
Strange! what do I hear?  
Pitiful thou? what can thy flint heart bear  
The least impress'on? weep'st thou? what can move  
These tears? are they of pity or of love?  Sil. 
They tears of love not, but of pity, are.  Daph. 
Pity to love is always messenger,  
As lightning to the thunder.  Chor. 
Oft when rest  
He hidden seeks within a virgin's breast,  
Who had with too strict honesty before,  
Against his sly charms shut and barred the door:  
He of mild pity his fond servant takes  
The shape and habit, and so entrance makes.  Daph. 
Silvia, these tears of love be, 'tis too plain  
Art silent? dost thou love? thou lov'st in vain:  
O divine force of love! how justly thou  
Chastisest those who done't thy power avow!  
Wretched Aminta! like the Bee who leaves  
Sorrow to him he stings, but yet bereaves  
Himself of life: so now thou victor art,  
And dying wounded hast that stony heart  
Which living thou ne'er couldst, and if thou be  
A wand'ring spirit, as I believe, then see  
Her tears, and though to thee all joy be past,  
Rejoice that thou hast overcome at last.  
Lover in life, beloved in death; if thy  
Eat 'twere not to be loved till thou didst die,  
Or if this cruel one at no less price  
Would sell her love, then to him for it dies;  
See thou hast given her the price she sought,  
And with thy early death, her love hast bought.  Chor. 
Dear price to him that gave it, but more griev-  
Ous far (alas) to her did it receive.  Sil. 
Can I but with my love his life regain,  
Or with my life call him from death again!  Daph. 
Ah pitiful too late! and too late wise,  
Pity assists not where fate help denies.   

Act. 4. Scen. 2.  Ergasto Chore of Shepherds Silvia Daphne. Erg. 
SO full my breast of pity is, and so  
Clogged up with horror, that I do not know  
Wither to turn me, nothing comes to sight,  
Nothing I hear, which doth not me affright.  Chor. 
What news brings our Ergasto? sure 'tis bad,  
His countenance and accent both are sad.  Erg. 
I bring the sad news of Aminta's death:  Sil. 
Ay me!  Erg. 
The noblest shepherd that did breath  
Within these woods; whose sweet comportments were  
Unto the nymphs, and muses both, so dear.  Chor. 
And is he dead? and how? relate that we  
May his untimely end lament with thee.  Sil. 
I dare not listen to this sad discourse,  
Nor yet go near to hear it, though of force  
Hear it I must, wicked relentless heart  
Of mine, what fearest thou? go receive that dart  
Which he brings in his tongue; that so thereby  
May be made known thy heartless cruelty.  
Shepherd I come a partner here to be  
Of that grief, which thou promist's others, me  
Perhaps it more concerns, and as a due  
Debt of my rigour I received from you.  Erg. 
Nymph, I believe thee well; for at his death  
He with thy name gave up his latest breath.  Daph. 
Now begin this sad story.  Erg. 
I surround  
The Mount did with some nets, spread on the ground,  
When, lo, Amintas passed by, and he  
Was too much changed from what he used to be,  
Too troubled, and too sad; I ran and stayed  
Him, though with much ado; he to me said:  
Ergasto I'd entreat a courtesy  
Of thee, 'tis this, to come along with me,  
And be a witness of what I shall do,  
But this I shall require first of you,  
That by straight oath your firmest faith you bind,  
Neither to hinder nor oppose my mind;  
I (for who could have thought so strange a case,  
Or such mad fury?) let his will take place  
And did conjure, Pan, Pales, Priapus,  
And all those gods are honoured most by us;  
He at my oaths went forward, and me led  
There where the cliffy rock hangs o'er its head:  
Road it was none, for there no path at all,  
But from the mount, a precipice doth fall  
Into th'adjacent valley; here a stop  
We made, when I with looking from the top,  
Such was the height, so level to the ground,  
That with a giddiness my head turned round;  
I started back, he smiled to see me start,  
Which too much did assure my fearless heart:  
Then to me said, Ergasto, I'd have thee  
Recount to Nymphs and Pastors what thou'lt see,  
So looking down began— 
Had I here ready to my will,  
The teeth of ravenous wolves to spill  
My blood, I'd only choose that death,  
By which she died who was my breath:  
They tear this body should of mine,  
As they did that fair corpse of thine;  
But since that heaven is so unjust  
As to deny, (though die I must)  
My death desired, nor will send  
Fierce beasts to help me to my end;  
I'll find a death though not the due,  
Shall end my life as soon as you.  
Silvia I come, I come to thee,  
Disdain not then my company;  
Contentedly I shall endure  
The sharpest death, were I but sure  
IT would not again begin our strife,  
Thy anger ceased were with thy life.   Silvia 
I come, this said: he in a trice  
Threw himself down; I frozen stood like Ice.  Daph. 
Wretched Aminta!  Sil. 
Ay poor me!  Chor. 
But why  
Some way to hinder him didst thou not try?  
Perhaps thy promised oath did thee restrain.  Erg. 
No; for, rejecting oaths in that case vain,  
When I discerned his purpose, though too late,  
I ran to stay him; such was his hard fate,  
I only caught this silken girdle here,  
But he went with such force it could not bear  
His body's weight, and so it did remain  
Thus broken in my hands.  Chor. 
But what became  
Of the unhappy corpse?  Erg. 
That know not I,  
I had not heart enough to see it lie:  
(Pity and horror having filled the place)  
So shattered into pieces.  Chor. 
O strange case!  Sil. 
If this news kill's not me, my heart's of stone,  
Or rather I believe that I have none;  
Shall the false rumour of my death have such  
Power o'er his life, whom I did hate so much?  
And shall not his true death, who life did leave  
For love of me, me of my life bereave?  
It shall: and if that grief can't do't, a knife,  
Or else this girdle shall command my life;  
This girdle left behind, alone to be  
The just revenger of my cruelty;  
Unhappy girdle of a Master far  
Unhappier, disdain not that you are  
Lodged in this justly to thee hateful breast,  
Since there thou as an instrument dost rest  
Of that revenge, which is in justice due  
To your so hapless Master, and to you;  
For since 'twas by my cruelty denied  
Aminta should my consort here abide,  
'Tis just I should by work of thine be made  
His consort, in the sweet Elysian shade.  Chor. 
Comfort thyself poor wretch, thou fault hast none  
In this, but fault of fortune 'tis alone.  Sil. 
Shepherds, weep not for me, your tears you lose,  
Those pity don't deserve, who none did use,  
Or if ye weep, his loss ye weep in vain,  
Since that deserves a far more doleful strain;  
And thou too, Daphne, dry those tears of thine,  
If from no other cause they come than mine;  
This said entreat thee do, not for my sake,  
But for his worthy was, the pains to take,  
To go with me to see those wretched bones,  
I fear me, crushed among the rocks and stones,  
And help to bury them, and when that I  
Have performed this, what should I do but die?  
This office I'll repay him, since no more,  
I can, for that great love which he me bore;  
And though these hands of mine contaminate  
Will this good work: yet since pernicious fate  
Permits me only to do this; I know  
It will be dear to him, he loved me so.  Daph. 
Who would their help to such a work deny?  
But afterwards thou must not think to die.  Sil. 
Till now I lived, have to myself alone,  
And to my cruelty, what rests, to none  
I'll live but to Aminta: and if fade,  
My hopes do there, I'll live to his cold shade,  
So long I'll live, till in one point can I  
Finish his saddest obsequies, and die;  
Shepherd direct me, that I may not fail  
To find the way which leads unto the vale;  
Where ends that cursed precipice.  Erg. 
You are  
Just in the way, nor is it very far.  Daph. 
Come, I'll go with thee, thou my footsteps trace,  
And I'll thee lead directly to the place.  Sil. 
Then Shepherds, Nymphs, Meadows, and Plains adieu;  
Woods, Rivers, Fountains, all farewell to you.  Erg. 
Alas! she takes her leave with sighs so sore,  
As if she were resolved to turn no more.   

