Il pastor fido: or The faithfull shepheard. Translated out of Italian into English

About this Item

Title
Il pastor fido: or The faithfull shepheard. Translated out of Italian into English
Author
Guarini, Battista, 1538-1612.
Publication
London :: Printed [by Thomas Creede] for Simon VVaterson,
1602.
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Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A02284.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Il pastor fido: or The faithfull shepheard. Translated out of Italian into English." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A02284.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 7, 2025.

Pages

Act. 5. Sce. 6.
Tireme Mon. Carino.
SOftly my sonne, and set thy feet secure, Thou must vphold me in this rugged way, Thou art my bodies eye, I am thy mindes, And when thou com'st before the Priest, there stay,
Mon.
Is't not the reuerend Tirenio which I see? Who blind on earth, yet seeth all in heauen? Some great thing moues him thus, these many years I sawe him not out of his holy Cell.
Ca.
God grant he bring vs happie newes.
Mon.
Father Tirenio, what's the newes with you▪ You from the temple? how comes this to passe?
Tire.
To you I come for news, yet bring you news How oft blind eyes do aide the inward sight, The whilst the minde vntraueld with wilde sights, Withdrawes into it selfe, and Linceus eyes Doth set a worke in sightlesse sences blinde.

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We may not Montane passe so lightly ore The vnexpected things, that heauenly mixture temps with hu∣mane, Because the Gods do not conuerse on earth, Nor partly hold with mortall men at all. But all these workes so great, so wonderfull, Which the blind world to blinder chance ascribes, Is nothing but ce'estiall counsell talke, So speake th'eternall powers amongst themselues, Whose voices though they touch not deafened eares, Yet do they ound to hearts that vnderstand. O foure, ô six times happy he that vnderstands it well. The good Nicander as thou didst command, Stayes to conduct the holy sacrifice, But I retaind him by an accident That's newly falne: the which (I know not) all Vnwonted and confus'd, twixt hope and feare. Dulleth my sence. I cannot vnderstand, and yet the lesse I comprehend, the more I do conceiue.
Mon.
That which you know not wretch, I know too well, But tell me can the Fates hide ought from thee? That piercest to the deep'st of Destinies.
Tire.
If (sonne) the vse diuine of light propheticall Were natures gift, and not the gift of heauen, Then might'st thou see as well as I, that Fates Secrets sometime denie our working mindes, This onely tis that makes me come to thee, That I might better be inform'd who tis That is discouered father to the youth That's doom'd to die (if I Nicander vnderstand.)
Mon.
That father you desire to know am I.
Tire.
You father of our Goddesse sacrifice?
Mon.
I am the wretched father of that wretched sonne.
Tire.
Of that same faithfull shepheard, that to giue Life to an other, giues himselfe to death?
Mon.
His that by death giueth an other life, Yet by that death kills him that gaue him life.
Tire.
And is this true?
Mon.
Behold my witnesse here.
Ca.
That which he saith is true.
Tire.
And who art thou?

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Ca.
I am Carino his father thought till now.
Ti.
Is this the childe the floud so bare away?
Mon.
The very same.
Ti.
And for this then dost thou Montanus call thy selfe a wretched father? O monstrous blindnesse of these earthly mindes, In what a darke profound and mystie night Of errors be they drowned? when thou O heauenly sonne Dost not enlighten them: Montanus thou Art blinder in thy minde then I of eyes, That dost not see thy selfe the happiest father And dearest to the gods that euer yet did child beget. This was the secret which the Fates did hide. This is that happy day, with so much bloud So many teares we did expect. This is the blssed end of our distresse. O thou Montanus turne into thy selfe, How is the famous Oracle forgot, Printed i'the hearts of all Arcada? No end there is for that which you offends, Till two of heauens issue loue vnite, The teares of ioye so satisfie my heart I cannot vtter it. No end there i, No end there is to that which you offends, Till two of heauens issue loue vnite, And for the auntient fault of that false wight, A faithfull shepheards pitie make amends. Tell me Montanus, is not this thy sonne Heauens issue? is not Amarillis so? Who hath vnited them but onely loue? Siluio by parents force espowsed was To Amarillis, whom he hated still, If thou the rest examine, you shall plainly see The fatall voyce onely Mirtillo ment. For since Amyntas chance where haue we seene Such faith in loue that might coequall this? Who since Amyntas willing was to die For any Nymph, onely Mirtill except. This is that faithfull Shepheards pitie, which deserues To cancell that same auncient error of Lucrine.

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With this deed is the heauens ire appeaz'd, Rather then with the sheading humane bloud, Rendring vnto th'eternall iustice, that Which female treacherie did take away. Hence t'was no sooner he vnto the temple came, There to renew his vow, but straight did cease All those prodigious signes, now did The holy Image sweat out bloud no more, Nor shooke the ground, nor any noise nor stinch Came from the Caue, saue gracious harmony, And odours. O sweet mightie prouidence, O heauenly Cods, had I all words, all hearts, All to thy honour would I consecrate: But to my power Ile render you your due. Behold vpon my knees ô heauenly powers, I praise your name, how much am I oblig'd That you haue let me liue vntill this day? An hundred yeares I haue alreadie worne, And neuer yet was life so sweet as now: I but begun to to liue, now am I borne againe. Why leese I time with words that vnto deeds is due? Helpe me vp sonne, without thee can I not Vpraise these weake and feeble members sonne.
Mon.
Tirenio hath wak't such ioy in me Vnited yet with such a myracle As I scarce feele I ioy, nor can my soule Confounded shewe me high reteined mirth, O gracious pitie of the highest Gods, O fortunate Arcadia, ô earth, More happie then all earths beneath the sunne, So deare's thy good, I haue forgot mine owne, And my beloued sonnes, whom twise I lost, And twise againe haue found, these seeme a drop To the huge waues of thy great good: ô dreame, O blessed dreame, celestiall vision rather. Arcadia now thou waxest bright againe.
Ti.
Why stay we Montane now? heauens not expect A sacrifice of rage, but thankes and loue,

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In stead of death our Goddesse now commaunds Of marriage knot a sweet solemnitie: But say how farre's to night?
Mon.
Not past one houre.
Ti.
Then to the Temple turne, where let thy sonne Espowsed be to Amarillis straight, whom he may leade Vnto his fathers house before the sunne be set, So heauens commaund. Come, gow Montanus, gow.
Mon.
Take heed Tiremo we do not violate Our holy law, can she her faith now giue Vnto Mirtillo, which she Siluo gaue?
Ca.
And vnto Siluio may she giue her faith, So said thy seruant, was Mirtillo call'd, Though I more lik'd Mirtillo him to name.
Mon.
That's very true, I did reuiue his name In this my younger sonne.
Ti.
That doubt's well clear'd, now let vs goe.
Mon.
Carino go with vs, this day Mirtillo hath Two fathers found, Montane a sonne, and thou a brother.
Ca.
In loue Mirtilloes father, and your brother, In reuerence a seruant to you both: And since you are so kinde to me, I pray you then Bid my companion welcome for my sake.
Mon.
Most welcome both.
Ca.
Eternall heauenly powers, How diuerse are your high vntroden waies By which your fauours do on vs descend? From those same crook't deceitfull pathes whereby Our thoughts would fame mount vp into the sky?
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