Poems with the Muses looking-glasse: and Amyntas· By Thomas Randolph Master of Arts, and late fellow of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge.

AMYNTAS.

ACTVS I.

SCENA 1.

• Laurinda.
• Dorylas.

Dor.

TIs newes Laurinda that will ravish you!

Laur.

How, ravish mee? if't be such desperat newes I pray conceale it▪

Dor.

So I will.

Lau.

Nay Dorylas, Pray tell it though.

Dor.

Tis desperat newes,

Laur.

But prithee doe.

Dor.

I must conceale it.

Laur.

Doe not.

Dor.

Mistresse, you have prevail'd: I will relate it.

Laur.

No matter though whether you doe or no.

Dor.

No? then I will not tell you.

Laur.

Yet I care not Much if I heare it.

Dor.

And I care not much Whether I tell't or no.

Laur.

What is it?

Dor.

Nothing.

Laur.

Sweet Dorylas let me know.

Dor.

What pretty weather-cocks These women are? I serve a Mistresse here Fit to have made a Planet: sheele waxe and wane Twice in a minute.

Laur.

But good Dorylas Your newes.

Dor.

Why excellent Newes!

Laur.

But what?

Dor.

Rare newes! Newes fit,

Laur.

For what?

Dor.

To be conceal'd: why Mistresse The Rivalls, those on whom this Powerfull face Doth play the tyra•…•…t.—

Laur.

Dorylas what of them?

Dor.

Now, now shee wanes: O for a dainty Husband To make her a full Moone. The amorous couple! Your brace of sweet hearts Damon and Alexis Desire your audience.

Lau.

Is this all your newes? You may conceale it.

Dor.

Now you have heard it told I may conceale it! well I thanke thee Nature Thou didst create mee Man, for I want wit Enough to make up woman: but good Mistresse

What doe you think of Damon?

Laur.

As a man Worthy the best of Nymphs:

Dor.

What of Alexis?

Laur.

As one that may deserve the fairest Virgin In Sicilie.

Dor.

What Virgin?

Lau.

Proserpine, Were shee yet Ceres daughter.

Dor.

And what Damon?

Lau.

Hee? Ceres selfe, were she not yet a Mother:

Dor.

Creet, Creet! There is no Labyrinth but a woman•…•… Laurinda, gentle Mistresse tell mee which Of these you love?

Lau.

Why Damon best of any.

Dor.

Why so, that's well and plain.

Lau.

Except Alexis.

Dor.

Why then you love Alexis best?

Lau.

Of any.

Dor.

I am glad ont.

Lvu.

But my Damon.

Dor.

Be this true And Ile be sworne Cupid is turn'd a jugler? Praesto! you love Alexis best but Damon, And Damon but Alexis! Love you Damon?

Lau.

I doe.

Dor.

And not Alexis?

Lau.

And Alexis.

Dor.

Shee would ha'both I thinke.

Laur.

Not I by Ceres.

Dor.

Then you love neither?

Lau.

Yes, I doe love either.

Dor.

Either, and yet not both, both best, yet neither; Why doe you torture those with equall Racks, That both vow service to you? If your love Have pre fer'd Damon, tell Alexis of it; Or if Alexis, let poore Damon know it, That he which is refus'd, smothering his flame, May make another choice, now doubtfull hope Kindles desires in both.

Lau.

Ah Dorylas, Thy yeares are yet uncapable of love! Thou hast not learn'd the mysteries of Cupid! Dost thou not see through all Sicilia, From gentlest sheapheards to the meanest swaines, What inauspitious torches Hymen lights At every wedding? what unfortunate hands Linke in the wedding ring? Nothing but feares Iarres, discontents, suspicions, jealousies, These many yeares meet in the Bridall sheetes. Or if all these be missing, yet a Barrennesse, A curse as cruell, or Abortive births Are all the blessings crowne the Geniall bed▪ Till the successe prove happier, and I finde A blessed change, ile temper my affection Conceale my flames, dissemble all my fires And spend those yeares I owe to Love and Beauty Only in choosing on whose love to fixe My Love and beauty.

Dor.

Rare Feminine wisdome:

Will you admit 'em.

Lau.

Yes, goe call them hither. Yet doe not, now I thinke on't: yet you may too; And yet come back againe.

Dor.

Nay I will goe.

Lau.

Why Dorylas.

Dor.

What newes?

Lau.

Come back I say.

Dor.

Yes to be sent againe.

Lau.

You'l stay I hope.

Dor.

Not I by Ceres.

Lau.

Dorylas.

Dor.

No good Mistresse Farewell for I at length have learn'd to know You call me back only to bid mee goe.

Exit.

Lau.

Tis no great matter sirrah:—when they come Ile beare my selfe so equall unto both, As both shall thinke I love him best, this way I keepe both fires alive, that when I please I may take which I please.—But who comes here?

SCEN. 2.

• Laurinda.
• Thestylis.

O Thestylis y'are welcome!

Thest.

If Laurinda, My too abrupt intrusion come so rudely As to disturbe your private Meditations, I beg your pardon!

Lau.

How now Thestylis?

Grown Orator of late? has learned Mopsus Read Rhetorique unto you, that you come To see me with Exordiums?

Thest.

No Laurinda; But if there be a charme call'd Rhetorique; An art, that woods and forrests cannot skill; That with persuasive magique could command A pitty in your soule, I would my tongue Had learn'd that powerfull art!

Lau.

Why Thestylis, Thou know'st the brests I suck'd were neither wolves Nor Tygers, and I have a heart of waxe, Soft and soone melting; try this amorous heart; 'tis not Of flint or marble.

The.

If it were, Laurinda, The teares of her, whose orator I come Have power to soften it. Beuteous Amaryllis, Shee that in this unfortunate age of love, This haplesse time of Cupids tyranny Plac'd her affection on a skornfull sheapheard, One that disdaines her love.

Lau.

Disdaines her love! I tell thee Thestylis in my poore judgement, (And women if no envy blind their eyes, Best judge of womens beauties) Amaryllis May make a Bride worthy the proudest sheapheard In all Sicilia: but wherein can I Pitty this injur'd Nymph?

The.

Thus she desires you, As you desire to thrive in him you love;

As you doe love him whom you most desire, Not to love Damon! Damon alas repaies Her love with skorne! Tis a request she saies She knowes you cannot grant, but if you doe not Shee will not live to aske again.

Lau.

Poore Nymph. My Amaryllis knowes my fidelity; How often have we sported on the Lawnes, And danc'd a roundelay to Iocastus pipe? If I can doe her service Thestylis, Be sure I will: Good wench, I dare not stay Least I displease my Father; who in this age Of haplesse lovers watches me as close As did the Dragon the Hesperian fruit. Farewell.

Exit Laur.

Thest.

Farewell Laurinda! Thus poore •…•…oole I toyle for others; like the painfull Bee From every flower cull hony drops of love To bring to others hives: Cupid does this Cause I am Claius sister. Other Nymphs Have their varietie of loves, for every gowne, Nay every petticote; I have only one, The poore foole Mopsus! yet no matter wench, Fooles never were in more request then now. Ile make much of him, for that woman lyes In weary sheetes, whose Husband is too wise.

SCEN. 3.

• Thestylis.
• Mopsus.
• Iocastus.

Mop.

Iocastus, I love Thestylis abominably, The mouth of my affection waters at her.

Io.

Be wary Mopsus, learne of mee to skorne The mortalls; choose a better match: goe love Some Fairy Lady! Princely Oberon Shall stand thy friend: and beauteous Mab his Queene Give thee a Maid of Honour.

Mop.

How Iocastus? Marry a puppet? Wed a mote ith' Sunne? Goe looke a wife in nutshells? wooe a gnat That's nothing but a voice? No no, Iocastus, I must have flesh and blood, and will have Thestylis. A fig for Fairies!

Thes.

—Tis my sweet-heart Mopsus, And his wise brother: O the twins of folly! These doe I entertaine only to season The poore Amyntas madnesse.

Mop.

Sacred red and white, How fares thy reverend beauty?

The.

Very ill Since you were absent, Mopsus! where have you Beene all this live-long houre?

Mop.

I have been Discoursing with the birds.

The.

Why, can birds speake?

Io.

In Fairy land they can: I have heard 'em chirpe

Very good Greeke and Latin.

Mop.

And our Birds Talke better farre then they: a new-laid egge Of Sicilie shall out talke the bravest Parrat In Oberons, Vtopia.

The.

But what languages Doe they speake, servant?

Mop.

Severall languages, As Cawation, Chirpation, Hootation. Whistleation, Crowation, Cackleation, Shreekation, Hissation.

The.

And Fooleation.

Mop.

No, that's our language, we our selves speak that, That are the learned Augurs.

The.

What successe Does your Art promise?

Mop.

Very good.

The.

What Birds Met you then first?

Mop.

A Wood-cock and a Goose.

The.

Well met.

Mop.

I told 'em so.

The.

And what might this portend?

Mop.

Why thus—and first the Wood-cock—Wood and Cock, Both very good signes. For first the wood doth signify The fire of our love shall never goeout, Because it has more fuell: wood doth signify Morefuell.

The.

What the Cock?

Mop.

Better then t'other: That I shall crow ore those that are my rivalls, And roost my selfe with thee.

The.

But now the Goose?

Mop.

I, I the Goose, that likes me best of all, Th'ast heard our gray-b•…•…ard sheapherds talk of Rome, And what the Geese did there: The Goose doth signify That I shall keep thy Capit•…•…ll.

The.

Good gander!

Io.

—It cannot choose but strangely please his highnesse!

The.

What are you studying of Iocastus, ha?

Io.

A rare devise, a Masque to entertaine His Grace of Fairy with.

The.

A Masque? what i'st?

Io.

An Anti-masque of fleaes, which I have taught To dance Currantoes on a spiders thread.

Mop.

An Anti-masque of fleaes? brother me thinkes A masque of Birds were better, that could dance The morrice in the aire, Wrens and Robin-redbrests, Linnets, and Titmise.

Io.

So! and why not rather Your Geese & Wood-cocks? Mortall hold thy tongue, Thou dost not know the mystery.

The.

Tis true He tells you Mopsus, leave your Augurie, Follow his counsell, and be wise.

Mop.

Be wise? I skorne the motion! follow his counsell and be wise? That's a fine trick i'faith! is this an age

For to be wise in?

The.

Then you mean I see, T'expound the Oracle.

Mop.

I doe mean to be Th'interpreter.

Io.

—And then a jig of Pismires Is excellent.

Mop.

What to interpret Oracles? A foole must be th'interpreter.

The.

Then no doubt But you will have the honour.

Mop.

Nay I hope I am as faire for't as another man. If I should now grow wise against my will, And catch this wisdome!

The.

Never feare it Mopsus.

Mop.

Twere dangerous ventring. Now I think on't too Pray Heaven this aire be wholsome! is there not An antidote against it? what doe you think Of garlick every morning?

The.

Fy upon't, 'Twill spoile our kissing! and besides I tell you Garlick's a dangerous dish, eating of garlick May breed the sicknesse, for as I remember Tis the Phylosophers dyet.

Mop.

Certainly I am infected, now the fit's upon mee! Tis some thing like an ague, sure I caught it With talking with a Scholar next my heart.

The.

How sad a life live I,

Betwixt their folly and Amyntas madnesse! For Mopsus Ile prescribe you such a diet As shall secure you.

Mop.

Excellent she Doctor! Your women are the best Physitians, And have the better practice.

The.

First my Mopsus, Take heed of fasting, for your hungry meales Nurse wisdome.

Mop.

True! O what a stomach have I To be her patient!

The.

Besides, take speciall care You weare not thred-bare clothes: 'twill breed at least Suspicion you are wise.

Io.

I marry will it.

The.

And walke not much alone; or if you walke With company, be sure you walke with fooles, None of the wise.

Mop.

No, no I warrant you, Ile walke with no body but my brother here, Or you, or mad Amyntas.

The.

By all meanes Take heed of Travell, your beyond-sea wit Is to be feard.

Mop.

If ere I travell hang mee.

Io.

Not to the Fairy land?

The.

Thither he may. But above all things we are no beards, long beards Are signes the braines are full, because the excrements Come out so plentifully.

Io.

Rather empty, Because they have sent so much out, as if Their brains were sunk into their beards: King Oberon Has ne're a beard, yet for his wit I am sure He might have beene a Gyant. Who comes here?

Enter Dorylas.

Dor.

All haile unto the fam'd interpreter Of fowles and Oracles!

Mop.

Thankes good Dorylas.

Dor.

How fares the winged cattell? are the woodcocks, The jayes, the dawes, the cuckoes, and the owles In health?

Mop.

I thank the gracious starres they are!

Dor.

Like health unto the president of the jigs; I hope King Oberon and his joyall Mab Are. well.

Io.

They are, I never saw their Graces Eate such a meale before.

Dir.

E'ne much good doe't em!

Io.

They're rid a hunting.

Do.

Hare or Deere my Lord?

Io.

Neither, a brace of snailes of the first head.

The.

But Dorylas, there's a mighty quarrell here, And you are chosen umpire.

Dor.

About what?

The.

The exposition of the Oracle: Which of these two you think the verier foole.

Dor.

It is a difficult cause, first let me pose'em! You Mopsus, cause you are a learned Augur, How many are the seven Liberall Sciences?

Mop.

Why much about a dozen.

Dor.

You Iocastus, When Oberon shav'd himselfe, who was his Barber?

Io.

I knew him well, a little dapper youth, They call him Periwinckle.

Dor.

Thestylis, A weighty cause and askes a longer time.

The.

Wee'll in the while to comfort sad Amyntas.

Exeunt The. Mop. Io,

SCEN. 4.

• Dorylas.
• Laurinda.

Lau.

I wonder much that Dorylas staies so long, Faine would I heare whether they'l come or no.

Do.

Ha? would you so?

Lau.

I see in your own messages You can goe fast enough.

Dor.

Indeed forsooth, I loiter'd by the way.

Lau.

What, will they come?

Dor.

Which of them?

Lau.

Damon?

Dor.

No.

Lau.

Alexis will?

Dor.

Nor he.

Lau.

How, neither? am I then neglected?

Dor.

Damon will come.

Lau.

And not Alexis too?

Dor.

Only Alexis comes.

Lau.

Let him not come. I wonder who sent for him, unlesse both Ile speak with none.

Dor.

Why both will visit you.

Lau.

Both? one had been too many. Was e're Nymp•…•… So vex'd as I? you sawcy rascall you, How doe you strive to crosse me?

Dor.

And sweet Mistresse, Still I will crosse you, 'tis the only way Truely to please you.

SCENA 5.

Enter Medorus.

Medo.

So, you'l all please her, I wonder who'l please mee? you all for her Can run on errants, carry love-sick letters, And amorous eglogues from her howling suiters, To her, and back againe, be Cupids Heraulds, And point out meetings for her.

Dor.

Truly Sir, Not I, pray aske my Mistresse: Doe I call Your sweet-hearts—speak, nay speak it if you can, Doe I?

Lau.

Why no.