CHORUS.  

WHat death must yield, that love retains,  
Thou peace's friend, he war's unkind,  
Ever his triumphs, vaunts and reigns;  
And whilst thoudo'st twofair souls bind;  
Thou rendr'st earth so like the heavenly sphere,  
That thou thyself deign'st to inhabit here;  
There is no anger there above  
And thou hast mortal breasts inclined  
By thy divinest art of love;  
To put all hatred out of mind;  
And with a power exceeding earthly Kings  
Thou here below dost govern mortal things.     

Act. 5.  

Scen. 1.  Elpine Chorus of Shepherds. Elp. 
IN truth, the divine law by which love sway's  
His sacred Empire is not hard nor stray's  
In obliqne paths, sage providence the guide  
Is of his works, and all his actions glide  
In deepest mysteries, see by what art  
By what strange uncouth means he leads a heart  
To happiness! and when man thinks that he  
Is now arrived at th' depth of misery  
And wretchedness, why then the winged boy  
Transports him to the paradise of joy:  
Behold Aminta, by his fall ascends  
To his long wished-for, and desired ends;  
Happy Aminta, happy so much more,  
By how much more mis'rable thou before;  
By thy example why should I despair,  
But rather hope that cruel one, though fair,  
Who under smiles of pity doth conceal  
Her mortal rigour, now at length may heal  
My wounded heart, and may true pity have  
To cure that wound, her feigned pity gave.  Chor. 
see how the sage Elpino yonder walks,  
And to himself of poor Aminta talks,  
As though he living were; he fortunate  
And happy calls him, O the sad estate  
Of lovers! is his judgement so misled,  
To call those happy, who find pity dead?  
Is this the paradise of joy? is this  
His wished contentment, his desired bliss?  
Is this the great reward, the greatest ease  
Love gives his servants? can this so much please?  
Can this suffice? Elpino, is so bad,  
Thy luck, that thou stillest sprtunate the sad  
Death of Aminta? such an end dost crave?  Elp. 
No Shepherds, no; but let your sorrows have  
An end; false the report is, he was dead.  Chor. 
O! how much comfort hath this good news bred?  
Did he not then himself precipitate?  Elp. 
He did, but his more than thrice blessed fate  
Under deaths doleful image did him give  
Both life and joy: shepherds, he still doth live,  
And lives content; for now his head doth rest  
On his dear Nymphs so much desired breast;  
She whom before, nor tears, nor sighs could move  
To pity him, is now as full of love,  
Is now as merciful; and from his eye's  
With her own mouth his tears of joy she dries.  
I go to seek her father, old Montane,  
And to conduct him unto yonder plain  
Where they two be, for nothing to the fill  
Of their content there wants, but his good will.  Chor. 
Equal their birth is, equal are their years  
Their wills agree, and good Montane, who bears  
Desires to have nephews, and to fence,  
His drooping age with such a sweet defence,  
Will make his will be theirs; but dear Elpine  
Relate to us what fate, what god divine  
Can of our poor Aminta such care have  
As might in that same  fall him save.  Elp. 
I am content to tell it, and no man  
I'm sure can tell it better than I can.  
Just at the entrance of my cave stood I,  
Which you know well at the hills foot doth lie;  
I reasoning was of her, who in a net  
First Thirsis caught, and after me, and yet  
I did my thraldom far prefer above  
His life of freedom, or his flight from love,  
When a strange voice our ears and eye's did call  
Up to the top, from whence to see one fall,  
And see him on a bush of briers light,  
Which stood in the midway, was all one sight;  
Nature had planted on the mountain's side  
A set of thorns, so thick, that they seemed tied,  
Or wove together, here at first he fell,  
Which, though 'twas like a net, yet could not well  
His body's weight sustain, but let him go  
Quite through, that at our feet he fell; yet so  
Much of the force and shock it took away,  
That 'twas not mortal, only there he lay  
Astonished, and void of sense. Amazed  
We at the sad chance stood, but when we gazed  
More nearly on, and knew him, than our trouble,  
Our sorrow, and our anguish did redouble;  
But to our grief it was some small repreive  
That he was not quite dead, perhaps might live;  
Then Thirsis t' me the secrets did discover  
Of this disconsolate and  lover  
We knowing 'twas in vain him to lament  
Bethought a remedy; and while we sent  
For learned Esculapius, whom Apollo  
Taught, Physics art when he him used to follow:  
At the same time he did on me bestow  
The skill to tune a harp, and bend a bow.  
Silvia and Daphne thither seeking came  
That body which they did believe was slain;  
When Silvia saw Aminta's cheeks once fair  
Now void of life, now grown so pallid were,  
So wan that the bleak violet displays  
Not half that paleness scorched by Phoebus' rays:  
She stupefied near void of sense doth rest  
Lamenting, crying, beating her fair breast  
She on him falls, to take her latest kiss,  
And joined his face to hers, her mouth to his.  Chor. 
Can she that was so coy, now not restrain  
Her passion but extend the bounds of shame.  Elp. 
Weak love is held by shame, but love grows bold  
As strong, what is it then can it withhold:  
She as though in her eye's she did contain  
Fountains of tears, did with such plenty rain  
Them on his cheeks, and they such virtue had,  
That it revived again the breathless lad;  
His eye's he weakly opens, and he sends  
From his afflicted soul a sigh, which ends  
In his dear Silvia's spirit, by her sweet  
Mouth it was catched and seemed with it to meet;  
Her Echo quite enlivened him, but who  
Can now declare the joy possessed these two;  
Aminta thought 'twas more than heavenly charms,  
That thus enclasped him in his Silvia's arms;  
He that loves servant is, perhaps may guess  
Their bliss; but none there is can it express.  Chor. 
And is Aminta fully cured canst tell?  
No danger of his life?  Elp. 
He's fully well:  
'Tis true he's somewhat bruised, but nothing he  
Does it account, and nothing it will be;  
Thrice happy he who did so fully prove  
Love's worst, and now doth taste the sweets of love;  
His sufferings and his torments only be  
Sweet seasonings of his felicity.  
Shepherd's farewell. For I must once again  
Make haste to find out the good old Montane.   

CHORUS.  

CAn that Martyrdom he proved,  
While he served, and while he loved,  
While he hoped, while he despaired,  
While he sighed, and while he cared,  
Ever recompensed be  
Though with joy's eternally?  
What if sweet things sweeter more  
Are when bitter go before?  
What if good things better will  
Be, if savoured with some ill?  
Yet Love I pray give me the lesse  
Not this greater blessedness.  
If thou wilt, bless others so,  
Who this full bliss crave to know:  
But let me my nymph enjoy,  
For a word or for a toy,  
Without sighs, and without care,  
Without tears, without despair.  
Let the season'ngs of our love,  
Such be as may only move,  
(Not such torments or such pain)  
Sweet repulses, sweet disdain;  
To which kind kisses may succeed,  
To show our hearts are still agreed.   
FINIS.     

Poems.  

Lucretia (ravished by Sextus Tarquin) to her Husband Collatine and her Friends.  