Do.

Nay say your worst I care not, Did I goe ever?

Lau.

Never.

Dor.

La-you now! We were devising nothing but a snare

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To catch the Pole-cat, Sirrah get you in; Take heed I doe not find your haunts.

Dor.

What haunts?

Med.

You'l in!

Dor.

I know no haunts I have but to the Dairy, To skimme the milke-bowles like a lickorish Fairy.

Exit Dor.

Me.

He that's a womans keeper, should have eyes A hundred more then Argus, and his eares Double the number: Now the newes, what letters? What posy, ring or bracelet wooes to day? What Grove to night is conscious of your whispers? Come tell mee, for I know your trusty squire, Your litle closet blabbes into your eare Some secret, let me know it.

Lau.

Then you feare, Least I should be in love.

Me.

Indeed I doe, Cupids a dangerous boy, and often wounds The wanton roving eye.

Lau.

Were I in love, Not that I am (for yet by Dian's bow I have not made my choice,) and yet suppose it, Suppose I say I were in love, What then?

Me.

So I would have thee, but not yet my Girle, Till loves prove happier, till the wretched Claius Hath satisfied the Gods.

Lau.

Why Claius, Father?

Me.

Hast thou not heard it?

Lau.

Never.

Me.

Tis impossible.

Lau.

How should I sir? you know that my discourse Is all with walls and pictures, I nere meet The Virgins on the downes.

Me.

Why I will tell thee, Thou knowest Pilumnus?

Lau.

The high Priest of Ceres?

Me.

Yes: This Pilumnus had a sonne Philaebus, Who was, while yet he was, the only joy The staffe and comfort of his fathers age, And might have still beene so, had not fond love Vndone him.

Lau.

How did love undoe Philaebus?

Me.

Why thus; one Lalage, a beauteous Nymph As ever eye admired, Alphestus daughter, Was by her father promis'd him in marriage.

Lau.

Why hitherto his love had good successe.

Me.

But only promis'd: for the sheapherd Claius, (A name accursed in Sicilian fields!) Being rich, obtain'd the beauteous Lalage From sweet Philaebus: he sad heart being rob'd, Of all his comfort, having lost the beauty Which gave him life and motion; seeing Claius Injoy those lips, whose cherries were the food That nurs'd his soule, spent all his time in sorrow, In melancholy sighes and discontents; Look'd like a witherd tree oregrowne with mosse, His eyes were ever dropping Iceacles. Disdaine and sorrow made Pilumnus rage, And in this rage, he makes his moane to Ceres,

(Ceres most sacred of Sicilian powers;) And in those moanes he prosecutes revenge, And that revenge to fall on Lalage.

Lau.

Would Ceres heare his praiers?

Me.

Silly maid, His passions were not causelesse; and with what justice Could she deny Pilumnus? how oft hath he sprinkled, The finest flowre of wheat, and sweetest myrrhe Vpon her Altars! Lalage ru'd the time She flowted brave Philaebus. Now she was great With two sweet twins, the faire chast Amaryllis, And mad Amyntas; (an unlucky paire!) These shee brought forth, but never liv'd to see them: Lucina caus'd her sorrowes stop her breath. Leaving this matchlesse paire of beauteous infants, In whom till now she lives.

Lau.

After her death, How far'd the sorrowfull Philaebus?

Me.

Worse Then ever: Shee being dead whose life was his, Whose lookes did hold his eyes from shutting up, He pin'd away in sorrowes, griefe it was To see she was not his, but greater farre That she was not at all. Her Exequies being past, He casts him down upon that turfe of earth, Vnder whose roofe his Lalage was hous'd, And parlied with her ashes, 'till his own lampe Was quite extinguish'd with a fatall dampe. Here ended th'noble sheapheard.

Lau.

Vnhappy lover!

Tis pitty but the Virgins once a yeare, Should wash his tombe with maiden teares! but now Both Lalage being dead and her Philebus, How comes it other loves should prove unfortunate?

Med.

Pilumnus having lost this hopefull Sonne, Though he had two more children, fair Vrania And noble Damon; yet the death of Lalage Suffic'd not his revenge, but he a new implores His goddesse wrath 'gainst Claius:—Doth Ceres prize me thus? Shall Claius tread upon the flowry Plaine, And walke upon the Ashes of my boy? Will I be Archyflamen where the Gods Are so remisse? let wolves approach their shrines; Their howlings are as powerfull as the Praiers Of sad Pilumnus!—Such disgusts at last Awaken'd Ceres: with hollow murmuring noise Her Ompha like a thunder'gins to roare. (The Ompha if it menace speakes at large In copious language, but perplexed termes.) And laid this curse on all Trinacria.

Sicilian swaines, ill luck shall long betide To every bridegroome, and to every bride: No sacrifice, no vow shall still mine Ire, Till Claius blood both quench and kindle fire. The wise shall misconceive me, and the wit Scornd, and neglected shall my meaning hit.

Lau.

Angry and Intricate! Alas for love! What then became of Claius?

Me.

Why the Ompha,

Having denounc'd against him, and he knowing The hate of old Pilumnus fled away, I think hee's sayl'd to the Antipodes. No tydings can be brought what ground receives him, Vnlesse Corymbus make a happy voyage; Corymbus that will search both East and Occident And when he finds him spill his captive blood. Which Ceres grant he may! Tender Laurinda Now dost thou see the reason of my care, And why my watchfull eyes so close observe Thy steps and actions.

Lau.

And I promise, father, To temper my affections, 'till the Goddesse Doe mitigate her anger.

Med.

Doe so then: For now you see with what unfortunate choice Pilumnus daughter, delicate Vrania loves The mad Amyntas: for the angry Goddesse, Though she repaid the wrong done to Philaebus, Yet not approving the reuengefull mind Of great Pilumnus, scourg'd him with his own asking, By threatning an unhappy marriage To his Vrania, unlesse he that wooes her Pay an impossible Dowry; for as others Give Portions with their daughters, Ceres Priests Vse to receive for theirs. The words are these,

That which thou hast not, mayst not, canst not have Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave▪ Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine To give Vrania this, and she is thine:

Which while the poore Amyntas would Interpret, He lost his wits. Take heed of love, Laurinda, You see th'unhappinesse of it in others; Let not experience in thy selfe instruct thee. Be wise my Girle: so come and follow me.

Exit.

Lau.

I'le make a Garland for my kid and follow you. What a sad tale was here? how full of sorrow? Happy that heart that never felt the shaft Of angry Cupid!

SCEN. 6.

• Damon
• Alexis.

—Damon and Alexis? Their presence quickly puts these cogitations Out of my mind: Poore soules, I fain would pity them, And yet I cannot, for to pity one Were not to pity t'other, and to pity Both were to pity neither. Mine old Temper Is all the shift I have; some dew of comfort To either of them. How now bold intruders, How dare you venter on my privacy? If you must needs have this walk, be it so! I'le seeke another: What? you'l let me goe?

Da.

Cruell Laurinda (if a word so foule Can have so faire a dwelling.) seale not up Thy eates, but let a pity enter there And find a passage to thy heart.

Alex.

Laurinda, (The name which but to speak I would not wish

For life or breath.) Let not thy powerfull beauty Torment us longer: Tell us which of us You value most.

Da.

And t'other, for old freindship Strangling his bitter Corrasive in his heart, Hath promis'd to desist from further suit.

Alex.

Or if he cannot so, as sure he cannot, Yet he will rather chuse to dye then live Once to oppose your liking.

Lau.

Since you are Growne so importunate, and will not be answer'd With modest silence; Know I wish you well.

Alex.

How, me Laurinda?

Lau.

Why I wish, Alexis, I were thy wife.

Da.

Then most unhappy me!

Alex.

That word doth relish immortalitie.

Lau.

And I doe wish thou wer't my husband, Damon

Alex.

Still more perplexed: what doe you think I am?

Lau.

My head, Alexis.

Da.

And what I?

Lau.

My heart.

Da.

Which hand am I?

Lau.

Damon, my right.

Alex.

Which I?

Lau.

My left, Alexis.

Alex.

Thus you scorne my love.

Lau.

Not I, Alexis: th'art my only hope.

Da.

Then I am all despaire, no hope for me.

Lau.

Why so my Damon? thou art my desire.

Alexis is my flame; Damon my fire. Alexis doth deserve my nuptiall Bed, And Damon's worthy of my Maidenhead!

Exit Lau.

Alex.

Damon, desist thy suit or loose thy life; Thou heard'st Laurinda wish she were my wife.

Da.

Thy wife, Alexis? But how can it be Without a Husband? and I must be he.

Alex.

I am her head: That word doth seeme t'impart She meanes my marriage.

Da.

How without her heart? For that am I: besides you heard her say I was the right hand you the left, away, Desist Alexis, mine's the upper hand.

Alex.

But, Damon, I next to her heart doe stand: I am her hope, in that you plainly see The end of her intents doth aime at me.

Da.

But I am her desire, in that 'tis showne Her only wish is to make me her owne.

Alex.

I am her flame.

Da.

'Tis true, but I her fire.

Alex.

The flames the hotter, therefore her desire Most aimes at mee.

Da.

Yet when the flame is spent, The fire continues; Therefore me she meant.

Alex.

She promis'd now I should injoy her Bed.

Da.

Alexis doe, so I her Maidenhead.

Alex.

I see she still conceales it, and with speeches Perplext and doubfull masks her secret thoughts.

Da.

Let's have another meeting, since her words

Delude us thus, wee'le haue a pregnant signe To shew her mind.

Alex.

I goe that way a hunting, And will call for her.

Da.

I'le the while retire Into the Temple, if I linger here I am afraid of meeting Amaryllis, Who with unwelcome love solicites me.

Alex.

And would she might preuaile!

Da.

Till then farewell.

Alex.

All happinesse to Damon be Except Laurinda.

Da.

All but her to thee.

Alex.

Thus we in love and courtesie contend.

Da.

The name of Rivall should not loose the Freind.

Exeunt.

Finis actus I.

ACTVS 2.

SCEN 1.

• Pilumnus
• Vrania.

Vra.

FAther perswade me not! The power of heaven Can never force me from Amyntas love; 'Tis rooted here so deepe within my heart That he which pulls it out, pulls out at once, That and my soule together.

Pil.

Fond Vrania, Can ignorant love make thee affect the seede, The hatefull seede of cursed Lalage? Did I for this beget thee?

Vra.

Father, you know

Divinitie is powerfull, Cupids will Must not be question'd: When love meanes to sport (I'have heard your selfe relate it) he can make The Wolfe and Lambe kisse friendly; force the Lyon T'forget his Majestie, and in amorous dalliance Sport with the frisking Kid. When Venus rides, Shee'le linke the ravenous Kite, and milder Swan To the same chariot, and will yoak together The necks of Doves and Eagles; when as shee Commands, all things loose their Antipathie, Even contrarieties: can I alone Resist her will? I cannot, my Amynt as Shall witnesse that!

Pil.

I blame thee not so much For loving him, while yet he was Amynt as. But being mad and having lost himselfe, Why shouldst not thou loose thy affection too▪

Vra.

I love him now the rather; he hath lost Himselfe for me, and should he loose me too? It were a sinne he should!

Pil.

What canst thou love In his distemper'd wildnesse?

Vra.

Only that, His wildnesse; 'tis the comfort I have left To make my teares keepe time to his distractions; To think as wildl•…•… as he talks; to marry Our griefs together, since our selves we cannot. The Oracle doth aske so strange a Dowry, That now his company is the only blisse My love can aime at: but I stay too long

I'le in to comfort him.

Pil.

Doe not Vrania.

Vra.

Doe not? I must and will; Nature commands me no, But Love more powerfull sayes it shall be so.

Exit.

Pil.

The Gods did well to make their Destinies Of woemen, that their wills might stand for law Fixt and unchang'd; who's this? Corymbus? he.

SCEN. 2.

• Pilumnus.
• Corymbus.

Pil.

Corymbus—welcome!

Cor.

Sacred Pilumnus—hayle! And fruitfull Sicilie I kisse thy dust—

Pil.

What newes Corymbus? Is our Countrie's Mischeif Fetter'd in chaines?

Cor.

Thrice the sunne hath past Through the twelve Inns of heaven, since my diligence Has been imploy'd in quest of him, whose death Must give poore lovers life, the hatefull Claius; Yet could I ne're heare of him:—The meane while How fare the poore Sicilians? Does awfull Ceres Still bend her angry brow? Find the sad Lovers No rest, no quiet yet?

Pil.

Corymbus none! The Goddesse has not yet deign'd to accept One sacrifice, no favourable Echo Resounded from her Omp•…•…a; All her answers Are full, and doubtfull.

Cor.

The true signe, Pilumnus, Her wrath is not appeas'd.

Pil.

Appeas'd say you? Rather againe incens'd so farre, Corymbus, As that my selfe am plagu'd; My poore Vrania Dotes on Amyntas.

Cor.

First shall our hives swarme in the venemous yew, And Goats shall browze upon our myrtle wands! —One of your blood, Pilumnus, (is it possible) Love Lalage and Claius brood?

Pil.

The chaine of fate Will have it so! And he lov'd her as much.

Cor.

That makes it something better.

Pil.

Ah, thou knowest not What sting this waspish fortune pricks me with! I seeing their loves so constant, so inflexible, Chid with dame Ceres if sheus'd me thus. My words were inconsiderate, and the heavens Punish'd my rough expostulations: Being Archiflamen of Trinacria I did demand a Dowry of that sheapheard That askes my daughter:—Set the price said I, Thou Goddesse, that dost cause such hatefull loves; If that Amyntas be thy darling swaine, Aske thou, and set a Dowry for Vrania: With that the Altar groan'd, my haire grew stiffe, Amyntas look'd agast; Vrania quiver'd, And the Ompha answer'd

Cor.

With an Echo;

Pil.

No.

Co.

Then I presage some ill!

Pi.

This darke demand, That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have, Amyntas, is the dowry that I crave: Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine To give Vrania this and she is thine.

And so he did, but the perplexed sense Troubled his braines so farre, he lost his wits; Yet still he loves, and shee,—my griefe Corymbus Will not permit me to relate rest! I'le in into the Temple, and expresse What's yet behinde in teares.

Exit.

Corym.

Sad sad Pilumnus! And most distress'd Sicilians! Other nations Are happy in their loves, you only are unfortunate! In all my travelles ne'r a spring but had Her paire of lovers, singing to that musique The gentle bubling of her waters made. Never a walke unstor'd with amorous couples, Twind with so close imbraces, as if both Me ant to growe one together! every shade Sheltred some happy loves, that counting dazies Scor'd up the summes on one another lips, That met so oft and close, as if they had Chang'd soules at every kisse. The married sort As sweet and kind as they: at every evening The loving husband and full▪ brested wife Walk'd on the Downs so friendly, as if that Had been their wedding day. The boies of five, And girles of foure, e're that their lisping tongues

Had learn'd to prattle plaine, would prate of love, Court one another, and in wanton dalliance Returne such innocent kisses, you'd have thought You had seene Tur les billing.