TO whom should poor Lucretia bemoan,  
Those wrongs, that outrage she has undergon  
But to the Collatine? no more ah me!  
No more, no more! thy faithful spouse is she:  
Since Sextus did my innocence invade,  
And our chaste bed a lustful stew hath made;  
If't be a sin to suffer this; if't be  
A fault to yield to forcing Tyranny,  
Rome judge me guilty: but if will alone  
In crimes be argued: then Lucrece has none;  
My body only he defiled, but still  
My purer mind rests guiltless from the ill;  
Nor ever did my noble soul yet move  
One footstep from its loyal constant love;  
I ne'er had thought to nuptial rights unjust,  
Nor ever did invite proud Tarquin's lust;  
Nor sought he like a lover to prevail,  
But like a bloody Tyrant did assail  
My chastity: I him esteemed a foe  
But yet did please him whenever I would or no:  
The Grecian Dames lamented Helen's fate,  
Cursed him that sacred bed did violate:  
You Latin matrons my hard hap bemoan,  
We have a Roman Paris; nor alone  
Is Troy of such faults guilty, great men's crimes  
Grow still and followed are by future times.  
What shall I do? no longer shall I be  
Now famed amongst the Dames for chastity.  
I may be styled a Matron, but no more,  
An undefiled Matron, ●s before:  
Yet I am guiltless: and his force made foul  
My body only, but ne'er touched my soul.  
Doubt not ye Romans; for you straight shall see  
A certain token of my constancy;  
I'll give you a sure sign, for since deprive  
His force did me of fame, I will not live;  
But by my own hands dying will proclaim  
His horrid wickedness and my just fame.  
They shan't point at Lucretia; ne'er will I  
Leave to the Roman Dames a memory  
That shall reproach them, nor can I give way  
To let suspicion feign what ere she may;  
This my magnanimous right hand shall be  
The steerer of my faith, my chastity;  
The Princes strong hand and his violent arms  
Enfolded me in these reproachful harms;  
My violent hand shall my redeemer be,  
And this sharp steel shall from them set me free:  
We'll not unto our Country be a stain,  
Nor give the wicked samples to profane  
The sacred marriage rites, never from me  
Shall Rome a sad example take to be  
Subject to willing Tyranny: nay more  
Perhaps my rape her freedom may restore;  
When ages yet to come shall praise my name,  
And if not patiented, noble me proclaim:  
In Brother's blood the first of Tyrants dies  
His walls. this offers as a Sacrifice  
A ravished spouses blood, that Tiber's shore  
May stained be both with male and female gore;  
Thou Father take in hand thy dart, thou Brute  
No more refuse to act, no more be mute,  
Nor let unpunished go such cursed crimes,  
But like a man revenge them; now the times  
Of thy feigned madness cease: he whose strong hand  
Can overcome a woman, yet can't stand  
Before you armed men, thus only ease  
And thus alone dear Collatine appease  
Thou mayst my ghost; let not th' adulterer scape  
The just reward of his most horrid rape;  
Thestiad's sword was by Orestes head  
Made famous: he defiled his father's bed.  
I guiltless lived, and in that title die,  
Yet my fame lost no longer live will I.    

Vetruria to her Son, Cn. Martius Coriolanus, about to raise civil war against his Country.  

WHat horrid madness does thy brains infest,  
Thus to disturb thy country's quiet rest  
With hostile arms? what! canst thou think it good  
To die a Latian dart in Roman blood?  
Or canst imagine Rome's injurious hate  
Deserves to be revenged at such a rate?  
Consider, Martius, by this dismal strife,  
Thou cut'st the thread of thy Volumnia's life;  
And whilst thou dost revenge thy private ill  
Thou her who first gave life to thee dost kill;  
What can thy fury make so foul a breach?  
Can envy, hatred, malice, thus far reach?  
And can that venerable name of Rome  
Now in thy heart find no respectful room?  
Wilt turn son to an en'my, make me share,  
To be a consort in this bloody war?  
Those Cities thou destroy'st are ours, each field  
which thou layst waste doth us our comforts yield;  
Those walls which thou seek'st todeface are mine,  
Thy wife's, thy children's, friends, nay very thine;  
Let great Rome's people guilty be, who did  
Banish the man had been their glorious head;  
The matrons guiltless are; with one accord  
They damned the wickedness: and all afford  
Curses to those base Tribunes which she sent  
To exile, and in vain these wars lament.  
Consider yet, these, thy wife, children, I,  
Amongst thy unjust foes entangled lie;  
Thou with our danger seekest revenge: and we  
Though not in guilt, in it must partners be;  
Seekest thou thus to embrace me? thus entwine  
Me in thine arms? alas! they are not thine  
They are my foes: and now thy mother I  
By thee shall led be to Captivity:  
I for thy triumphs am designed, and round  
About thy armed bands must be led bound.  
Those arms that used to reach the dug to thee,  
By hostile arms must now enforced be.  
Those household gods thou used'st to adore,  
By armed fury will be trampled o'er;  
The harmless child must with the rest be slain,  
The guiltless receive part o'th'guilty's pain;  
For this brought I thee forth (ah luckless day)  
That thou mightest to the Volscians us betray?  
Am I cause of this evil? must my name,  
Great Romulus? eclipse thy Empire's fame,  
Since from my bowels issued that fierce boy,  
Who seeks his native Country to destroy:  
 make me guilty of this, Martius? why  
Shouldst thou thus strive to make me basely die?  
Nay this thy crime being by thy Country laid  
Unto my charge will sure disturb my shade;  
Were I an exul too! 'twould ne'er grieve me,  
To die by any one but only she:  
Disband dear Martius yet thy mighty powers  
And be pleased with us: see those lofty towers  
Long since by Romulus erected: see  
Those stately Temples; relics: let these be  
Thy sweet appeasers, but if they won't move  
Thee, yet think once more of thy kindred's love;  
'Twill be a shame to thee if thou shouldst have  
Her to thy wife who will be then thy slave;  
Or what great honour thinkest thou wilt thou gain,  
When thy dear mother captive doth remain:  
Be wise, though angry, let not fury throw  
Thee on designs whereby no praise doth grow;  
If nothing else, yet let our tears thee move,  
Man's suppl'ant tears will bend the mighty Jove;  
But if my sighs and cries can't thee suspend  
From such vile act'ons: if thy wife contemned  
Be by thee; if thy gods get no respect;  
Or if thy Country's name thou dost reject:  
Turn thy sword in my bowels, let me feel  
The sharpest force of thy revenging steel.  
Those who before the mighty Rome did fear,  
(The Vejans and Falisc ans) now will jeer;  
How will the Samnites laugh to see that none  
Can overcome great Rome, but she alone?  
How willingly shall I consent to die,  
Rather than see my Country's misery.    

Catiline Exhorting his Soldiers to fight with Anthony.  