SCEN. 3.

• Mopsus.
• Corymbus.

Mop.

What aire is that? The voice of—Turtles billing! Of Turtles! a good Omen! shee is chast— And billing, billing, o delicious billing! That word presages kissing.—

Co.

Who is this? Mopsus, my learned Augur?

Mop.

Stand aside, —The other side; I will not talke to thee Vnlesse I have the winde.

Co.

Why, whats the matter Mopsus?

Mop.

Th'art infected;

Co.

What with the Plague?

Mop.

Worse then the Plague, the Wisdom! You have been in travell, & that's dangerous For getting Wisdome.

Co.

Then nere feare it, Mopsus, For I come home a foole just as I went.

Mop.

By Ceres?

Co.

Yes.

Mop.

By Ceres welcome then!

Co.

But Mopsus, why doe you walke here alone! That's—dangerous too!

Mop.

I: but I come to meet The Cittizens of the aire; you have heard my skill In augury?

Co.

Why I have heard your name Not mention'd any where in all my Travailes.

Mop.

How? not mention'd?

Co.

—Yo'are to hasty Mopsus, Not—without admiration.

Mop.

I know that.

Co.

How should you know it?

Mop.

Why some birds or other, Fly from all countries hither, and they tell mee.

Co.

But how dare you converse with birds that travell?

Mop.

With an antidote I may: but my Corymbus What strange birds have you seene beyond seas?

Cor.

Brave ones: Ladies with fans and feathers! dainty Fowles! There were brave taking Augury.

Mop.

But, Corymbus, Are those fine Lady-birds such pretty things?

Co.

As tame as sparrowes, and as sweet as Nightingals.

Mop.

Is the Cocklady-bird, or the Henlady-bird The better?

Co.

All are hens.

Mop.

O admirable! Would you had brought me one! but whats the Fan?

Co.

A fan's a—wing of one side.

Mop.

Delicate! And what's their Feather?

Co.

Like the copple-crowne

The Lap-wing has:

Mop.

The Lap-wing? then they 'l—ly.

Co.

With men they will;

Mop.

Delicious Lady-birds! But have they such brave traines, such curious tailes As our birds have?

Co.

Like Peacocks, there's the head Of all their pride.

Mop.

Nay 'tis the taile, Corymbus, Surely these things you call the Lady-birds Are the true birds of Paradice!

Enter Corymbus's carriages.

Co.

Very right— Mopsus, I cannot stay, I must attend My carriage to the Temple: gentle Mopsus Farewell!

Exit.

Mop.

Farewell Corymbus! By my troth I never long'd for any thing in my life So much as Lady-birds; dainty Lady-birds! I would fetch one of them; but I dare not travell For fear I catch the wisdome. O sweet Lady-birds! With copple crownes, and wings but on one side! And tailes like Peacocks! curious Lady-birds!

SCEN. 4.

• Amyntas.
• Vrania.
• Amaryllis.
• manet Mopsus.

Amyn.

That which I have not, may not, cannot have!— It is the moone! Vrania, thou shalt weare The horned Goddesse at thy beauteous eare.

—Come hither Pegasus, I will mount thy back, And spurre thee to her orbe.

Mop.

Oh good Amyntas!

Amyn.

—Why, art thou foundred Pegasus? Amaryllis, Fetch him a peck of provender.

Vra.

Sweet Amyntas!

Amy.

What saies my Cytherea? wouldst thou eat A golden Apple? if thou wilt, by Venus I'le rob th' Hesperian Orchard.

Mop.

Ha ha he!

Amyn.

Ha? dost thou laugh old Charon? firrah sculler, Prepare thy boat!

Ama.

For what? deere brother speake!

Amyn.

Art thou my sister Helen? were we hatchd In the same egshell?—Is your cock-boat ready?

Mop.

It is, an't please your Worship.

Amyn.

Very well! Row me to hell!—no faster? I will have thee Chain'd unto Pluto's gallies!

Vra.

Why to hell, My deere Amyntas?

Amy.

Why? to borrow mony!

Ama.

Borrow there?

Amy.

I there! they say there be more Vsurers there Then all the world besides:—see how the windes Rise! Puffe—puffe Boreas.—what a cloud comes yonder? Take heed of that wave Charon! ha? give mee The oares!—so so: the boat is overthrown, Now Charons drown'd: but I will swim to shore—

Vra.

O Ceres, now behold him! canthy eyes Looke on so sad an object, and not melt Them and thy heart to pitty?

Ama.

How this greefe Racks my tormented soule? but the neglect Of Damon more afflicts mee: the whole Senate Of heaven decrees my ruine.

Vra.

And mine too. Come Amaryllis let's weepe both together, Contending in our sorrowes!

Ama.

Would to Ceres That I were dead!

Vra.

And I had nere been borne!

Ama.

Then had not I been wretched!

Vra.

Then Amyntas Might have been happy.

Mop.

Nay if you begin Once to talke wisely, 'Tis above high time, That I were gone: farewell Bellerophon! I must goe seek my Thestylis; shee's not here.

Exit.

Amy.

My armes are weary;—now I sinke I sinke! Farewell Vrania.—

Ama.

Alas what strange distraction, Tosse his distemperd braine!

Vra.

Yet still his love to me Lives constant.

Amy.

Styx I thank thee! That curld wave Hath tos'd mee on the shore.—come Sysiphus. I'le rowle thy stone a while: mee thinkes this labour Doth looke like Love! does it not so, Tysiphone?

Ama.

Mine is that restlesse toile.

Amy.

I'st so, Erynnis? You are an idle huswife, goe and spin At poore Ixions wheele!

Vra.

Amyntas.

Amyn.

Ha? Am I known here?

Vra.

Amyntas, deere Amyntas—

Amyn.

Who calls Amyntas? beauteous Proserpine? Tis shee.—Fair Empresse of th' Elysian shades, Ceres bright daughter intercede for mee, To thy incensed mother: prithee bid her Leave talking riddles, wilt thou?

Vra.

How shall I Apply my selfe to his wild passions!

Ama.

Seeme to be What he conceives you.

Amy.

Queene of darknesse, Thousupreme Lady of eternall night, Grant my petitions! wilt thou beg of Ceres That I may have Vrania?

Vra.

Tis my praier, And shall be ever, I will promise thee Shee shall have none but him.

Amyn.

Thankes Proserpine!

Vra.

Come sweet Amyntas, rest thy troubled head Here in my lap:—Now here I hold at once My sorrow and my comfort: Nay ly still.

Amyn.

I will: but Proserpine—

Vra.

Nay, good Amyntas.—

Amy.

Should Pluto chance to spy me, would not hee Be jealous of me?

Vran.

No.

Amy.

Tysiphone, Tell not Vrania of it, least she feare I am in love with Proserpine: doe not Fury!

Ama.

I will not.

Vra.

Pray ly still!

Amy.

You Proserpine, There is in Sicilie the fairest Virgin That everblest the land, that ever breath'd, Sweeter then Zephyrus! didst thou never heare Of one Vrania?

Vr.

Yes.

Amy.

This poore Vrania Loves an unfortunate sheapheard, one that's mad, Tysiphone, Canst thou believe it? Elegant Vrania (I cannot speak it without teares) still loves Amyntas, the distracted mad Amyntas. I'st not a constant Nymph?—But I will goe And carry all Elysium on my back, And that shall be her joynture.

Vra.

Good Amyntas, Rest here a while!—

Amy.

Why weepe you Proserpine?

Vr.

Because Vrania weepes to see Amyntas So restlesse and unquiet.

Amy.

Does shee so? Then will I ly as calme as doth the sea,

When all the winds are lock'd in Aeolus jayle: I will not move a haire, not let a nerve Or Pulse to beat, least I disturbe her! Hush,— Shee sleepes!

Vra.

And so doe you.

Amy.

You talk too loud, You'l waken my Vrania:

Vra.

If Amyntas, Her deere Amyntas would but take his rest, Vrania could not want it.

Amy.

Not so loud!

Ama.

What a sad paire are wee?

Vra.

How miserable? Hee that I love is not!—

Ama.

And he that I Doe love, loves not; or, if he love, not mee.

Vra.

I have undone Amyntas!

Ama.

And my Damon Has undone me.

Vr.

My kindnesse ruin'd him.

Ama.

But his unkindnesse, me; unhappy me!

Vra.

More wretched I, for Damon has his reason, And he may love.

Ama.

But does not: thy Amyntas Returnes thee mutuall love.

Vra.

True, Amaryllis, But he has lost his reason; mine has love, No reason.

Ama.

Mine has reason, but no love. O mee!

Vra.

My Amaryllis, how thy griefes Meete full with mine to make the truest story Of perfect sorrow that ere eye bedew'd With teares of Pitty!

Ama.

Come Vrania: Let's sit together like two marble monuments Of ever weeping misery—

Enter Damon.

Da.

Minds in love, Doe count their daies by minutes, measure howres By every sand that drops through the slow glasse; And for each vie a teare.

Ama.

If so, my Damon, How many times hath thy unkindnesse ruin'd Sad Amaryllis? every frowne is mortall.

Dam.

Ill luck, to seeke my love and finde my hate!

Ama.

Be not so cruell to mee! Gentle Damon, —Accept this witnesse of my love, it is The story of poore Ech•…•…, tha•…•… for love Of her Narcissus pin'd into a voice.

Da.

Doe thou so too!

Ama.

Damon, suppose I should, And then the Gods for thy contempt of mee Should plague thee like Narcissus.

Da.

Amaryllis, They cannot doe it: I have fixt my love So firme on my Laurinda, that for her I e're shall hate my selfe?

Ama.

—. Prithee love accept it, 'Twas wrought by mine own hand

Da.

For that I hate it!

Vra.

Fy Brother, can you be of the same stock, Issue, and bloud with mee, and yet so cruell?

Da.

Nor can I, sister, dote like you on any That is the cursed brat of Lalage.

Amy.

Saist thou so Centaure?—

Vra.

Good Amyntas hold, This is the Sacred Vally: here 'tis death, For to shed human blood.

Da.

Still idly you complaine To crosse mee, Amaryllis, but in vaine!

Exit.

Ama.

O, I am sick to death!

Amy.

What a brave show The monsters braines would make?

SCEN. 5.

• Thestylis.
• Mopsus.
• Amyntas.
• Amaryllis.
• Vrania.

Ama.

My griefe o're weighs me!

The.

How fares my Amaryllis?

Ama.

Like a Taper Allmost burnt out: sometimes all a darknesse, And now and then a flash or two of comfort, But soone blown out againe. Ah Thestylis, I cannot long subsist. For thee vain's labour; Away! I hate thee cause my Damon does, And for that reason too I hate my selfe, And every thing but him!

Vra.

Come my sad partner,

Poore rivall of my sorrowes: Goe with mee Into the Temple; I'le intreat my Brother To use thee kindly: if in mee it lye, I'le helpe thee.

Ama.

Doe Vrania, or I dye.

Exeunt Vrania, Amaryl.

• Amyntas.
• Thestylis.
• Mopsus.

The.

What a strange thing is Love!

Amy.

It is a madnesse: See how it stares?—Have at thee thou blind Archer! —O I have mist him!—now I'le stand thee Cupid! Looke how the rascall winkes a one eye, Thestylis! Nay draw your arrow home boy! just i'th heart! —O I am slaine!

Thest.

Amyntas.

Amy.

Dost not see? My blood runs round about mee, I lye soaking In a red Sea, take heed! see Thestylis, Whata fine Crimson 'tis?

Mop.

Where?

Amy.

Here you puppet! Dost thou not see it?

Mop.

Yes I see it playne, But I spy nothing.

Amy.

Then thou art a mole.

Mop.

Now I looke better on't, I see it plaine; Does it not not hurt you?

Amy.

Strangely! Have at thee— How think you now?

The.

Be quiet good Amyntas.

Mop.

You'l fright away the birds else, and clean spoile My augury.

Amyn,

Goe about it, I am quiet!

Mop.

Now for some happy Omen!

a Cuckoe Cries.

Amy.

Ha, ha, he!

Mop.

Why laughs the madman?

Amy.

Who can choose but laugh? The bird cried Hornes!

The.

What happinesse portends it, Sweet Mopsus?

Mop.

Constancy in Love, my Thestylis, This bird is alwaies in a note.

The.

Most excellent.

Mop.

Bird of the spring I thank thee! Mopsus thanks thee.

Amy.

This is a man of skill, an Oedipus, Apollo, Reverent Phoebus, Don of Delphos.

Mop.

What a brave man am I?

Amy.

Thou canst resolve By thy great Art all questions: What is that, That which I have not, may not, cannot have?

Mop.

That which you have not, may not, cannot have? It is my skill, you cannot have my skill.

Amy.

Where lies that skill?

Mop.

Lies? here within this noddle.

Amy.

Fetch me my wood-knife I will cut it off, And send it to Vrania for a dowry.

Mop.

No, no I am deceiv'd, it is not that.

Amy.

You dolt, you asse, you cuckoe:

Mop.

Good Amyntas.

SCEN. 6.

Dorylas.

Mopsus. Iocastus. Thestylis. Amyntas.

Io.

Ist not a brave sight Dorylas? can the mortalls Caper so nimbly!

Dor.

Verily they cannot!

Io.

Does not King Oberon beare a stately presence? Mab is a beauteous Empresse.

Do.

Yet you kiss'd her With admirable courtship.

Io.

I doe think There will be of Iocastus brood in Fairy.

Mop.

You Cuckold-maker, I will tell King Oberon You lye with Mab his wife!

Io.

Doe not good brother, And I'le wooe Thestylis for thee.

Mop.

Doe so then.

Io.

Canst thou love Mopsus, mortall?

The.

Why suppose I can sir, what of that?

Io.

Why then be wise, And love him quickly!

Mop.

Wise? then I'le have none of her, that's the way To get wise children, 'troth and I had rather They should be bastards.

Amy.

No, the children may Be like the Father.

Io.

True distracted Mortall: Thestylis, I say love him hee's a foole.

Dor.

But we will make him rich, then 'tis no matter.

The.

But what estate shall he assure upon mee?

Io.

A Royall joynture all in Fairy land.

Amy.

Such will I make Vrania!

Io.

Dorylas knowes it, A curious Parke.

Do.

Pal'd round about with Pick-teeth.

Io.

Besides a house made all of mother of Pearle; An Ivory Teniscourt.

Dor.

A nutmeg Parlour.

Io.

A Saphyre dary-roome.

Do.

A Ginger hall.

Io.

Chambers of Agate.

Do.

Kitchins all of Christall.

Am.

O admirable! This is it for certaine!

Io.

The jacks are gold.

Do.

The spits are Spanish needles.

Io.

Then there be walkes

Do.

Of Amber.

Io.

Curious orchards.

Do.

That bear as well in winter as in summer.

Io.

Bove all the fishponds! every pond is full,

Do.

Of Nectar: will this please you? every grove Stor'd with delighfull birds.

Mop.

But be there any Lady-birds there.

Io.

Abundance.

Mop.

And Cuckoes too To presage constancy?

Do.

Yes.

The.

Nay then lets in To seale the writings.

Amy.

There boy, so, ho, ho.

Exeunt.

Do.

What pretty things are these both to be borne To Lands and Livings, we poore witty knaves, Have no inheritance but Braines:—who's this?

Enter Alexis.

—One of my Mistresse beagles.

Ale.

Dorylas, I have had the bravest sport.

Do.

In what, Alexis?

Al.

In hunting, Dorylas: a brace of Grayhounds cours'd a stag With equall swiftnesse till the wearied deere, Stood bay at both alike: the fearfull doggs Durst neither fasten.

Do.

So, and did not you Compare the stag to my fair mistresse? ha! Pursued by you and Damon, caught by neither?

Ale.

By Cupid th'art i'th right.

Dor.

Alas poore whelpes, In troth I pitty you! Why such a hunting Have we had here: Two puppies of a litter, Mopsus and wise Iocastus hunting folly With a full mouth.

Alex.

I much wonder, Dorylas, Amyntas can be sad, having such follies To provoke mirth.

Do.

And to that end his sister Keepes them about him; but in vaine, his Melancholy

Has took so deepe impression.

Enter Damon.

Da.

My Alexis Well met, I'ave been at your cottage to seeke you.

Alex.

But I am ne're at home; Thou and I, Damon, Are absent from our selves.

Do.

Excellent application! To see the wit of love!

Da.

Let us goe seeke her, To have a finall judgement.

Alex.

That may end One of our miseries, and the others life!

Do.

O lamentable! who would be in love?

Da.

Content.

SCEN. 7.

• Laurinda.
• Dorylas.
• Alexis.
• Damon.

Da.

Here comes my joy or death.

Do.

O pittifull!

Al.

My sweet affliction.

Do.

Pittifully sweet! Nere feare your father, Mistresse, kisse securely, I'le be your Mercury, and charme a sleepe Old Argus.

Lau.

Doe.

Do.

But if he chance to spy You and your sweet-hearts here, I know not of it.

Lau.

You doe not!

Do.

Nay you know if I had seene them,

I should have told him.

Lau.

Y'are a trusty servant.

Do.

Poore Dorylas is blind, he sees not here Damon, no nor Alexis.

Lau.

No not hee!

Do.

Alack I am innocent: if the belly swell I did not fetch the poyson.

Lau.

No, begone.

Exit Dorylas.

Da.

Laurinda now for mercy sake give period To our long miseries.

Alex.

Now you are like cruell To both, and play the tyrant equally, On him you hate as much as him you love.

Da.

Depriving one the comfort of his joy.

Ale.

The other the sure remedy of his death!

Lau.

Damon you have a Love, fair Amaryllis, Content your selfe with her.

Da.

I'le rather kisse An Ethiops crisped lip: imbrace a Viper! Deformity it selfe to her is fair.

Al.

Damon thou hast thy answer.

Lau.

And Alexis, There be in Sicilie many Virgins more Worthy your choice: why did you plac't on mee? Goe seeke some other.

Alex.

O those words to me Are Poyson.

Da.

But to me an Antidote.

Al.

Thus she gave life to me to tak't away:

Da.

And me she slew to raise me up againe:

You shall not slight us thus, what doe you thinke Of mee?

Lau.

Thou art the glory of the woods.

Alex.

And what am I?

Lau.

The pride of all the Plaines.

Ale.

These your ambiguous termes have now too oft Deluded us.

Da.

Shew by some signe which of us You have design'd for happinesse.

Lau.

So I will.

Shee takes Damon's Garland and weares it on her own head: and puts her own on Alexis.

Damon, as I affect thee, so I vow To wear this Garland that adornes thy brow. This wreath of flowres, Alexis, which was mine Because thou lov'st me truly, shall be thine. This is plain dealing; let not Cupid's warres Drive your affections to uncivill jarres!

Exit.

Exit.

Da.

Now happy Damon shee thy Garland weares That holds thy heart chain'd in her golden haires!

Alex.

Most blessed I! this Garland once did twine About her head that now imbraces mine.

Dam.

Desist Alexis, for shee deignes to have The Garland that was mine.

Alex.

But me she gave That which was hers.

Da.

Tis more to take then give.

Alex.

I think 'tis greater kindnesse to receive.

Da.

By this your share's the lesse, you but receive.

Al.

And by your argument, yours you did but give▪

Love is the Garland.

Da.

Then shee did approve Of my affection best, shee took my love.

Ale.

Fond Damon, she accepted love frō thee, But what is more, she gave her love to mee; In giving that to mee, she proves my right.

Do.

Why took she mine, but meaning to requite?

Alex.

I will dispute no more.

Da.

Then let our speares Plead for us,

Alex.

And determine of our feares. Come Damon, by this argument let us prove, Which tis of us Laurinda best doth love.

Da.

Yet tis, Alexis, clean against our oath.

Ale.

True, Damon, and perchance may ruine both▪

Da.

So neither shall enjoy her.

Ale.

Cruell breath! Besides this is the Sacred Vale, tis death To staine the hallowed grasse but with one drop Of humane blood.

Da.

So both should loose their hope!

Ale.

And which is more, 'tis against her commands.

Da.

Whose every breath has powre to stay our hands.

Ale.

Wee'l have her answer make a certain end.

Da.

Till then, Alexis, let me be thy friend.

Ale.

Come Damon, lets together seeke reliefe.

Da.

Tis fit, being Rivalls both in love and griefe.

Finis Actus secundi.

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ACTVS 3.

SCEN 1.

• Damon.
• Alexis.
• Laurinda.

Dam.

LAurinda, by thy selfe, the sweetest oath That can be sworn,

Ale.

By those faire eyes, whose light Comfort my soule;

Dam.

Whose heat inflameth mine;

Ale.

Vnlesse you deigne at length to end our strife,

Da.

We both have vow'd to sacrifice our life,

Ale.

On one anothers speare.

Lau.

What shall I doe? I find an equall warre within my soule, My selfe divided; now I would say Damon, Another time Alexis, then againe Damon, and then Alexis: like a sheapheard That sees on either hand a ravenous wolfe, One snatching from his ewe a tender Lamb, The other watching for a gentle Kid, Knowes not poore soule which hand to turne to first. Now he would save his Lamb; but seeing his Kid Halfe in the jaw of death, turnes back in hast To reseue that, where viewing then his Lamb In greater danger, runs to that again; As doubtfull which to save as which to loose: So fares it now with me. But love instruct mee!

Da.

Resolve.

Ale.

Or wee'l resolve.

Lau.

No trick left yet?

Enter Dorylas.

Dor.

If ever one was pepper'd looke on mee!

Lau.

Why whats the matter?

Do.

You talke of Love and Cupid, I have been plagu'd with a whole swarme of Cupids.

Ale.

what should this meane?

Do.

I know not, but I am sure I have a thousand naturall rapiers Stick in my flesh!

Da.

The meaning of the riddle?

Ale.

The morall?

Do.

In plain tearmes I have been driving One of your swarmes of Bees, gentle Laurinda;

Lau.

The purest waxe give Damon: and, good swaine, The hony to Alexis: This is plain.

Do.

Now will the hony and the wax fall together by th'eares.

Da.

Alexis, this plain signe confirmes her grant, She gave me waxe to seale the covenant.

Do.

Well argu'd for the waxe, now for the hony.

Ale.

To me she gave the hony, that must be The sweetest, and the sweetest sweet is shee.

Do.

The hony is the sweeter argument.

Da.

But by the waxe she saies that she from none But mee will take true loves impression.

Do.

The waxe is very forward to the bargain; He would be sealing of her.

Ale.

But plain the hony speakes, no other guest But I, shall tast in her a lovers feast.

Do.

Delicious reason, my mouth waters at it▪

Dam.

The waxe must make the Taper that must light The wedded paire to bed on Hymen's night: Besides 'tis virgins waxe, by that you see To me she destinies her virginity.

Do.

Two excellent twin-arguments borne at a birth.

Ale.

And hony shewes a wedding; that must knead A cake for Hymen ere we goe to bed. Take you the waxe; the hony is for mee, There is no hony in the world but shee.

Dor.

His disputation still has some good relish in't.

Da.

I see, Alexis, all Laurinda's bees Serve but to sting us both.

Dor.

Now, what's the matter? The morall?

Lau.

See what 'tis to live a maid! Now two at once doe serve us and adore, Shee that weds one, serves him, serv'd her before.

Da.

Alexis come!

Al.

Come Damon!

Da.

Cure my feare.

Al.

There's no helpe left but in a Pelian speare!

Lau.

O stay your hands, for by my maidenhead;—

Dor.

Happy the man shall quit her of that oath.

Ale.

Most happy Dorylas!

Do.

I knew that before!

Lau.

I have protested never to disclose Which 'tis that best I love: But the first Nymph, As soone as Titan guilds the Easterne hills, And chirping birds, the Saints-bell of the day, Ring in our eares a warning to devotion.

That lucky damsell what so e're she be Shall be the Goddesse to appoint my love, To say, Laurinda this shall be your choice: And both shall sweare to stand to her award!

Both.

By fair Laurinda's hand we swear.

Lau.

Till then Be friends, and for this night it is my pleasure You sleep like friendly Rivalls arme in arme.

Both.

Thankes to the fair Laurinda!

Al.

Come Damon, you this night with me shall rest.

Da.

Wert thou but my Laurinda I were blest.

Exeunt Damon. Alexis.

Dor.

Mistresse, if they should dreame now.—

Lau.

And they should?

SCEN. 2.

• Amaryllis.
• Vrania.
• Doryllis.
• Laurinda.

Vra.

Sweet Amaryllis!

Ama.

Stay me not Vrania!

Do.

More Cupids, more bees, more stinging yet!

Ama.

Dishevel'd haire, poore ornament of the head I'le teare you from my crowne! what dost thou here? Weake chaines! my pride presum'd you had a powre To fetter Heroes! and in amorous Gives Lead any sheapheard captive!

Vra.

Amaryllis.

Ama.

But Damon breakes thee like a spiders loome! And thou poore face that wer't so oft beli'de For fair and beauteous, by my flattering glasse;

I'le teare those crimson roses from my cheekes, That but my selfe nere yet inchanted any. My will is fixt!

Lau.

Where goe you, Amaryllis?

Ama.

Since Damon hates my life I'le goe and see If I can please him in my death: if hee'le but deigne To kisse me, and accept my latest breath, I shall salute the Gods a happy soule. —This dart I'le give him; and upon my knees▪ Beg till I have obtain'd to dye by him: Death from that hand is welcome.

Lau.

I will shew you A way most probable to redeeme his love.

Ama.

I shall wrong you, Laurinda! No injoy him, The treasure of the Earth: my latest words Shall be praiers for you: mild Vrania, Sister in blood to Damon, not in affection, Nymph take this whistle, 'twas a Tritons once, With which I call my Lamb-kins when they stray; 'Tis Amaryllis last bequeathment to you.

Vra.

Live happy sheapheardesse and weare it still!

Ama.

Laurinda, my great legacy is yours, Gentle-ungentle Damon.

Lau.

I re▪bequeath him to my Amarylis: Come therefore amorous maid, be rul'd by mee; This night wee'le sleepe together.

Do.

And shee too Should dreame of Damon.—

Lau.

Dorylas, goe to Thestylis •…•…▪excuse her this nights absence, Amaryllis

Wenches are nere so witty as a bed, And two together make a statesmans head. —Begon to Thestylis.

Do.

So, I am sure Still Cupids factor: well ere long I see There will be many an heire the more for mee.

Vra.

My Bellamore y'are under good protection; The Temple gates will close unlesse I hast.

Lau.

Vrania, a happy night unto you!

Vra.

The like to her that ipitties the distressed Ama∣ryllis.

Exeunt Lau. Ama. Vrania.

Dor.

So so, this hony with the very thought Has made my mouth so lickorish that I must Have something to appease the appetite. Have at Iocastus orchard! dainty Apples, How lovely they looke! Why these are Dorylas sweet-hearts. Now must I be the Princely Oberon, And in a royall humour with the rest Of royall Fairies attendant goe in state To rob an orchard: I have hid my robes On purpose in a hollow tree. Heaven blesse mee! What Pucke, what Goblins this?

• Claius.
• Dorylas.

Cla.

Thrice Sacred Valley, I kisse thy hallowed Earth!

Do.

Another lover, Enamour'd of the Ground!

Cl.

Faine would I speake And aske for Amaryllis: but my feare

Will not permit mee.

Do.

Slid; I thinke he takes mee For Oberon already.

Cl.

Youth, can you tell mee How I may speak to night with Amaryllis?

Da.

Age, by no meanes to night: this night shee lodges With fair Laurinda, old Medorus daughter.

Cl.

Can you instruct me then how I may meet Amyntas?

Do.

Who, the madman? Every evening He walkes abroad into the vallie here With Thestylis. Farewell old walking Ivibush.

Exit Dor.

Claius solus.

Cla.

I see the smoake steame from the Cottage tops, The fearfull hus wife rakes the embers up. All hush to bed. Sure no man will disturbe mee. O blessed vally! I the wretched Claius Salute thy happy soyle, I that have liv'd Pelted with angry curses in a place As horrid as my griefes, the Lylibaean mountaines, These sixteene frozen winters, there have I Beene with rude out-lawes, living by such sinnes As runne o'th' score with justice 'gainst my prayers & wishes. And when I would have tumbled down a rock, Some secret powre restrain'd me: There I lately heard By a disconsolate Pilgrim that sought death, That my Amyntas wits (ah me!) were marr'd.

Twas not a time to thinke to save my selfe When my poore boy was lost. Lost said I?—O Phoebus, If there be soveraigne power in juice of hearbs, And that the teeming earth yeeld medicinall flowres To cure all maladies, I have sought the skill; No leafe no root hath scap'd mee: I may boast it, I have been natures diligent Apothecary. Be lucky my emplaister! I have temper'd The surest Recipe the worlds garden yeelds; 'Twould put Orestes in his wits again. I know I step upon my death: the Oracle Desires my blood for sacrifice, and Pilumnus For his old hate still seekes it: make long stay I dare not, only I desire t'apply My medicine and be gone. Who's this I spy?

SCEN. 3.

• Thestylis.
• Amyntas.
• Mopsus.

—I doe remember now that countenance; It is my sister Thestylis, I'le stand close T'observe their actions.

The.

Would to Ceres She would be pleas'd at length to end her anger, And pitty poore Amyntas!

Cl.

So pray I.

Amy.

I have the bravest spaniell in the world, Of a sharpe sent and quick. so ho ho, so ho ho! Ringwood, Iowler, Whitefoot, so ho ho! so ho ho!

Mop.

I shall be a whole kennell of dogs anon.

Amy.

Iuno, Vulcan, Venus! so ho ho, so ho ho!

Mop.

Lord what a heavenly puppy he makes me now!

Amy.

There Lady there!

Mop.

Ha? be their Lady-dogs as well as Lady-birds too!

Amy.

Beauty, Beauty.

Mop.