HEre stand we fortune: nor hast thou us gi'n  
A Captain who hath dull or slothful been;  
What though the Romans are content to serve;  
And from their ancient noble tenants swerve?  
I by these wars choose rather to proclaim,  
My manlike soul craves liberty or fame;  
He only has true honour who dare die  
Rather than live in endless slavery;  
And dying thus to shun a servile shame,  
Losing his life wins honour to his name.  
What though my harder fortune may deny  
To my full hopes success or victory:  
My daring and illustrious soul shall be,  
For ever famous to posterity;  
Then let our only hope of triumph rear  
Our freeborn souls and make them void of fear;  
Why should we tremble at the Consul's sword,  
Or be obedient to the Senate's word,  
Since we maintain that they no Senate be,  
But mere usurpers of our liberty:  
Why should the mighty Rome fear Cato? why  
Should it to Piso Crassus' subject lie?  
weare Romans too, and from the self same race  
The footsteps of the famed Aeneas trace:  
theyare not alone Quirinus' offspring, nor  
Are they alone sprung from the god of war;  
We from the same stock do descend, and claim  
Right in the glories of our grandsires name:  
Why should they full with gold their treasures make?  
Why we oppressed with poverty? they rake  
And squeeze the people to increase their gains,  
Our riches are the fruits due to our pains;  
They with their prouder faces do command,  
And boast dominion o'er both sea and land;  
Are we by birth or courage less than they?  
Or have we no soul left but to obey?  
Why should not they to us obedience show,  
Or why should they despise me thus? why you?  
Are we thy laughingstock proud Rome? must we  
Be thus neglected and contemned by thee?  
Whilst some with an insulting state do go  
Bearing the mace before 'em, others flow  
With heapt-upriches, these usurp the Laws,  
And at their pleasure deal in every cause;  
Such is their pride: the Consul seems to be  
Subject unto the Tribunes tyranny;  
When we like Ciphers stand, and void of state  
Neglected lie like minds degenerate:  
These live in stately marble structures, we  
Must with poor cottages contented be,  
These strive their Empire still to magnify,  
And stretch their vast dominions to the sky;  
We wanting all things miserably poor,  
Are forced both cold and hungry to endure;  
For this did nature us produce? or thus  
To live? is this the fate assigned us?  
Must we thus suffer? No, it shall not be  
Our swords from what the gods themselves decree  
Shall free us: he who bears a noble soul,  
May destiny and fate itself control;  
Fortune assists the bold: let's not incite  
Its frowns, nor our own slavery invite  
By coward-minds; nor lose by our vain sloth,  
The gaining Rome, or liberty, or both.  
The hopes of gold embolden some men's breasts,  
Which an insatiate cov'tousuesse infests;  
But let your courage spring from thoughts more high  
It is your own; your country's liberty  
You crave and fight for; here you nobly gain  
Honour which truly does requite your pain;  
I'll be both Soldier, and your General,  
Nor me Commander but Companion call;  
To Roman tyrants I'll their pride make known,  
And will revenge, hers, your wrongs, and my own  
This hand devoted to my Country's health  
Shall fight for you; this shall restore your wealth:  
Revenge the altars of the gods through death  
And slaughters, give Rome new & freeborn breath  
Go then, and with courageous minds assail,  
The Consul's tents, and doubt not to prevail.  
Hope in the Victor-gods: now only force  
Convenes, sloth hurts, nor must ye have remorse,  
Or being Romans, Romans fear to kill.  
Pity's good after fight, before 'tis ill.  
Unbridled fury now of all helps best;  
And fear to kill, denotes too base a breast;  
But whosoever he be that fears to die,  
Half dead already is, to death more nigh;  
There is no hope in flight, a double host  
With all their power on each side doth accost  
Our tents: the Alps encompass us half round,  
The Consul is possessed of yonder ground;  
That side presents Metellus to our sight,  
There is no way of safety but by fight:  
Go on then bravely let your sharp swords find  
A passage through them, he that has a mind  
To fight may scape, at least he'll nobly die,  
Not like a carcase unrevenged lie:  
Then let not fear surprise your hearts, be bold,  
The Roman people shall as well behold  
The slaughter of their own, as ours, and he  
That drinks this blood with his it shall mixed be;  
And though they Victors are, they shall not boast,  
But rather weep the bloody conquests cost.    

Mutius Scaevola to Porsenna, when killing his Secretary instead of him be was taken.  

BEhold grim Tyrant, here before thee stands,  
A man had been thy death, had not these hands  
Proved Traitors to my mind: had made that grave  
Been thine; which now's prepared for thy slave.  
If Scaevola must undergo death's doom,  
There's none but will write guiltless on his tomb:  
I set upon with fearless courage those  
Who were our Capitols, our Country's foes;  
Why are the heavens then thus against me bend?  
And not propit'ous to my brave intent?  
What! are the gods ashamed to lend their aid?  
Or are they of this Tyrant's power afraid?  
Or have the fates reserved him that he  
In future triumphs might a trophy be?  
What e'er 'twas made them thus 'gainst me conspire,  
It grieves my soul it had not its desire;  
Etruria see what souls the Romans bear,  
Admire the noble acts the Latians dare;  
Long after me that will this fact yet do  
There comes another and another too;  
There want not those who hope to say they wore  
A laurel died in thy crimson gore:  
What though thy Camp lies free from our alarms,  
And spoils our fields with unrevenged harms;  
We scorn with base blood to slain a dart,  
O King, that's only levelled at thy heart:  
Our nobler swords will drink the blood of none,  
But thy heart blood, Porsenna, thine alone;  
Those who their hands will straight in it imbrue,  
Walk intermixed with thy armed crew.  
Methinks I see at present one thee note,  
Who straight will hid his weapon in thy throat;  
Hence therefore think each hour of thy breath,  
To be the assured hour of thy death;  
Thou dost with warlike troops our walls surround,  
Hoping to lay them levelly with the ground,  
And thinkest to famish us whilst o'er thy head  
Hangs a revengeful arm wilstrike thee dead;  
That glorious Diadem which now I see  
Circles thy brow was hoped a spoil by me;  
That purple robe invests thy loins shall lie,  
Thy blood be tinged in a deeper die;  
That very sceptre which thy hand sustains,  
Shall, turned a club, dash out thy cursed brains;  
Now Rule, now Lord and King it, with this fate  
Expecting still the period of thy date.  
Methinks I see how on thy curled brow,  
Self-rendring vengeance sits enthroned, and how  
Thy thoughts already tear me; yet I feel  
No horror, nor my frighted body reel,  
No trembling in my joints: know, King, I can  
Both do and suffer 'bove the reach of man:  
In freeborn souls pale terror never stood  
In competition with their Country's good;  
Those souls in whom aspiring fame her sphere  
Hath placed, neglect the precipice of fear.  
This sacred Altar, these pure fires shall be  
Witness of our undaunted constancy;  
This hand to Roman freedom so unjust,  
Shall for its penance be consumed to dust;  
Nor is it cruel, but most right it's doom,  
Since liberty it could not yield to Rome.    

On a Lady sick of the small pox.  

LEt those whose towering thoughts can from the spring  
Of Helicon their highflown fancies bring,  
Invoke their muse, and in their loftier strains  
Distil those streams that flow from nobler veins,  
My groveling muse ne'er knew what meant the fire  
Of a Poetic rapture, till mine ire,  
When envious sickness seized so fair a frame,  
Constrained me thus to burst into a flame:  
And shall base scab I at thy malice chide,  
Or thy poor silly impudence deride?  
Alas! because that of't those rosean buds,  
Which sooner than the rest throw off their hoods  
To show their native beauty, and display  
Their modest blushes to the early May,  
Are nipped by sudden frosts like those that meet,  
When freed from swaddling bands, their winding sheet  
Dost think therefore that thy malicious spite  
Can check the dawnings of her beauteous light?  
Which shines eradiant as the day when born,  
On the winged shoulders of a clearer morn;  
Hadst thou attempted on some meaner face,  
Where beauties lustre shone with common grace;  
It might have yielded when thou didst assail:  
But here thy poison can no more prevail  
Than can that sable mantle, which the night  
Draws o'er the world, and so presents our sight,  
Those lesser fires not cease to be no more,  
When glittering Phoebus guilds the Eastern shore:  
But stay, perhaps it was not malice made  
Thy noxious heat thus boldly to invade  
Such matchless beauty. Sol himself began  
With anxious envy to look pale and wan,  
And fearing lest hereafter should arise  
Such splendour from the sunshine of her eye's,  
As should obscure and dark his glory, sent  
Straight out of policy an instrument,  
To damp that brightness and eclipse those rays,  
Which he foresaw would rob him of his bays;  
'Twas wisely done! could that judicious head  
Which comprehends all wit be thus misled?  
Sure he forgot how that his beams do use  
To clear those mists which oft do circunfuse  
His splendid orb, and dart with greater light  
Through darkness would obscure the day with night:  
So having cleared those mists she will appear,  
A Sun more bright in beauty's Hemisphere.    

In praise of a Constable.  

ALas alas! see how my muse  
Has broke her hamstrings, slipped her noose,  
Her fancy towers aloft, nor will  
A common subject please her quill;  
She's like those reverend Sirs which preach  
What's far above their wisdoms reach,  
As if their nonsense had the merit,  
To have it fathered on some spirit:  
She'll sing a theme'bove what she's able,  
John Petty Tyrant the Constable:  
But see alas she's big with doubt,  
Some zealous midwife help her out,  
That she may first be brought to bed  
Of his light horn, or his light head;  
Thanks Sir, it's done, nor thinks she scorn  
In the first file to rank his horn;  
In hopes she may be the Recorder,  
That he's dubbed knight o'th' forked order;  
Hail then, Sir John, and think't not wipe,  
You shall have th'pot, your wife the pipe,  
What would you roast your nose and eye's,  
And have her freeze between the thighs?  
You'll represent his Highness' grace,  
Let some Sir then supply your place.  
But hark methinks the clocks go twelve,  
Let's up and seek those fairy elves  
Which used to riot in the night,  
Because by day their purse is light,  
Who (maids) do use to deal their knocks,  
Not pinch your arms, but pick your locks:  
Hobgoblins which do use to scare  
A miser worse than Bull or Bear;  
He's up and like a brave Commander,  
Who's wit would shame my Grandams gander;  
First with the choicest of his crew  
He man's his fort, sets some perdieu;  
Then ranks the rest, and so they go  
As stout as hares to start the foe;  
Thus they march, but by his side,  
A brave Esquire of much pride,  
Who with quick eye and prickt-up ear,  
First finds out what doth cause their fear.  
'Twas this Lynceus piercing eye,  
A hideous Monster doth espy,  
Which he beholds with start up hairs  
Devoutly falling to his prayers.  
And then almost half dead cries out,  
Unto the rest of the bold rout:  
Oh Sirs we're dead, ha'ye made your wills?  
Oh dismal night, prepare your bills,  
The Monster looks most wrath and wood,  
As if he meant to suck your blood;  
We better had fierce Lions meet,  
It's dire Sir Backbite many feet,  
What shall we do alack, alack,  
He has th' Constable by the back,  
At which words their stout General  
Through valour lets his weapon fall,  
Being of a courageous mind  
Discharged a Lulloim behind,  
Which missed the foe, my muse supposes,  
And yet assailed all their noses;  
Some cried the gun was foul and stank,  
Because the powder was too dank,  
By his quick fall my muse still boded,  
That he the gun had overloaded;  
Which so recoiled at the blow,  
It made him fall beneath the foe,  
At which their fear redoubled, and  
Like men bereft of sense they stand,  
Till at the length one stout as steel  
Doth pluck his heart out of his heel;  
And apprehends the foe, their cries  
In his applause straight rend the skies:  
Some said he was Sir George alone,  
Some the seven Champions all in one,  
No living man, they all agree,  
Can do such feats of Chivalry;  
Whilst thus they echo out his praise,  
One charitably seeks to raise  
Their leader, who, he straight doth find,  
Has shot before and eke behind:  
He then with kind words doth him greet,  
But finds his heart stuck in his teeth;  
Amazed than he pulls in haste  
A bottle from beneath his waste;  
Unstops and dexterously let flies  
Streams of strong-waters in his eyes,  
And so recalled his fleeting soul,  
Their joy then sounds without control;  
They now march back to th' Citadel,  
And on the prisoners quarters fell;  
Some would condemn him to the jail,  
Some show their teeth, and some their nail;  
Their Gen'ral, who had art at will,  
Would have him thrust through with a bill;  
They all concluded with a shout,  
He had the wisest judgement out,  
So straight they chose from out the rest  
One whom they did esteem the best,  
For he had long be a tried fighter,  
And had destroyed Sir Skip Backbiter,  
This monster Cousin , and  
Now takes his lance into his hand,  
Shakes it, and with career doth run  
More fierce than e'er did knight o'th' Sun,  
And with the shock overthrows the foe, who lies  
Rolling o'th' ground, gives up the ghost & dies;  
And now, my friends, 'twas my intent,  
But that the night is so far spent,  
T' inter the monster, and to write  
A full relation of the fight,  
On's tomb; but harken it doth chime,  
The Clock tells four, it is full time,  
That sick Sir John were brought to's home,  
Wither at length he being come,  
Found that's wife, pitying his case,  
Had got a friend to warm his place;  
Here than they leave him and think best,  
That all repair unto their rest;  
And my muse so benumbed she scarce could creep,  
Is at the length crawled home and fallen asleep.    

A voyage from Egypt.  

NOt of those giants great I sing,  
That did hills top o't'other fling  
For to climb up to Heaven;  
Nor yet of Theseus' noble facts,  
Or Hercules his valiant acts,  
Or the world's wonders seven:   

2.  
I sing not of those Trojan wars,  
Whose fame already mounts the stars,  
Or victory of the Greeks;  
Nor yet will I employ my muse  
To tell you how they fed the Jews  
With garlic and with leeks.   

3.  
But yet the best I can I'll tell  
What in a voyage me befell  
Made from a land of Moors:  
A land of asses well you wots  
I left, but yet I'll tell you what,  
I chanced to light 'mongst 
* I came on a Flemish ship.  bores.   

4.  
I never thought beasts of that race  
Did use the surging seas to trace;  
Their brawn is good at feasts,  
But yet I'll tell you I might guess  
Both lands were low, so more or less  
Both people might be beasts.   

5.  
Good god! should I give you account  
Of all my labours, they'd surmount  
Great Hercules his 
* I had occasion of no more.  seven;  
For I believe these bores are so  
Much like the Turks, they think to go,  
By bestialities to Heaven.   

6.  
First come aboard with a great stir,  
They gruntled out, You're welcome Sir?  
I stared and was half daunted:  
They grinned and grunted so together,  
That what with that, and the foul weather,  
I feared I was enchanted.   

7.  
The Captain straight me carries in,  
And drinks to me in my own wine,  
'Tis true I tell you now,  
And faith I judged it well as yet,  
If I amongst these Boars could get  
A pig of my own sow.   

8.  
But when we came to dinner, oh,  
My mouth with water began to flow  
You never saw the like:  
For I believe that such pure meat,  
So sluttish dressed, was never eat  
By any Irish Tike.   

9  
I now began to repent in vain,  
And wished myself ashore again  
To feed there like an ass,  
But all alas would not prevail,  
For now our ship was under sail,  
I wishted had been on grass.   

10.  
But come, I will observe some order,  
Though they had none in all their larder,  
And tell you of their diet;  
I do believe you'll think it good,  
But this advise you that you would  
Ne'er venture for to try it.   

11.  
First enter then a bowl of beans,  
Boiled just to mash, and swims with streams  
Of grease as black as hell:  
'Tis good sea meat, you need not chew it,  
And if you're sick with ease you spew it,  
And this I think likes well.   

12.  
The next is lentils which they boil  
With a commixtion of whales oil,  
With that a little brandy;  
Then Devils Cook with all your tricks,  
And boil the waters of black Styx,  
This dish will go beyond ye.   

13.  
Then comes in Stockfish full as tough  
As Bacon rind, and twice as rough,  
They'll take no pains to beat it;  
And I'll besworn can I get hay  
That feed but like a horse I may,  
I'll take no pains to eat it.   

14.  
To see the maggots in the Cheese  
Is that which best of all doth please,  
How monstrously they show;  
A vomit or a stool to urge,  
You need no glister nor a purge,  
Ne'er fear but this will do.   

15.  
But if on Sundays we did get  
A piece of powdered beef, why it  
Was monstrous rare and fine,  
O then you'd see them flash and slay,  
And swear by th' Sacrament that they  
Like Hogon Mogons dine.   

16  
'Tis true the flesh a hogo has  
But yet with them it well doth pass  
For wondrous good fare,  
And now I've told you of their meat,  
I'll tell you who they were it eat,  
You'll judge what Boars they are.   

17.  
Then first the Captain mounts the stage,  
And he appears a Saint of age  
Although he be not old;  
Yet so his grace his age outstripped,  
That full nine years since he was dipped,  
As I have oft been told.   

18  
O 'tis a fatted Boar I'll swear,  
That with his bristles and his hair,  
He's full ten foot about,  
And faith when first I did him see,  
I thought Goliath such as he  
Though this wasn't half so stout.   