Slid I was never cal'd that name before: Thestylis, Amyntas calls me Beauty, I prethee come kisse mee.

The.

Thus I spend my life Laughing amidst my teares.

Amy.

Now Vertue Vertue!

Mop.

Is that a dogs name too? would I were hang'd If I'le have any of it for that trick.

Amy.

Dost thou not sent it yet? Close, close you rogue! By Pan the curre hunts counter.

Mop.

Oh good master! Bow wow, bow wow wow—

Amyn.

So now he has't again. What at a fault you mungrell? will you never Start me this Oracle?

Mop.

Start an Oracle? As if an Oracle were a hare?

Amy.

So 'tis, And skuds away so swift we cannot take it. Start me this Oracle.

Mop.

Start it who's will for mee, For I'le not start it.

Amy.

Then unkennell it.

Mop.

Vnkennell it?

Amy.

I, tis a Foxe a Foxe, A cunning crafty rogue: no body knowes

Which way to finde him. ha? what sent is this? Dost thou not smell?

Mop.

What?

Amy.

The meaning of the Oracle? Vnkennell it, or I will lease thee.

Mop.

Good sir, I have no skill in starting or unkennelling, But if you'l have me spring an Oracle.—

Amy.

And wilt thou doe it? spring me then this Oracle!

Mop.

I that I will, my skill lies all in birds, Whose flight I feare I have observ'd so long That I am metamorphos'd to a spaniell.

Amy.

Looke how my hawke of understanding soares About the Partridge Oracle!—ill luck! Tis at retreat againe.

Mop.

O shall I never Rid me of this misfortune! (thankes good omen) Cras, cras she saies, tomorrow 'twill be better. Black bird I thank thee!

A Crow cawes.

Claius to them.

The.

Litle thinks the wretched Claius now How sad a life his poore Amyntas lives!

Cl.

Too well unto his griefe.—I'le goe unto him And follow him in his humor:—You have got A dainty spanniell, sir.

Amy.

I think the world Cannot afford his equall.

Cla.

What breed is hee?

Amy.

True Spartan I'le assure you.

Cl.

Was the sire

Of the same Country?

Amy.

No, as I remember He was an Irish Grey-hound, but the damme Came of Acteons brood.

Cl.

As how I pray?

Amy.

Why thus; Melampus was the sire of Laelaps, Laelaps to Lagon, Lagon to Ichnobates, Ichnobates to Pamphagus, and Pamphagus To Dorceus, he to Labros, that was sire To Oresitrophus, Oresitrophus To fleet Theridamas, Theridamas To swift Nebrophonos, Nebrophonos To the quick-nos'd Aellus; he to Dromas, Dromas to Tygris, Tygris to Orybasus, Orybasus to Pterelas, he to Nape, The damme of Mopsus.

Mop.

So then Orybasus Was my great grandfather. Though I be a Dog, I come of a good house. My Ancestors Were all of Noble names past understanding▪ What a brave man's my Master! where learn'd he All this? Ne're stirre now I could find in my heart To leave my Augury and study Heraldry; A man I think may learn't as well as t'other, Yet never fear of growing too wise upon't. And then will I record the pedegree Of all the dogs i'th' world. O that I had The Armes of all our house byth' Mothers side!

Cl.

Sir I have brave things in a Basket for you. Give me your Dog, and you shall have 'em all.

Amy.

Take him.

Mop.

O heavens! and shall I change my master, One mad man for another?

Amy.

Curre be quiet, I have said it, and my will shall be a law.

Mop.

O good sir, for Melampus sake, and Dorceus Laelaps, Ichnobates, Lagon, Melanchetes, Labros, Nebrophonos, Oresitrophus, Tygris, Orybatus, Therydamas, Aellus, Dromes, Nape, and the rest Of all my Noble ancestors deceas'd, Be mercifull unto me! Pitty pitty The only hope of all our family.

Cl.

Sir, can he fetch and carry?

Amy.

You shall see him. Fetch sirrah:—there:—the curre is runne away, Helpe me to catch my dog: you'l bring you mungrell?

Mop.

Yes much! the birds will not advise me to it.

Exit.

The.

Sylvan why gaze you on us? would you frolike With poore Amynta's madnes; 'twould ill beseem you To make our griefe your pastime.

Cl.

Not I by heaven! My joyes are counterfeit, my sorrowes reall: (I cannot hold from weeping) ah you know not What griefe lies here within, (teares you'l betray me!) Give me my eye full of this noble sheapheard! Who hath not heard how he hath chac'd the boare! And how his speare hath torne the panch of wolves. On th' barke of every tree his name's ing•…•…aven.

Now Planet struck, and all that vertue vanish'd.

The.

Thy lookes are fierce, thy words bespeak thee Gentle.

Amy.

Why wep't he Thestylis!

The.

I did not marke him.

Amy.

It was a mote in's eye: I'le kisse it out; I'le curle thy shackl'd locks, and crispe thy haire Like the streight-growing Cypresse. Come let's put Our heads together. Thou art more then mortall, And shal't expound to Ceres what she askes. It is a gallant Sylvan, Thestylis.

Cl.

I am not skill'd in riddles, no interpreter Of Divinations, but dare contend With any Empyrick to doe a cure, Whether the body or the minde be sick. That is my study, I but crave the leave To try the powre of art upon this sheapheard. If Aesculapius be propitious to him, After the dew of one nights softer slumbers, I dare be bold to say he shall recover.

Amy.

My dog againe? dost read it in the starres? What a strange man is this?

Cl.

Thy wits, Amyntas, I meane; O cast thy armes in my embraces, Speak carefull Nymph how came he thus distracted?

Amy.

I doe you meane? with a very-very-very mad▪ trick▪— By making verses.

Cl.

Rest rest deluded fancy!

The.

There was a time (alas that ere it was.)

When my poore sheapheard fell in love.

Cl.

With whom?

The.

The starre of beauty, Pilumnu's much admir'd Vrania.

Cl.

O the crosse darts of fate!

The.

Shee sweet Nymph inlodged The casket of his love in her own bosome, But Ceres set a Dowry▪ Out alasse! Would shee had ask'd our flocks, our kids, our groves! Would she had bid us quench the flames of Aetna In Arethusa's streames, it had been easy. We fight with words and cannot conquer them; This her Imperious Ompha ask'd, and Thunder'd That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave. To finde out her commands, he lost himselfe.

Cl.

Your storie's pittifull: Tis my profession To wander through the Earth, and in my Travell, I am inquisitive after the sick to heale 'em; Their cure and kind acceptance is my pay. You will not fear to lodge me for a night?

The.

We have but homely hospitality.

Amy.

Ile feast thee with some Venison, brave Montano.

Cl.

Thy restitution is my feast Amyntas; Your curdes and chestnuts and your country fare Is bounteous for so meane a guest as I: But send for that Vrania her sweet voice Must sing a Lullaby to drowne his senses, And charme soft sleepe upon his troubled phancy. And 'fore the gray-eyd morne doe peepe, be confident

I'le put the musique of his braines in tune.

Col.

You'l call Vrania.

The.

Doubt not sir, I will. Or send my servant Mycon by the Vale.

Amy.

Come Sylvan, if the dogs doe barke I'le braine 'em; Wee'l sleepe to night together, and to morrow,

Cl.

Will end I hope thy madnesse, not my sorrow.

Amy.

Wee'l goe a hunting, so ho ho! so ho ho!

Exeunt.

Mopsus from the Orchard.

Mop.

Are the mad dogs gone yet? A little more would have perswaded mee Into a spaniell: and I may be one For any thing I know: yet sure I am not Because methinkes I speake; but an this speaking Should be but barking now: If I be a dog Heaven send me a better Master then the former. Ceres defend me, what strange Elves are there!

SCEN. 4.

Dorylas with a Bevy of Fairies.

Dor.

How like you now my Grace? is not my coun∣tenance Royall and full of Majesty? Walke not I Like the young Prince of Pigmies? Ha? my knaves, Wee'l fill our pockets. Looke looke yonder, Elves, Would not you apples tempt a better conscience Then any we have to rob an Orchard? ha! Fairies, like Nymphs with child, must have the things

They long for. You sing here a Fairy catch In that strange tongue I taught you: while our selfe Doe clime the Trees. Thus Princely Oberon Ascends his throne of State.

Elves

Nos beata Fauni Proles, Quibus non est magnamoles, Quamvis Lunam incolamus, Hortos saepe frequentamus.

Furto cuncta magis bella, Furto dulctor Puella. Furto omnia decora. Fur to poma dulciora.

Cum mortales lecto jacent, Nobis poma noctu placent, Illa tamen sunt ingrata, Nisi furto sint parata.

• Iocastus.
• Bromius.

Io.

What divine noyse fraught with immortall harmony Salutes mine eare?

Bro.

Why this immortall Harmony Rather salutes your Orchard: these young Rascalls, These pescod▪shalers doe so cheat my Master: We cannot have an apple in the Orchard, But straight some Fairy longs for't: well if I Might have my will, a whip again should jerk h'em,

Into their old mortality:

Io.

Dar'st thou schreetch-owle With thy rude croaking interrupt their musique; Whose melody hath made the spheares to lay Their heavenly lutes aside, only to listen To their more charming notes?

Bro.

Say what you will, I say a cudgell now were excellent Musique.

Elves.

Oberon descende citus, Ne cogaris hinc invitus. Canes audio latrantes, Et mortales vigilantes.

Io.

Prince Oberon? I heard his Graces name.

Bro.

O ho: I spy his Grace! Most noble Prince Come downe, or I will pelt your Grace with stones, That I believe your Grace was ne're so pelted Since 'twas a Grace.

Do.

Bold mortall, hold thy hand.

Bro.

Immortall Thiefe come down, or I will fetch you: Methinks it should impaire his Graces honour To steale poore mortals apples: Now have at you!

Dor.

Iocastus, we are Oberon, and we thought That one so neere to us as you in favour, Would not have suffer'd this prophane rude groome Thus to impaire our royaltie.

Io.

Gracious Prince, The fellow is a foole, and not yet purged From his mortalitie.

Do.

Did we out of love And our intire affection, of all Orchards Chuse your's to make it happy by our dances, Light ayry measures, and fantastique rings! And you ingratefull mortall thus requites us. All for one Apple!

Io.

Villaine th'hast undone me: His Grace is much incens'd.

Do.

You know, Iocastus, Our Grace have Orchards of our owne more precious Then mortals can have any: And we sent you A Present of them t'other day.

Io.

'Tis right, Your Graces humble servant must acknowledge it.

Bro.

Some of his owne I am sure.

Do.

I must confesse Their outside look'd something like yours indeed; But then the tast more relish'd of eternitie, The same with Nectar.

Io.

Your good Grace is welcome To any thing I have: Nay, Gentlemen Pray doe not you spare neither:

Elve'.

Ti-ti-ta-te.

Io.

What say these mighty peeres, great Oberon?

Do.

They cannot speake this language, but in ours They thank you, and they say they will have none,

Elves.

Ti-ti-ta-t•…•…-Tititatie

Io.

What say they now?

Do.

They doe request you now To grant them leave to dance a Fayry ring

About your servant, and for his offence Pinch him: doe you the while command the traitour Not dareto stirre, not once presume to mutter.

Io.

Traytour, for so Prince Oberon deignes to call thee, Stirre not, nor mutter.

Bro.

To be thus abus'd!

Io.

Ha? mutter'st thou?

Bro.

I have deserved better.

Io.

Still mutter'st thou?

Bro.

I see I must endure it.

Io.

Yet mutter'st thou? Now Noble Lords begi•…•… When it shall please your honours.

Do.

Ti ti tatie. Our noble freind permits, Tititatie: Doe you not sir?

Io.

How should I say I doe?

Do.

Ti ti ta tie.

Io.

Ti ti ta tie my Noble Lords.

Elves

Quoniam per te violamur Vngues hic experiamur. Statim dices tibi datam Cutem valdè variatam.

They dance.

Io.

Tititatie to your Lordships for this excellent musick

Bro.

This 'tis to have a coxcombe to on's master.

Io.

Still mutter'st thou?

Exit Bromius.

Dorylas from the tree: Iocastus falls on his knees.

Do

And rise up Sir Iocastus, our deare Knight. Now hang the hallowed bell about his neck, We call it a mellisonant Tingle Tangle, (Indeed a sheep-bell stolne from's own fat wether.) The ensigne of his knighthood. Sir Iocastus, Wee call to mind we promis'd you long since The President of our Dances place; we are now Pleas'd to confirme it on you: give him there His Staffe of Dignity.

aside.

Io.

Your Grace is pleas'd To honour your poore leigeman.

Do.

Now begone.

Io.

Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you, Tititatie my Noble Lords farewell.

Exit.

Dor.

Tititatie my noble foole farewell: Now, my Nobility and honourd Lords, Our grace is pleas'd for to part stakes; here Iocalo These are your share; these his, and these our Graces. Have we not gull'd him bravely! see you Rascalls, These are the fruits of witty knavery.

Mopsus enters barking.

Dor.

Heaven shield Prince Oberon, and his honour'd Lords! We are betraid.

Mop.

Bow wow wow. Nay nay since you have made a sheepe of my Brother I'le be a dog to keepe him.

Do.

O good Mopsus!

Mop.

Does not your Grace, most lowe and mighty Dorylas,

Feare whipping now?

Do.

Good Mopsus but conceale us, And I will promise by to morrow night To get thee Thestylis.

Mop.

I will aske leave Of the birds first. An owle? the bird of night; An owle That plainly shewes that by to morrow night, shreekes. He may performe his promise.

Do.

And I will.

Mop.

Why then I will conceale you. But your Grace Must thinke your Grace beholding to mee.

Do.

Well: We do•…•….

Mop.

And thanke the owle, she stood your friend. And for this time my witty Grace farewell.

Do.

Nay be not so discourteous; Stay and take An apple first: you Iocalo give him one, And you another, and our Grace a third.

Mop.

Your Grace is liberall: But now I feare I am not hee that must interpret th' Oracle. My brother will prevent me, to my griefe I much suspect it, for this Dorylas A scarre-crow cozend him most shamefully, Which makes me feare hee's a more foole then I.

Exit Mopsus.

Dor.

So, we are clean got off: come noble Peeres Of Fairy, come, attend our Royall Grace. Let's goe and share our fruit with our Queen Mab, And th'other Dary maids: where of this theam We will discourse amidst our Cakes and Cream.

Elves▪

Cum tot poma habeamus, Triumphos laeti iam canamus. Faunos ego credam ortos Tantum ut frequentent hortos.

I domum Oberon ad illas Quae nos manent nunc ancillas. Quarum osculemur sinum, Inter poma, lac, & vinum.

Finis Actus tertii.

ACTVS 4.

SCEN 1.

• Mopsus,
• The stilis.

Mop.

I would have you to know The stilis, so I would, I am no dog, but mortall flesh and blood As you are.

Thes.

O be patient gentle Mopsus.

Mop.

Slid, fetch and carry!

Thes.

Nay good sweet heart Be not so angry.

Mop.