19  
Had you but seen with how much pains  
He'd wallow down the meat like grains,  
IT would put you in a fear;  
For if you seek the whole world round  
Scarce such another would be found,  
Unless't a Marriot were.   

20.  
I wondered much how he could stay,  
To hear grace said, or rather prayer  
For 'twas not he that said it,  
But if you understand aright,  
It did but whet his appetite,  
God how he after paid it.   

21.  
Next mounts the mate our holy brother,  
The world affords not such another;  
'Tis a most precious Saint,  
O you might hear him preach and pray,  
Till quite his breath was gone away,  
I'm sure till I did faint.   

22.  
O what a piece of carrion 'twas,  
As lean as any straw-fed Ass,  
A pox upon his lungs,  
For had you heard his tittle tattle  
You would have sworn by his prattle,  
He had had twenty tongues.   

23.  
You'll judge the rest of this foul rabble,  
And put me to no further trouble;  
That I felt there was sore,  
And I imagine all like me,  
That were they caught but once, they'd be  
Entrapped by them no more.   

24.  
I do believe these are the swine,  
With whom the prodigal did dine,  
At least like them they be:  
But if his whores were of this kind,  
He had a devilish lustful mind,  
Faith he should— for me.   

25.  
But all this while we under sail  
Endured many a bitter gale,  
And yet I wished for more;  
I was so tired with hard fare,  
That in good troth I did not care  
Though I came wet ashore.   

26.  
At length we reached Messina; here  
The Spanish Boys did scold and jeer,  
And called me English dog,  
I thought they with more reason might,  
Against the Captain vent their spite,  
And call him Flemish hog.   

27.  
Well, here I some refreshment got,  
I after wished I had it not,  
It made my grief the more;  
For all my hate to Boorish diet,  
Yet I was forced again to try it,  
Which worse was than before.   

28.  
Scarce gotten from Messina well,  
Becalmed before the gates of hell  
Full fourteen days we lay;  
Judge now in what a case we were,  
They call it Strombello, and here  
The Devil dwells they say.   

29.  
I think the Devil had a desire,  
To Cook a whole Boar at his fire,  
But none were good enough;  
'Twas well for them they wasn't in case,  
And though the Captains burly face,  
Yet he was found too tough.   

30.  
At last we reached unto our port,  
Which made my heart begin to sport,  
I thought I was in heaven,  
This voyage taught me how to preach,  
But all the doctrine that I teach,  
Is weare the Flemings leaven.    

Dom. Baudii. Gno. Iamb. lib. primus.  

WHo bears a manlike soul, or valiant breast  
Provokes not dangers to disturb his rest,  
Nor is so prodigal on every cause,  
Too light to spend his strength, but when the laws  
The true Religion, or his Country's good  
Crave his assistance, freely spills his blood;  
To cast away our life denotes a fear,  
Who throws not off that load he cannot bear?  
Cato or Cassius scarce deserved a room  
In fame, and virtue groaned to raise their tomb:  
We might more justly praise to Otho lend,  
Who lived a woman; like a man did end.    

The Defiance.  

1.  
NO more, no more, no more fond love will I  
Own thee to be a deity,  
No longer fear thy bow or dart,  
Or think th' haste power to wound a heart,  
There's none but fools are subject to thy skill,  
I'll scorn thy force, and love but where I will;  
Let dotards hold thou canst control  
The motions of a noble soul,  
I'll never fear to be thy slave,  
Or think that o'er my heart thou power canst have.   

2.  
Then childish boy, go let thy weaker darts  
Pierce sottish fools or madman's hearts,  
In vain, in vain they here are thrown,  
Think not with steel to pierce a heart of stone:  
No, thou mayst sooner move the firmament,  
Make the poles meet, than make my heart relent;  
'tis too too firm, nor will it be  
Bound to so base a slavery,  
Nor can my noble constant mind  
To any force or power be confined.   

3.  
Nay I'll not only not be slave to thee,  
But thou shalt be a slave to me,  
I will usurp thy pow●r and find  
Ways to subject a female mind,  
Which thou fond boy couldst never boast to know,  
And not ensnare, but fairly force my foe,  
Whilst thou shalt pine because  
My power exceeds thy laws,  
And shalt be forced to yield to me  
Thy bow, thy dart, thy very deity.    

The wonder.  

1.  
I Can't devise what Devil 'tis can move  
Men to this fond, this foolish passion love,  
In the best woman I spy not one part,  
Worthy to wound a noble heart,  
Nor can the beauties of a face,  
A comely carri'ge or a grace,  
Wit or discourse, in my poor soul take place.   

2.  
'Tis true in beauty I find some delight,  
But yet no farther than to please my sight,  
I love fair eyes, I love a Rosy cheek,  
I love a skin that's smooth and sleek,  
I love soft breasts: but of all these  
There's none that with my heart agrees,  
They only serve my outward sense to please.   

3.  
Strange that menssouls should be bewitched and 〈◊〉  
Subject to darting of a female eye,  
No soul's sure so ignoble to take fire,  
From such a low base-born desire,  
They're made our servants, and shall we  
By loving them, make them to be  
Equal? nay grant them superiority?   

4.  
There may be witchcraft in a comely grace,  
There may be witchcraft in a beauteous face,  
But I for ever that power in love dis-own,  
That makes me others slave than's own,  
'Tis worse than Turkish Tyranny,  
In love for him to make me be  
To her that is my slave in slavery.    

The Composition.  

THreat'st thou to wound me? fool thou threat'st in vain,  
Thou mayst shake heaven with lesser pain,  
Or make the mountains plain,  
The Northern pole go move,  
Go bring the bright Sun from above,  
And then come boast thoust forced me love.   

2.  
I'd have thee know I have a flinty heart,  
That scorns thy utmost power or art,  
Nay thy all-piercing dart,  
Go and let it's steely head  
Imprint itself on hearts of lead,  
None break a flint but on a featherbed.   

3.  
I dare thy foolish threats, but hadst thou come  
With prayers and humbly sought a room  
Perhaps I had gi'n thee some,  
Strong Rhodes was found  
'Gainst Turkish force to keep her ground,  
But fair conditions offered, did compound.   

4.  
Then if that laying by thy bow and dart,  
By league thou wilt secure my heart,  
Let's thus conditions part;  
I'll leave that whole to thee  
But thou must let me still go free,  
With bag and baggage both from it and thee.    

The Conquest.  

GEntly kind love restrain, restrain thy hand,  
Keep back thy cruel pricking dart  
Lest it not wound but kill my heart;  
I yield, who dare resist if thou command;  
O let it be enough for thee,  
That thou hast gained o'er me the victory,  
Do not insult upon my misery.   

2.  
Shouldst thou continue still to conquer me,  
And shouldst not to my o'reflown grief  
Send some small comfort or relief,  
Death would at last of both have victory;  
Be merciful and let me live,  
Lest while t'enlarge thy power thou dost strive,  
Thy cruelty Subjects of life deprive.   

3.  
I ask no more, but so far pity me  
As with the self same dart  
To wound her frozen heart,  
That so she may no more relentless be,  
And thus shalt thou two subject's gain,  
Who will this victory of thine proclaim,  
And ever honour thy all-conquering name.    

Reason in Love.  

'tIs not the lustre of thy darting eye  
Which shines so gloriously,  
Nor is't thy twin-born milk-white breasts which show  
Like mounts of purer snow,  
'Tis not thy cherry lip or golden hair,  
Which makes me judge thee fair,  
Nor is't thy pleasant sweet discourse or wit,  
Nor what proceeds from it,  
Thy comely carriage or thy grace, can move  
Me to adore or love.  
But 'tis thy purer soul which still I find  
Compliant to my mind;  
In all things but what would most pleasant be  
That is thy loving me,  
Were't then fair Helen fairer, couldst thou boast  
Thy beauty o'er the most.  
Didst thou in all men's judgements where thou'rt seen  
Exceed the sea-born Queen;  
If the least falseness in thy soul I see,  
Thou'dst seem most foul to me:  
Were thy mind blemished with the smallest blot,  
Or the least faithless spot,  
The blackest ill-looked Indian would appear  
To me than thee more rare;  
'Tis the bright soul that darting out its light  
Makes beauty a delight,  
Which else like the inclouded Sun would be  
Gloomy and dark to me:  
'Tis that alone which me thy slave can make,  
And love thy body for thy fair souls sake.    

Beauty.  

1.  
THou soul-bewitching devil, at first made  
men's inward senses to invade,  
That hast the power to invite  
Man's purer mind unto a feigned delight:  
That first dost conquer with thy flattering eye,  
And then insult'st upon our misery.   

2.  
Thou heart-entrapping witch, which dost deprive,  
Men first of sense, and then of life;  
Thou snake that li'st'mongst fairest flower  
Raised by the moisture of sweet April showers;  
And so with greater ease dost work our harms,  
Regarding none but only thy own charms.   

3.  
Thou mere conceit of man's imagination,  
Blown up and down, fixed to no station;  
Which hast no more in thee of bliss,  
Than what by his fond soul imagined is;  
So, if a Chaos by him deemed be,  
Fair 'tis, by much more beautiful than she.   

4.  
Thou painted garnished flower, only made  
To flatter men, and then to fade:  
That so they punished may be,  
Like Tantalus, not to enjoy, but see;  
Mounting them up, first to a promised bliss,  
To let them fall to more unhappiness.   

5.  
Thou fruit, like cursed Sodoms, which dost lie  
Delighfull pleasing to the eye:  
But if once touched like them thou'rt found,  
But only fair without, within unsound  
Like summer pears, a pleasant outward part,  
But if once cut, found rotten at the heart.    

The Variety.  

THou sayest I swore I loved thee best,  
And that my heart lived in thy breast,  
And now thou wonder'st much that I  
Should what I swore then, now deny,  
And upon this thou taxest me  
With faithlessness, inconstancy:  
Thou hast no reason so to do,  
Who can't dissemble ne'er must woo.   

2.  
That so I loved thee 'tis confessed,  
But 'twas because I judged thee best,  
For than I thought that thou alone  
Waste virtues, beauty's paragon:  
But now that the deceit I find,  
To love thee still were to be blind,  
And I must needs confess to thee  
I love in love variety.   

3.  
Alas! should I love thee alone,  
In a short time I should love none;  
Who on one well loved feeds, yet,  
Once being cloyed, of all, loathes it;  
Wouldst thou be subject to a fate  
To make me change my love, to hate?  
Blame me not then, since 'tis for love  
Of thee, that I inconstant prove.   

4.  
And yet in truth 'tis constancy,  
For which I am accused by thee;  
To nature those inconstant are,  
Who fix their love on one that's fair;  
Why did she, but for our delight,  
Present such numbers to our sight;  
'Mongst all the earthly Kings, there's none  
Contented with one Crown alone.    

She inconstant.  

HA'! now you think  cheated me, oh no,  
I did believe you would do so:  
Who ever did the various wind  
Still constant to one corner find?  
Whenever did the changeling air  
Show itself still serene and fair?  
Yet we might sooner hope these thus should be,  
Than think to find in woman constancy.   

2.  
We may as well command the Sun not move,  
As you with constancy to love,  
Or bid the sea be free from waves,  
When stormy blustering Boreas raves,  
Nay we as well the Moon might woo,  
To leave her weekly change as you:  
Your nature 'tis, and should you constant be,  
I fear you'd prove unnatural to me.   

3.  
You lighter much than feathers are, and so  
Must move with whar e'er wind doth blow,  
Hurried about, now here, now there,  
Now yonder; but yet fixed no where.  
Perhaps at length a gust may be  
To bring you back once more to me;  
But Jove forbidden: for yet I fear thou'dst move  
My ensnared soul to ruin in thy love.    

The Resolution.  

1.  
NOw by that beauty I so much adore,  
I am resolved to dote no more,  
No longer shall my passions strive  
Me of my reason to deprive,  
No longer will I subject be,  
But nobly set my heart at liberty.   

2.  
Then go dear heart, and be no more confined  
To a woman's changeling mind;  
Why shouldst thou a subject be  
To their self-willed tyranny;  
Break, break thy bands and fetters, know,  
Subject to her, thou'rt subject to a foe.   

3.  
There's nought in her that thee her slave hath made,  
'Tis thou that hast thyself betrayed,  
By fanc'ing that her beauties shine  
Like something more than half divine:  
Think then thyself deceived to be,  
thou'rt undeceived, and art than thought more free.   

4:  
'Tis men alone that women's Empire raise,  
By wooing them with fancied praise;  
When, if we would their masters be,  
They must grant Superiority:  
Nay, did we cease to flatter thus,  
'Twould not be long ere they would flatter us.   

5:  
Cease then my heart, and dote no more in vain,  
Thou never thus the fort wilt gain;  
No more upon entreaties stand,  
But learn like her how to command;  
Those Castles which find no remorse,  
On summons must be taken in by force.    

She Weeping.  

1.  
SEe how she weeps, with what a grace  
Sorrow itself shows in her face;  
See how her eye's still dart their beams,  
Nothing eclipsed by those streams;  
See how those tears sprung from her eye,  
Like pearls enchased on rubies lie.   

2.  
So have I seen the clouds distil,  
Their heat drops, yet the Sun shine still:  
Which only some refreshment yield  
To the before Sun-scorched field;  
Ah! precious tears, might you but be  
Of half that comfort unto me,  
Then should I deem them far more rare,  
Then all the Ocean jewels are;  
But what avails it, since in vain,  
I hope they should refresh my pain?  
Since, Ah poor me! I plainly see  
They tears of grief, not pity be:    

The Wish.  

1.  
NO: my desires are limited; nor expand,  
They half so far: I do not crave,  
To have dominion o'er a mighty land,  
Nor Cressue riches would I have;  
The Grecian Empire would not be,  
Of any comfort or content to me.   

2.  
While she, dear she, deigns not to cast an eye,  
Of pity, or regard my grief,  
Rather insults upon my misery;  
So far, so far! she's from relief;  
Ah fairest Nymph, all that I crave,  
Is that one look of pity I might have.   

3.  
Wouldst thou be pleased but once to smile on me,  
For that smile I'd the Indies slight,  
In them there could not half that comfort be;  
Not half that pleasure or delight:  
No, the whole world to me would seem  
For such a favour of too small esteem.   

4.  
One smile I wish, nor would I have thee be  
Too lavish of such boons as those,  
Ah! how much would poor one recomfort me,  
One smile enough thy pity show:  
And shouldst thou not it then withhold.  
With joy I die, or else grow overbold.    

Despair.  

1.  
AH me! my tears and sighs I waste in vain,  
In vain of her I beg relief,  
Who neither pity nor regards my pain,  
Nor will yield comfort to my grief.   

2.  
No more, no more in vain to thee I'll cry,  
No thou my sighs no more shalt hear,  
But to some loan shade I'll retire and lie,  
Lamenting my hard fortune there.   

3.  
Where the kind Echo from th'enclosed air  
Shall grant to me what e'er I say,  
And from the hollow rocks answer my prayer,  
Nor ever, like thee, say me nay.   

4.  
But yet I fear lest while I here impart,  
And tell my griefs unto each tree;  
My bosom be not left without a heart,  
'Twil still burst out and fly to thee.    

Love or no Love.  