Angry? why 'twould anger A dog indeed to be so us'd, a dog! I would not use a dog so: bid a dog That comes of a good house to fetch and carry! Discourteous! •…•…et him get dogs of his own, For I have got my neck out of the collar. Let him unkennell's Oracles himselfe For Mopsus, if I starte or spring him one

I'le dye the dogs death, and be hang'd: mad foole!

Thes.

But Mopsus, you may now securely visit Mee and my house: Amyntas, heaven be prais'd, Is now recover'd of his wits again.

Mop.

How? and grown wise!

Thes.

Ceres be prais'd as ever.

Mop.

Shut up your doores then; Carduus Benedictus Or Dragon water may doe good upon him.

Thes.

What mean you Mopsus?

Mop.

Mean I? what mean you To invite me to your house when 'tis infected?

Thes.

Infected?

Mop.

I, Amyntas has the Wits. And doe you think I'le keepe him company? Though, as I told you still, I am suspitious Iocastus is the man that must—

The.

Doe what?

Mop.

It grieves me to think of it.

The.

Out with't man.

Mop.

That must interpret; I have cause to think (With sorrow be it spoken) he will prove The verier foole, but let him; yet now my Aug•…•…ry That never failes me, tells mee certainly That I shall have thee, Thestylis, yet ere night; It was an owle—

SCEN. 2.

• Claius.
• Amyntas.

—And—see see, Thestylis,

Here comes the Ivy bush. I'le stand aside, For I am still most bodily afraid.

Amy.

What Deity lives here? the soule of Phoebus Breaths in this powerfull man: sure Aeculapius Revisits earth againe; and in this shape Deales health amongst us! I before was nothing But brui•…•… and beast: O tell me by what reliques Of heavenly fire have you inspir'd me with This better soule of reason! worthy sir, If y'are some God (as lesse I cannot deeme you) That pittying of my miseries, came downe From heaven to cure mee, tell mee, that I may With sacrifice adore you.

Mop.

Adore him? Are there such Ruffian Gods in heaven as he? Such beggarly Deities?

Amyn.

If you will conceale it, And I by ignorance omit to pay Those sacred duties that I ought, be pleas'd To pardon me.

Mop.

Heighday! well Thestylis, You may be glad your house is not infected; Hee'sten times madder now then ere he was, To deify this rude ill-favour'd Silvan, This fellow with the beard all over: Thestylis, I dare not stay; unlesse my heeles maintaine My safety I shall turne a dog againe.

Exit Mopsus.

Clai.

I am as you are, mortall; 'tis my skill In Physick, and experience in the rare Vertue of herbes, that wrought this miracle;

No Divinity, or power in me.

Thest.

Amyntas, when shall wee requite this kindnesse?

Amynt.

Never, I would willingly Have sacrific'd unto him, but his modesty Will not permit it: though he will not suffer us T'adore him as a God; yet we may pay A reverence to him as a father.

Claius.

O those words doe touch the quick!

Amyn.

For if he be A father that begot this flesh, this clay, What's he to whom we owe our second birth Of soule and reason? Father, I must call you By that name, father.

Claius.

Now the floudgates open, And the full streame of teares will issue out: Traitors, you will betray me!

(aside

Thest.

Sir, why weepe you?

Claius.

To thinke of this man's father—O I lov'd him As dearely as my selfe (my words and all Breake out suspitious!) has •…•…e not a daughter? As I remember well, he said her name was—

The.

Amaryllis.

Cla.

Yes, I had almost Forgot it, I would faine have seene her too.

Thest.

You cannot now, because to night she lodg'd With one Laurinda.

SCEN. 3.

• Vrania.

Amy.

O my Vrania, welcome, Amyntas bids thee so, I that 'till now Was not Amyntas: come my joy, and meet mee Full of our happinesse!

Vra.

Grant Ceres now My hopes be faithfull to me: my Amyntas, How come your thoughts so setled?

Amyn.

O Vrania, Here, here he stands, to whom I owe my selfe, And thou owest me: we reverence in our Temples Marble, and brasse, whose statues serve for nothing But to hang cobwebs on: oh! how much rather Should we adore this Deity, that bestowed Such happinesse upon us!

Vra.

Would we knew How to deserve it.

Cla.

So you may Vrania, If you will grant me one request.

Vra.

Command it.

Cla.

I would intreat you presently to vow Virginity to Ceres, that Amyntas No more may toyle his brain in thinking what To give you for a Dowry.

Vra.

Sir, I will Presently about it, I'le only first Get some unknown disguise.

Claius.

I dare stay here No longer, for I must begon ereyet The light betrayes me.

Vra.

Happinesse attend you!

Cla.

Remember it Vrania.

Amyn.

Farewell father.

Exeunt Vran. Amynt. Thestyl.

Claius Solus.

Clai.

Thus like a bat, or owle I spend my age In night or darknesse, as asham'd of day, And fearefull of the light: the sunne and I Dare never be acquainted. O guilt, guilt, Thou and thy daughter feare are punishments Perpetuall, every whistling of the wind Doth seeme the noise of apprehenders▪ shadowes Affright me more then men. Each step I tread Is danger. Life? why to live longer should we Not live at all: I heare a noise: false timorousnesse Deceive me not,—my eyes instruct me too, Heaven shield me—

SCEN. 4.

• Alexis.
• Damon.

Fain I would enquire of them For Amaryllis, but if one of these Bee Damon, I am lost.

Alex.

How early, Damon, doe lovers rise?

Cla.

Tis he, I heare his name, good mole away.

Exit.

Dam.

No Larkes so soon, Alexis.

Alex.

He that of us shall have Laurinda, Damon, Will not be up so soone: ha! would you Damon?

Dam.

Alexis, no▪ but if I misse Laurinda, My sleepe shall be eternall.

Alex.

I much wonder the Sunne so soone can rise!

Da▪

Did he lay his head in faire Laurinda's lap,

Alexis.

We should have but short daies.

Alex.

No summer, Damon.

Dam.

Thetis to her is browne.

Alex.

And he doth rise From her to gaze on faire Laurinda's eyes.

Dam.

O now I long to meet our Arbitresse.

Alex.

On whom depends our only happinesse.

Dam.

It must be the first Virgin that we greet From Ceres Temple.

Alex.

Yes, the first we meet.

Dam.

I heare no noise of any yet that move.

Alex.

Devotion's not so early up as love.

Dam.

See how Aurora blushes! we suppose Where Tithon lay to night.

Alex.

That modest rose He grafted there.

Dam.

O heaven, 'tis all I seeke, To make that colour in Laurinda's cheeke.

Alex.

The virgins now come from the Temple.

Dam.

Appeale unto the first.

SCEN. 5.

The virgins passe over the stage with waxe candles in their hands, Amaryllis goes the first, but she is staid by Damon, as unknown to be Amaryllis, she be∣ing vail'd and having on her head the garland that Laurinda took from Damon.

Chast beauteous Nymph, Ceres so grant your prayers, as you determine Iustly our cause!

Amar.

Ceres has heard my prayers, For all my morning orisons beg'd no more Then one kind word from Damon.

Dam.

Amaryllis!

Alex.

That name breaths life & soul to poore Alexis.

Amar.

The same;—why startle you? you have not met A poyson, Damon.

Dam.

Yes, a thousand vipers Have stung my soule.

Alex.

As many joyes crown mine With happinesse.

Dam.

Would I had met this morning Infectious vapors nursing plagues, not thee; No curse but that had power to ruin mee!

Alex.

No other blessing hath preserved mee.

Amar.

What should this mean, my Damon? how have I Displeas'd you, sweet? heaven knowes it is my praier More then for heaven, to please you.

Da.

O my torture!

Fly hence as farre as hell, and hide thy head Lower then darknesse; would thou had'st been acting▪ Incest or murder, when thou cam'st to pray: Thou hadst in any thing sinn'd lesse then this: Vnseasonable devotion!

Amar.

Can it be A sin to pray for Damon?

Dam.

Thou had'st blest mee Had'st thou sate all this while in some dark cell Loading my head with curses.

Ama.

Innocence Let me not understand you.

Da.

I'le not stand To her award, she is a partiall judge, And will decree unjustly.

Ama.

How, to Damon? To him she loves so deerely?

Dam.

That's the reason; Shee does confesse, Alexis, that she loves me, That's argument enough against het.

Amar.

Ceres, these obscure passions move me.

Alex.

I'le instruct you, Take here the paper, pen and inke.

Ama.

Why yet sir I know no more.

Alex.

You are to passe your censure, Being the first Nymph that we have met this morning, Which of us two must have the faire Laurinda. Write your award; our mutuall oathes doe bind us Not to deny't.

Da.

'Tis a meere plot contriv'd Betwixt this cursed Nymph, and you▪ Alexis.

Alex.

Damon you wrong us both.

Dam.

Where did you steale This Garland? it was mine.

Amar.

For that I love it, Because it once was thine.

Da.

For that I hate it, Cause it is thine, had it been true to mee▪ Me thinkes as soone as it had toucht thy head It should have withered.

Amar.

So it would have done Had it not first touch't yours. Laurinda gave me This Garland, but nere told me of this accident.

Da.

Alexis, you deale false, 'tis a conspiracy 'Twixt you and her.

Alex.

How can it? you know, Damon, I have not beene one minute from your presence.

Da.

You tooke your time while I was sleeping.

Alex.

Neither, Nor I nor you could sleepe one winke this night, The expectation of this morning tryall Did keepe us both awake.

Da.

I doe not know, But there is some trick in't, and I'le appeale From her too partiall se•…•…ence.

Ale.

I'le the while goe fetch Laurinda, shee shall force you stand Vnto her tryall.

Exit.

Amar.

Damon, thy harsh language is more then death

Vnto me.

Da.

I doe charge you to teare the paper, And refuse to judge between us.

Amar.

No, I am resolv'd to write what I determine.

Da.

Now thou hast indeed a time wherein thou maist Revenge my scorne. Take it, but I'le prevent thee.

he strikes her.

Amar.

Welcome death! From him all things are so. Damon, fly hence, Thou hast shed bloud here in the Sacred Valley, Make hast away or thou art lost for ever.

Dam.

Thy counsell's good, no matter whose the guilt.

Exit Damon.

Ama.

What was it he said last?—Thou hast indeed A time wherein thou maist revenge my scorne. —With love, no otherwise: and there thou shalt not Prevent mee, Damon. I will write—This inke Deserves not to record the name of Damon, Tis black and ugly; thou thy selfe hast furnisht mee With that of better colour. 'Tis my blood That's truly Cupids inke: love ought to write Only with that;—. This paper is too course; O that I had my heart, to write it there! But so it is already. Would I had A Parchment made of my own skin, in that To write the truth of my affection, A wonder to posterity!—Hand make hast As my bloud does, or I shall faint I feare Ere I have done my story.—

SCEN. 6.

Enter Dorylas.

Dor.

These milkemaids are the daintiest rogues▪ they kisse As sweet as sillibubs, surely Oberon Lives a delitious life! Ha! who lies here? A Nymph? If't were but now in Oberons power To steale away her maidenhead, as she sleepes: O 'twould be excellent sport, to see how shee Would misse it when she wakes: what misery 'tis To be a boy; why could not my good father Have got me five yeares sooner? here had been A purchase: well, 'tis but five yeares longer And I shall hope to see a merrier world. No body neere too! Slid the very thought's Enough to make me man oth sudden, well I'le kisse her though.

Amar.

Oh I faint.

Dor.

She dreames; Now shall I know all secrets: These same women Are given so much to talke when they are awake That they prate sleeping too.

Ama.

My blood congeales Within my quill, and I can write no more.

Dor.

Love letters? she was troubled yester night About inditcing, and she dreames on't now. Poore sleepy secretary!

Ama.

I will fold it up

And send it; who's that's here? my eyes Are dimme, ha, Dorylas!

Dor.

Now she dreames shee gives it me to carry; I halfe feare I use to carry letters in my sleepe, Wearying my selfe all night, and that's the reason I am so loath to rise i'th' morning.

Ama.

Dorylas, carry this letter for mee.

Dor.

I thought so, That's all that I can doe, carry their letters, Or runne of errands: well, come five yeares hence They may imploy me better. Vnto whom is it?

Amar.

Vnto Laurinda, take it.

Dor.

How, a red letter?

Amar.

Say I wish all health to her and Damon; And being not able for to beare my griefes, I sought a remedy from mine own speare and died.

Dor.

How dead? oh mee, See how her blood hath stain'd the holy Valley! Well you have done me wrong to kill your selfe, Only to have me sacrifis'd on the Altar, I nere deserv'd it.

Amar.

Fear not Dorylas.

Dor.

Fear not, to dye so like a calfe? oh Dorylas oh—

Ama.

Good Dorylas be gone, whilest yet my breath Will give me leave to say it was not you.

Dor.

See that you doe, and so farewell.

Exit▪

Amar.

Farewell! How fearfull death is unto them; whose life Had any sweetnesse in it! my daies have all Been so oreworne with sorrow, that this wound

Is unto me rather a salve then fore, More physick then disease: whither my journey Shall lead me now; through what dark hideous place; Among what monsters, hags and snake-hair'd Furies, Am I to goe, I know not: but my life Hath been so spotlesse, chast, and innocent, My death so undeserv'd, I have no reason (If there be Gods) but to expect the best; Yet what doth most torment mee, is the thought How long 'twill bee ere I again enjoy My Damon's presence: untill then, Elysium Will be no place of pleasure; and perchance When he comes thither too, he then may slight mee As much as now.—That very feare doth make thee Dye, wretched Amaryllis!

SCEN. 7.

Enter Claius.

Cla.

How no feare Can make me loose the father! Death or danger Threat what you can; I have no heart to goe Back to the mountaines, 'till my eyes have seen My Amaryllis!

Amar.

O was ever love So cros'd as mine! was ever Nymph so wretched As Amaryllis?

Cla.

Ha! I heard the sound Of Amarillis; where's that blessed creature, That owes the name? are you the Virgin?

Ama.

Yes, That fatall name is mine. I shall anon Be nothing but the name.

Cla.

O speak, what hand, What barbarous Tigers issue, what cursed whelpe Of Beares or Lyon, had the marble heart To wound so sweet a Nymph?

Amar.

O sir, my bloud Calls none but fortune guilty. I by chance Stumbled on mine own dart, and hurt my selfe.▪

Clai.

Then I have hearbs to cure it: heaven I thank thee That didst instruct me hither! still the bloud Flowes like a scarlet torrent, whose quick streame Will not be checkt: speak Amarillis, quickly, What hand this sinne hath stain'd, upon whose soule This bloud writes murther; till you see the man Before your eyes, that gave the hurt, all hope In Physick is despaire:—She will not speak, And now the cure growes to the last. Yet here I have a Recipe will revive her spirits,

Applies a medicine and rubs her tēples.

And 'till the last drop of her blood be clean Exhausted from those azure veines, preserve her; But then shee's lost for ever! Then, O Ceres, If there be any in these groves, men, virgins, Beast, bird, or trees, or any thing detesting This horrid fact, reveale it! Sacred grasse Whose hallowed greene this bloudy deed hath stain'd, Aske nature for a tongue to name the murtherer! I'le to the Temple:—If this place containe Any Divinity, Piety, or Religion,

If there be any God at home, or Priest, Ompha, or Oracle, Shrine, or Altar, speake Who did it: who is guilty of this sinne, That dyes the earth with bloud, & makes the heavens Asham'd to stand a witnesse?

SCEN. 8.

Enter Pilumnus. Corymbus,

Pilum.

What sad voyce Disturbs our pious Orgyes?

Cor.

See, Pilumnus, A virgin all in gore.

Pil.

Ceres defend us, The Sacred Vally is prophan'd.

Cor.

The place So deare to Ceres, all defil'd with bloud.

Pil.

By Ceres, and her holy Ompha, hee That did it, with his blood shall satisfy The Goddesse anger; who by blood offends By his own sacrific'd, must make amends.

Cla.

I durst presume upon the power of art, Did I but know the murtherer.

Pil.

How soever 'Tis death to him that did it.

Cor.

Speake his name Faire virgin.

Ama.

O—if it be death to him That did it, I have not the power to live

Behind him.

Cor.

Why, who was it then?

Ama.

My selfe, And therefore in my death your law is satisfied, The blood and act both mine.

Cla.

It is not so, For had it been by her own hand, my skill Could have preserv'd her life.

Amar.

It was my selfe, Or one as deare.

Cla.

Who's that?

Ama.

I'le rather dye Then name him, though it be a name I use Oft to repeat, and every repetition Is a new soule unto mee: 'tis a name I have taught the birds to caroll, every Laurell and Cedar beares it registred Vpon his tender barke; it is a name In which is all the life I yet have left; A name I long to speake; yet I had rather Dye all the severall sorts of death twice over Then speake it once.

Clai.

I charge thee by that duty Thou ow'st to me, Amarillis, that thou owest to me Who gave thee life.—

Pil.

What should this mean Corymbus!

Cl.

And by the womb that bare thee, by the breasts Of thy dead mother, Lalage,

Cor.

This is strange.

Cla.

Conceale him not! in plain, I am thy father

Thy father, Amarillis, that commands thee By these gray haires to tell mee. I am Claius.

Pilum.

How, Claius! and so fortunatly found!

Claius.

I, glut your hate, Pilumnus; let your soule That has so long thirsted to drinke my blood, Swill till my veines are empty; and carowse Deep in my heart, till you grow drunke, and reele, And vomit up the surfet, that your cruelty Quaft off with so much pleasure; I have stood Long like a fatall oake, at which great Iove Levels his thunder; all my boughes long since Blasted and wither'd; now the trunke falls too. Heaven end thy wrath in mee!

Pilum.

Blessed be Ceres! What unexpected happines is here? Rejoyce Sicilians; miserable lovers, Crowne all your browes with roses, and adore The Deity that sent him: he is come Whose blood must quench the fire of Ceres wrath, And kindle more auspitious flames of love In every brest.

Cla.

I, doe, I feare not death. Let every Virgins hand when I am slaine Ring me a knell of Plaudits: let my Dirges Be amorous Ditties, and in stead of weeping Dance at my funerall! Tis no griefe for mee To dye to make my countrymen some sport. Here's one in whom I only wish to live Another age.

Amar.

What joy have I to live,

That nere liv'd yet: the time that I have spent Since first I wept, then, when I first had entrance Into this world, this cold and sorrowfull world, Was but a scene of sorrow; wretched I! Fatall to both my parents! For my birth Ruin'd my mother, and my death my father. O Tragick life! I either should have been Nere borne, or nere have died. When I began To be, my sinne began, why should it then Out live mee? for, though now I cease to be, That still continues: Eyes, flow forth a pace, And be asham'd to see my wound run blood Faster then you drop teares—

Enter Damon.

See, here he comes. His absence never untill now I wisht.

Dam.

My Conscience brings me back, the feet of guilt Goe slow and dull, 'tis hard to run away From that we beare about us!

Cla.

The Murtherer Is in this place, the issue of her blood Is stop'd oth' sudden. Cruell man, 'tis thou Hast done this bloudy act, that will disgrace The story of our nation, and imprint So deepe a blemish in the age we live in For savage Barbarisme, that eternity Shall nere weare out: Pilumnus, on my knees I beg the justice of Sicilian lawes Against this monster.

Pilum.

Claius, 'tis your hate,

And old revenge instructs you to accuse My Sonne: you would have fellowes in your death, And to that purpose you pretend, I know not What mysteries of art!

Cla.

Speak Amaryllis I'st not this wolfe?

Pilum.

Say, virgin, was it hee?

Ama.

O, I am angry with my blood for stopping! This coward ebbe against my will betraies mee; The streame is turn'd, my eyes run faster now.

Pilum.

Can you accuse my sonne?

Amar.

By Ceres, no; I have no heart to doe it: does that face Look cruell? doe those eyes sparkle with hate, Or malice? Tell me, Father, lookes that brow As if it could but frowne? Say, can you thinke Tis possible Damon could have the heart To wound a Virgin? surely barbarous cruelty Dwels not in such a brest: mercy, and mildnesse, Courtesy, love, and sweetnesse breath in him, Not Anger, wrath, or murther; Damon was not Fed at a Thracian teat, Venus did send Her Doves to nurse him, and can he be cruell? Whence should he learne so much of barbarisme As thus to wrong a Virgin? if he wound mee Tis only from his eyes, where loves blind God Whets his pil'd arrowes; He besides, you know, Had never cause to wrong mee, for he knowes Alwaies I lov'd him: Father, doe not wrong An innocent; his soule is white, and pure,

Tis sinne to thinke there lives a sinne in him; Impiety to accuse him.

Clai.

In his lookes He carries guilt, whose horror breeds this strange And obstinate silence: shame, and his conscience Will not permit him to deny it.

Amar.

Tis, alas, His modest, bashfull nature, and pure innocence, That makes him silent: think you that bright rose That buds within his cheekes, was planted there By guilt or shame? no, he has alwaies been So unacquainted with all act of sinne, That but to be suspected strikes him dumb With wonder and amazement. For by Ceres (I think my oath be lawfull) I my selfe Was cause of this.

Cla.

Still I am confident 'Twas hee.

Pilum.

It is your envy makes you so.

SCEN. 9.

• Alexis.
• Laurinda.

Lau.

—I will Alexis, And so he must if oathes be any tye.

Alex.

To lovers they are none, we break those bonds As easily as threds of silke: A bracelet Made of your maidens haire's a stronger chaine Then twenty cobweb oathes, which while we break Venus but laughs: it must be your perswasion

That works him to it.

Lau.

Damon, you must stand To what you promis'd, how shall I believe Those other oathes you sweare, if you respect This one no better: It was my device To have her judge, was it not, Amarillis? How, all in blood!

Cla.

Yes, this unmercifull man (If he be man that can doe such a crime) Has wounded her.

Amar.

Indeed it was not hee.

Pil.

You see her selfe frees him.

Lau.

When last we left her She was with Damon.

Ama.

Pray believe her not, She speaks it out of anger, I nere saw Damon to day before.

Alex.

And when we left 'em He was incens'd.

Amar.

You are no competent witnesse; You are his Rivall in Laurinda's love, And speak not truth but malice, 'tis a plot To ruin innocence.

Lau.

O ungratefull man! The wolfe that does devoure the brest that nurst it Is not so bad as thou: here, here, this Letter Th' eternall Chronicle of affection, That ought with golden characters to be writ In Cupids Annals, will (false man) convince thee Of fowle ingratitude: you shall hear me read it.

The Letter.

Laurinda, you have put it unto mee To choose a husband for you, I will be A judge impartiall, upright, just and true, Yet not so much unto my selfe as you.

Alex.

Now I expect to hear my blessed doome.

Lau.

Alexis well deserves, but Damon more; I wish you him I wisht my selfe before.

Alex.

O, I am ruin'd in the height of hope. How like the hearb Solstitiall is a lover, Now borne, now dead again, he buds, sprouts forth, Flourishes, ripens, withers in a minute.

Lau.

Take him, the best of men, that ever eye Beheld, and live with him for whom I dye. Amarillis. Here look on't.—

Dam.

Writ with blood? o let me kisse My bill of Accusation! here my name Lookes like my soule, all crimson, every line, Word, syllable, and letter, weares the livery Of my unnaturall action. Amarillis That name of all is black, which was alone Worthy so pretious inke; as if disdaining The character of cruelty, which the rest Were cloathd in: for as if that word alone Did weare this mourning colour, to bewaile The funerall of my vertue, that lies buried Here in this living tombe, this moving sepulchre.

Lau.

Know murtherer I hate thy bed, and thee, Unkind, unthankfull villaine.

Ama.

Nay, Laurinda, You have bound your selfe to stand to my award; The sentence now is past, and you must love him, It cannot be revers'd; you are deceiv'd, He is not guilty of this sinne, his love To me, for mine, makes him against his conscience Seeme to confesse it, but believe him not.

Lau.

Nor will, he is all falshood, and ingratitude.

Da.

Laurinda, you may spare in this harsh language To utter your dislike: had you a beauty More then immortall, and a face whose glory Farre outshind Angels, I would make my choyce Here, and no where but here; her vertue now Moves a more noble flame within my brest Then ere your beauty did; I am enamour'd More of her soule, then ever yet I doted Upon your face: I doe confesse the fact; Pardon me vertuous maid, for though the action Be worthy death, the object most condemnes mee! Take me to death Corymbus; Amarillis, I goe to write my story of repentance With the same inke, wherewith thou wrotes before The legend of thy love, farewell, farewell.

Exeunt Corymb. Dam.

Pil.

Laurinda, and Alexis, doe you call The Sheapheards, and the virgins of Sicilia To see him sacrific'd, whose death must make There loves more fortunate; this day shall be Happy to all Sicilians, but to mee. Yet come thou cursed Claius, the sweet comfort

Which I shall take when my revenge is done, Will something ease the sorrow for my sonne.

Clai.

Amarillis, prethee call Amyntas to mee, And Thestylis: I faine would have mine eye Behold them once again before I dye.

Ex. Pil. Cla.

Ale.

Come my Laurinda, through how many chances, Suspicions, errors, sorrowes, doubts, and feares Love leads us to our pleasures; many stormes Have we sail'd through my Sweet, but who could feare A tempest, that had hope to harbour here.

Ex. Alex. Lau.

Amarillis sola.

Amar.

All, all but the distressed Amarillis Are happy, or lesse wretched; fair Laurinda Is ready for a wedding, old Pilumnus Hath lost a sonne, yet mitigates his griefe In Claius death, my father Claius dies Yet joyes to have the sonne of his old enemy A partner of his sorrowes; my father looses Only himselfe; and Damon too no more; Amyntas but a father, onely I Have lost all these; I have lost Claius, Damon, And my selfe too; A father with Amyntas, And all the rest in Damon, and which more Affects mee, I am cause of all; Pilumnus Had not else lost his sonne, nor had Amyntas Wept for a Father, nor poore Thestylis Bewail'd a brother; Damon might have liv'd, And Claius but for mee; all circumstances Concurreto make my miseries compleat,

And sorrowes perfect: for I lost my father As soone as I had found him, and my Damon As soone as I had found he lov'd mee: thus All I can find is losse; o too too wretched, Distressed virgin! when they both are dead Visit their Ashes, and first weepe an howre On Claius Vrne, then go, and spend another At Damon's; thence again goe wet the tombe Of thy dead father, and from thence returne Back to thy lovers grave; thus spend thy age In sorrowes; and till death doe end thy cares Betwixt these two equally share thy teares.

Finis Actus quarti.

ACTVS 5.

SCEN. 1.

Dorylas, and a Chorus of Swaines.

Dor.

COme neighbours, let's goe see the sacrifice Must make you happy lovers: oh 'twill be A fortunate season! Father Coridon, You and old mother Baucis shall be friends. The sheepe-hooke and the distaffe shall shake hands. You lovely freeze-coats, nothing now but kissing, Kissing and culling, culling and kissing, heighday! In hope it will be one day so with mee I am content to live. Now let's ascend.

SCEN. 2.

• Alexis.
• Laurinda.
• Medorus.

Alex.

Now my Laurinda, now (o happy now!) All lets that stood between my joy and mee Are gone and fled.

Lau.

Long, o too long, Alexis, My doubtfull fancy wavered whom to love, Damon, or you; in both was happinesse, But double happinesse was my single misery: So far'd it once, Alexis, (for I well Remember it) with one of my poore ewes, Equally mov'd between two tufts of grasse, This tempting one way, that inticing t' other, Now she would this, then that, then this againe, Vntill poore foole (true embleme of her mistresse) Shee almost starv'd in choosing which to feed on; At last (so heaven pittied the innocent foole) A westerne gale nipt one, which being blasted Shee fed upon the other.

Ale.

Pretty fool! lets now no more deferre our nuptial (joyes.

Med.

How sweet a folly is this love? But rash youth, Alexis, (As youth is rash) runnes indiscreetly on While mature judgment ripened by experience Stayes for loves season.

Alex.

Season? why, can love Be ever out of season?

Med.

Yes, Alexis, Nothing's borne ripe, all things at first are greene,

Alex.

Lau. And such shall our affection still be seene.

Med.

You are to hasty reapers that doe call For Sickles in the spring:

Alex.

Loves, harvest shall; (Lovers you know) his harvest ought to bee All the yeare long.

Lau.

In Cupids husbandry, Who reapes not in the spring, reapes not at all.

Med.

Woemen indeed too soone begin their fall. Yet till curst Claius dye, as now he must, Alexis, and Laurinda, let my counsell Asswage the heat of youth; pray be perswaded A while for to deferre your nuptiall blisse; 'Tis but a while.

Alex.

A while in lov's an age.

Lau.

Maids in a while grow old.

Med.

Temper loves fire.

Alex.

'Tis but cold love that's temperate in desire.

Med.

Yet, loving paire, stay 'till a fayrer gale; He deserves shipwrack, ('tis the Marriners flout) And justly too, that in a storme sets out.

Lau.

I will suppresse my flame, (ah still it glowes.)

Alex.

And I, but how unwilling Cupid knowes!

Med.

Tis well; now let's goe take our place, to see For our sad griefes a sadder remedy.

SCEN. 3.

• Amyntas.
• Amarillis.

Amar.

—Yes, it was he: hee's in the temple brother, A place wherein he doth deserve a shrine, Yet is to him a prison; can you Gods Suffer the place that's reard unto your honours Be made so vile a thing?

Amyn.

Pray give mee entrance: I am not mad, (and yet I would I were) Am I not mad to wish so? Let me come And see him, sure you had your selfe a father. Did you not wish to see him ere he died? If he be dead: wee'l only pray a while, And weep; will tears pollute the hallowed Ompha? For we must shed them, yes, we cannot choose: Come sister, he will let us, for though Lalage Was our sad mother, yet the Gods will let us Weepe for her: come, come Amarillis, come.

Exit.