I Think I loved but for pastime, or so,  
Nor can I well tell if I loved or no,  
Sure, Love, I did but jeer thee: for I find  
Thou hast left no impression on my mind;  
Thy shafts ne'er yet touched me, nor did thy dart  
That I was sensible, e'er wound my heart,  
Yet I can love without thee, nor canst thou  
Subject that heart will sooner break than bow.  
Strange! that men should be causers of their woe,  
And fancy passions when they are not so,  
Thou hast no power to conquer; but what we  
By fancying a subjection give to thee.  
I can love so that neither my desire  
Can mount so high as to be termed a fire,  
And I can cease to love when e'er I please,  
Nor one, nor t'other shall disturb my ease.  
Go then fond boy, and break thy feebler darts,  
And boast no more thy power to conquer hearts,  
Since I have learned to fool thy power and thee,  
And love, or not love with Tranquillity.    

Gold.  

1.  
BAse sottish Idol, which dost vainly boast,  
T' extend thy power from coast to coast,  
Vaunting that there Temples be  
Reared in every heart to thee,  
Boast no more, for thou shalt find  
No altars smoking in my mind.   

2.  
What though the greatest kings thy subjects be,  
I'll not sacrifice to thee,  
Nor will spend one idle hour  
To adore thy flattering power,  
Fools! to adore a god will be  
False to 'em in necessity.   

3.  
Let the cursed Tyrant new inventions find,  
To please his never glutted mind,  
Let him his Subjects squeeze and rake,  
And full with gold his checquer make,  
Yet at the end he shall confess  
Mine is the greater happiness.   

4.  
Let the fond merchant seek the Indian shore,  
To find out treasures more and more,  
And venture life and liberty,  
Nay wife and children all for thee,  
Having done what he can invent,  
He'll find that I live more content.   

5.  
Let the learned Chemist striving to extract  
Thee from his fancies, or compact  
The Elixir to increase his gains,  
Lose both his treasure and his pains,  
And then he will confess that I  
Have lived by much more happily.   

6.  
Let the extorting Us'rer carp and care,  
And pinch his guts his god to spare,  
And let him unknown ways invent  
To raise, or else to rack his rent,  
To leave his gold he'll make more moan,  
Than ever I did to have none.    

The Farewell.  

1.  
NOw perverse world I'll bid thee quite farewell,  
What is there in thee that can please?  
Thy greatest joys disturb our ease,  
Thy favours thou at too dear rate dost sell,  
No, I'll thy slave no longer be,  
But quite retreat myself from thee,  
Or to some pleasant shade, or to a gloomy Cell.   

2.  
There in dull silence will I spend my days,  
Slighting thy favours and my fame,  
In vain men seek to get a name,  
Or their false glory in thy crowds to raise,  
Since that their living trophies must  
By time or fate consume to dust,  
And then what rests there of their toil-got praise?   

3.  
Yet in despite of thee my name shall be  
The talk of ages yet to come,  
In every time there shall be some,  
Which shall applaud me more for leaving thee,  
Then those fond simple fools who do  
Embrace thy woes and honours too,  
And make me famous to posterity.   
FINIS.    

BOOKS Printed for JOHN STARKEY At the sign of the MITRE, near the middle TEMPLE-GATE in Fleetstreet.   

Courteous Reader.  
These Books following are printed for, and sold by John Starkey, at his shop at the Mitre, near the Middle Temple-gate in Fleetstreet.  

Books in Divinity.  
1. MR. Thomas Hall's Practical and Polemical Commentary, or, Exposition upon the third and fourth Chapters of the latter Epistle of St. Paul to Timothy, wherein the Text is explained, foam Controversies discussed, sundry Cases of Conscience are cleared, many Common Places are succinctly handled, and divers Useful, and seasonable Observations raised. fol.  
2. Mr. Thomas Halls Homesus Enervatus, or a Confutation of the Millenarian Opinion, plainly showing that Christ will not Reign with the Saints for 1000 years on Earth, with a Word to our fifth Monarchy men, in octavo.  
3. Mr. Thomas Halls Apologia pro Ministerio Evangelico, in quà planè & plenè ostenditur ejus necessitas, dignitas, Efficacia & Vtilitas; in 8ᵒ.  
4. Mr. Richard baxter's Directions, and Persuasions to a sound Conversion, for prevention of that deceit and Damnation of Souls; and of those scandals, heresies, and desperate apostasies, that are the consequents of a counterfeit or superficial Change, this being the second Part of the Call to the unconverted, in octavo.  
5. M r: Richard Baxter. The Grotian Religion discovered at the Invitation of Mr. Thomas Pierce in his Vindication, with a Vindication of the Synod of Dort, from the Calumnies of the New Tylenus, and the Puritans from the censure of Mr. Pierce, in octavo.  
6. Mr. Richard Baxter of Saving Faith, that it is not only Gradually, but Specifically distinct from all common Faith, being a Treatise in answer to Mr. Barlow of Oxford, in quarto.  
7. Dr. Thomas Goodwin Opuscula Theologica, in octavo.  
8. Mr. Thomas Gataker, God's Eye on his Israel; being an Exposition on Numbers 23.21. in quarto.  
9 Mr. Thomas Gataker, de Justificatione, & de Dipthongis, in twelves.  
10. Mr. William Cartwright of Oxford, his Sermon of the Passion of Christ, in octavo.  
11. Mr. Thomas Warrens Justification Justified, or a Treatise of Justification by Faith, in octavo.  
12. Mr. Thomas Cooper's Act of Giving, or a Guide to Charity, in octavo.  
13. Mr. John Phillips Christian Alphabet, Containing Grounds of Knowledge unto Salvation, in twelves.  
14. Mr. Adam Harsnets' Gods Summons into a General Repentance, in twelves.  
15. Mr. Thomas Hooker of New-England, his miscellanies, containing five Excellent Treatises in Divinity, in twelves.  
16. Mr. Richard Sedgwick. The Synopsis of Christianity, in an Exposition of the Commandments, Lords Prayer, and the Creed, in octavo.   

Books of History and Humanity.  
17. Letter's of Affairs, Love, and Courtship, written to several Persons of Honour and Quality, by the Exquifite Pen of Monsieur de Voiture, Englished by J. D. in octavo.  
18. Mr. Walter Montague his Shepherd's Paradise, a Comedy privately acted before the late King Charles, by the Queen's Majesty, and her Ladies of Honour, whose names are prefixed, in octavo.  
19 Mr. Thomas Halls Phaeton's Folly, being a Translation of the second Book of Ovid's Metamorphosts, Paraphrastically and Grammatically; with an Essay on Ovid de Tristibus, in octavo.  
20. Mr. Agricola Carpentars' Magical Description of the soul, in octavo.  
21. Mr. John Hayes Complete Tradesman, or a Guide for the true Stating of Interest, at Six per Cent. per. Annum, with other useful Tables, in twelves.  
22. A Relation of the Life of the Famous Christina, Queen of Sweden, whereunto is added her Genius, Translated out of French by J. H. in quarto.  
23. France no friend to England, or the Rosentments of the French, upon the success of the English, as it is expressed in a Remonstrance to the King of France, upon the surrendering of Dunkirk into the hands of the English, wherein much of the private Transactions between Cardinal Mazarine, and the late Protector, Oliver, are discovered, Translated out of French, in quarto.  
24. Mr. Henery Prashams' Truth of Time, Revealed, in twelves.  
25. Aminta, the Famous Pastoral, written in Italian, by Signoir Torquato Tasso, and Translated into English Verse by John Dancer; together with divers Ingenuous Poems, in octavo.   

In the Press.  
A Rare Piece, Entitled, the World Surveyed, or the Famous Voyages and Travels of Monsieur Vincent Le Blanc, Alias, White, a Frenchman of Marseilles, who, from the age of twelve years to threescore, traveled through the East and West-Indies, and most habitable Parts of the World: with a Description of all those Countries he passed through; the whole Work enriched with many pleasant Histories, Translated out of French into English, by W. P. folio.