SCEN. 4.

• Mopsus.
• Iocastus.

Iocast.

Brother, aread, what meanes his graces favour?

Mop.

It signifies you bear the bell away, From all his Graces nobles.

Io.

Divinely Augur'd; For this I'le make thee Augur to his grace.

Mop.

Belwether of Knight-hood, you shall bind me to you.

Io.

I'le have't no more a sheep-bell; I am Knight Of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle.

Mop.

Sure one of my progeny; tell me gratious brother, Was this Mellisonant Tingle tangle none Of old Actaeons hounds?

Io.

Ignorant mortall, Thou dost not understand the termes of honour.

Mop.

How should I sir, my trees bear no such apples:

Io.

As mine, th'Hesperian fruit are crabbs to mine, Hence came the Knight-hood, hence.

Mop.

The fame whereof rings loud.

Io.

We know it.

Mop.

Foure such knight-hoods more Would make an excellent peale.

Io.

I'le have 'em so.

Mop.

But you must get a squirell too.

Io.

For what?

Mop.

To ring your Knight-hoods.

Io.

I'le have any thing, His grace will not deny me, o sweet orchard.

Mop.

To see the fruit that came of such an orchard!

Io.

But shall we not see Claius sacrific'd?

Mop.

Oh by all meanes.

Io.

But how deserv'd he death?

Mop.

No matter for deserving it or no; Tis fit he suffer for example sake.

Io.

And not offend?

Mop.

Tis fit he should offend.

They take their places.

SCEN. 5.

Pilumnus with a sacrificing knife, fire laid on the Altar, a Priest holding a Taper ready to kindle it, ano∣ther Priest powring water on Claius head, who was bound: Corymbus leading out Damon bound.

Pil.

Sicilians, Nature and religion Are at contention in mee: my sad soule Divided 'twixt my Goddesse and my sonne, Would in her strange distractions, either have mee Turne Parricide or Apostate: Awefull Ceres, For whom I feed the fattest of my Lambs, To whom I send the holiest of my prayers Vpon the smoaky wings of sweetest myrrhe, Instruct thy doubtfull Flamen! As I cannot Forget I am thy priest: for sooner shall Our Lambs forget to feed, our swaines to sing, Our Bees forget first, from the fruitfull Thyme To cull them baggs of Nectar: everything Forget his nature, ere I can forget I am thy Priest: Nor can I but remember That Damon is my sonne: yet take him Ceres! You need not powre water upon his head, I'le doe it with my teares. Ceres, I hope Thy anger will not bind the Fathers eye To look into the Bowels of his sonne, I'le therefore first spill on thy hallowed Altar This Captives blood; and then retire my selfe Not to be present at my Damons death

Least nature might turne Rebell to devotion.

Song.

Ceres, to whom we owe that yet We doe not Mast and Acornes eat: That didst provide us better meat, The purest flower of finest wheat. This bloud we spill at thy desire, To kindle, and to quench a ire. O let it quench thy flame of fire, And kindle mercies more entire. O let this guilty bloud attone For every poore unlucky one; Nymph, or Swain, who ere doe grone Vnder sad Loves imperious throne. That Love a happier age may see In thy long tortur'd Sicily. That blood which must th' Attonement bee Thus Goddesse, thus, we pay to thee!

• Amyntas.
• Amarillis.

Amy.

Stay, stay that impious hand, whose hasty zeale Thinks murther can appease the Goddesse wrath! If it be murther must appease her wrath, What is't can move her anger? Doe not then, Doe not pollute her Altar, least it keep The crimson staine of bloud, and blush for ever, At this too cruell, ignorant devotion.

Pil.

Avoid the mad man.

Amyn.

Why Pilumnus, Why?

By the dread Ompha, spare this guilty blood, And I'le expound the Oracle.

Amyn.

What fire has yet his bloud or quench't or kindled?

Pil.

Why it hath quencht the sadder flames of love, And more auspitious fires begin to move.

Amyn.

Where? in what brest? No love in all Trinacria But under Cupids scepter faints and groanes More now then ever. Thy unfortunate Damon, And more unfortunate Amarillis stand A sad example; Thy Vrania (O sad sweet name!) may with her poore Amintas Witnesse his tyrannous reigne: here in Sicilia Turtles grow jealous, Doves are turn'd unchast, The very Pellica•…•…s of Trinacria•…•… woods Are found unnaturall, and thirst the bloud Of their young brood, (alas who can believe it?) Whom they were wont to suckle with their own. O wretched season! Bitter fruits of love! The very Storks with us are Parricides. Nay even the senselesse trees are sensible Of this imperious rage: the gentle Vine (The happy embleme once of happier Lovers) That with such amorous twines, and close imbraces Did cling about the loved-loving elme, With slacker branches now falls down and withers: If then to adde more fuell to the flame, To powre in oyle and sulphure be to quench it, The flame is quench'd. Nor are you hee, Pilumnus, That must expound the Oracle, 'Tis a witt

Such as mine is neglected, that must hit The Goddesse meaning: you, the living Oracle Of Sicilie, the breathing Ompha of the Kingdome Will misconceive the Goddesse; you are wise Skil'd in the vertues of all herbs, and flowers, What makes our Ewes ean best, what keeps thē sound; Can tell us all the mysteries of heaven, The number, height, and motion of the starres; Tis a mad brain, an intellect, you scorne That must unty this riddle.

Pil.

But I know The wrath of Ceres cannot be appeas'd But by the bloud of Claius.

Amy.

So it is.

Pil.

How can that bee? yet his accursed gore Hath not imbru'd the Altar.

Amyn.

But his bloud Hath been already shed in Amarillis: Shee is his bloud, so is Vrania yours, And Damon is your bloud; That is the bloud The Goddesse aimes at, that must still her ire, For her bloud hath both quench't and kindled fire.

Pil.

What hath it quencht or kindled?

Amyn.

Love, the fire That must be quench't and kindled. Damons love To his Laurinda in that bloud extinguish'd, Is by that powerfull bloud kindled anew To Amarillis, now grown his desire: Thus Claius bloud hath quench't and kindled fire.

All.

Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas.

Pil.

And is the fire of my Damon kindled But to be quench't againe: Ceres! a frost Dwell on thy Alters, ere my zeale renew Religious fires to warme'em.

Amyn.

Spare these blasphemies, For Damon is acquitted & affoil'd Of any trespasse.

Pil.

How Amyntas? speake! Thou that hast sav'd a Father, save a sonne.

Amyn.

Thus, Amarillis is the Sacrifice The Goddesse aim'd at: and the bloud of Sacrifice (As you all know) may lawfully be spilt Even in the Holy vale, and so it was; Besides your Damon is a Priest by birth, And therefore by that Title, he may spill The sacrifized Amarillis bloud. If this interpretation be not true, Speak you Sicilians, I'le be judg'd by you.

All.

Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas.

Pil.

Amyntas, thou hast now made full amends For my Philebus death; Claius all envy, Envy the viper of a venemous soule Shall quit my brest: This is the man, Sicilians, The man to whom you owe your liberties; Goe Virgins, and with Roses strow his way, Crowne him with violets, and lilly wreathes; Cut off your golden tresses, and from them Weave him a robe of love: Damon, pay here The debt of duty that thou ow'st to mee; Hence was thy second birth.

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Da.

Or hither rather: The Balsame of Sicilia flowed from hence, Hence from this scarlet torrent, whose each drop Might ransome Cupid were he captive tane.

Amaril.

How much owe I my Damon, whose blest hand Made mee the publique sacrifice! could I shed As many drops of blood, even from the heart, As Arethusa drops of water can, I would outvie her at the fullest tide, That other Virgins loues might happy be, And mine my Damon be as blest in thee.

Clai.

O what a showre of joy falls from mine eyes! The now too fortunate Claius! my Amyntas, My Amarillis, how shall I divide My teares and joyes betwixt you!

Pil.

Lovers come, Come all with flowry chaplets on your browes, And singing Hymmes to Ceres, walk around This happy village; to expresse our glee This day each yeare shall Cupids triumphs bee.

Amyn.

Still my impossible Dowry for Vrania Leaves mee unfortunate in the mid'st of joy; Yet out of piety I will heere a while (Though blest I am not 'till she be my bride) In publique joyes lay private griefes aside.

Exeunt cum Choro cantantium▪

Io.

And I'le goe fetch the youngsters of the towne, The mortall Fairies, and the lasses browne, To bring spic'd cakes, and ale, to dance and play,

Queen Mab her selfe shall keepe it holy-day.

Exit.

Mop.

Ah Dorilas that I could not have the wit To have been a mad man rather then a foole. I have lost the credit.

Dor.

Tis no matter You shall have Thestylis,

Mop.

Shall I, Dorylas, I had as live interpret her as Oracles.

Dor.

And here she comes, give mee your quaile pipe, harke you.—

Exit.

Enter Thestylis.

Mop.

Now, Thestylis, thou shalt mine Oracle bee, Hence forth I will interpret none but thee.

Thes.

Why haue the birds (my Mopsus) councel'd so?

Mop.

They say I must, whether you will or noe.

Thes.

How know I that?

Mop.

The birds doe speak it plain.

Dorilas with a quaile pipe.

Harke, Thestylis, the birds say so again.

Thes.

I understand them not.

Mop.

Will you be judg'd By th'next we meet?

Thes.

Mopsus, I am content, So you will stand unto it as well as I.

Mop.

By Ceres, Thestylis, most willingly.

Enter Dorylas.

Mop.

Ah Dorilus, heard you what the birds did say?

Dor.

I Mopsus, you are a happy man to day.

Mop.

What said they boy?

Dor.

As if you did not know.

Mop.

But Thestylis.

Dor.

Why sure she understands it, Have you to her this language never read?

Mop.

No, Dorylas, I can teach her best in bed.

Dor.

The Birds said twice: (as you full well doe know) You must have Thestylis whether she will or no.

Thes.

And am I caught? Tis no great matter though; For this time Mopsus I will marry thee; The next I wed, by Pan, shall wiser bee!

Mop.

And have I got thee? thankes my witty boy.

Do.

Harke, Thestylis, the birds doe bid you joy.

Thes.

For fooling Mopsus, now 'tis time give ore.

Mop.

Mad man I may, but will be foole no more.

Thes.

Mad after marriage as a foole before. For hee's a foole that weds, all wives being bad; And shee's a foole makes not her husband mad.

SCEN. 6.

Iocastus with a Morrice, himselfe maid Marrian, Bromius the Clowne.

Dor.

See, Mopsus, see, here comes your Fairy brother, Hark you, for one good turne deserves another.

Exeunt Dor. Mop.

Iocast.

I did not think there had been such delight In any mortall Morrice, they doe caper Like quarter Fairies at the least: by my Knight-hood, And by this sweet Mellisonant Tingle tangle, The ensigne of my glory, you shall bee Of Oberons Revels.

Bro.

What to doe I pray?

To dance away your Apples.

Iocas.

Surely mortall, Thou art not fit for any office there.

Enter Dorylas like the King of Fairies. Mopsus.

Io.

See, blind mortall, see, With what a port, what grace, what majesty This princely Oberon comes, your Grace is welcome.

Do.

A beauteous Lady, bright, and rare, Queen Mab her selfe is not so faire.

Io.

Does your grace take me for a woman then?

Do.

Yes beauteous virgin; Thy each part Has shot an arrow through my heart; Thy blazing eye, thy lip so thinne, Thy azure cheek, & christall chinne, Thy rainbow brow, with many a rose; Thy saphyre eares, and ruby nose, All wound my soule, O gentle be Or Lady you will ruin mee.

Io.

Bromius, what shall I doe? I am no woman! If geelding of me will preserve your grace, With all my heart.

Bro.

No master, let him rather Steale away all your orchard Apples.

Io.

I and shall, Beauteous Queen Mab may loose her longing else.

Do.

How's this? are you no woman then? Can such bright beauty live with men?

Io.

An't please your grace I am your Knight Iocastus.

Do.

Indeed I thought no man but hee Could of such perfect beauty bee.

Io.

Cannot your Grace distill me to a woman.

Do.

I have an hearb, they Moly call, Can change thy shape (my sweet) and shall. To tast this Moly but agree, And thou shalt perfect woman bee.

Io.

With all my heart; nere let me move But I am up to th'eares in love. But what if I doe marry thee?

Do.

My Queene Iocasta thou shalt bee:

Io.

Sweet Moly! pray let Bromius have some Moly too, Hee'l make a very pretty waiting maid.

Bro.

No indeed forsooth, you have Ladies enough al∣ready.

Do.

Halfe your estate then give to mee, Else, you being gone, there none will be, Whose Orchard I dare here frequent.

Io.

Sweet Oberon, I am content.

Do.

The other halfe let Mopsus take.

Io.

And Thestylis a joynture make.

Bro.

Why master, are you mad?

Io.

Your mistrisse sirrah. Our grace has said it, and it shall be so.

Bro.

What, will you give away all your estate?

Io.

We have enough beside in Fairy land. You Thestylis shall be our maid of honour.

Thes.

I humbly thank your Grace.

Io.

Come Princely Oberon, I long to tast this Moly: pray bestow The Knight-hood of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle, Vpon our brother Mopsus, we will raise

All of our house to honours.

Mop.

Gracious sister!

Io.

I alwaies thought I was borne to be a Queene.

Do.

Come let us walke, majestique Queene, Of Fairy mortalls to be seene. In chaires of Pearle thou plac't shalt bee, And Empresses shall envy thee, When they behold upon our throne Iocasta with her—Dorilas.

All.

Ha, ha, ha!

Io.

Am I deceiv'd and cheated, guld and foold?

Mop.

Alas sir you were borne to be a Queene.

Io.

My lands, my livings, and my orchard gone?

Dor.

Your grace hath said it, and it must be so.

Bro.

You have enough beside in Fairy land.

Thes.

What would your Grace command your maid of honour?

Dor.

Well I restore your lands: only the orchar'd I will reserve for fear Queen Mab should long.

Mop.

Part I'le restore unto my liberall sister In leiw of my great Knighthood.

Thes.

Part give I.

Io.

I am beholding to your liberality.

Bro.

I'le some thing give as well as doe the rest, Take my fooles coat, for you deserve it best.

Io.

I shall grow wiser.

Dor.

Oberon will be glad on't

Thes.

I must goe call Vrania that she may Come vow Virginity.

Exit.

SCEN. 7.

• Pilumnus.
• Amyntas. &c.

Amyn.

Ceres, I doe thank thee, That I am author of this publique joy: But is it justice (Goddesse) I alone Should have no share in't? Every one I see Is happy but my selfe that made 'em so, And my Vrania that should most be so. I thirst amidst the Bowles; when others sit Quaffing off Nectar, I but hold the cup; And stand a sadder Tantalus of love, Starving in all this plenty; Cere's Demand Feeds mee with gall; stretching my doubtfull thoughts On many thousand racks: I would my Dowry Was all the gold of Tagas, or the ore Of bright Pactolus channell:—But, Vrania, Tis hid, alas I know not what it is.

SCEN. 8.

• Vrania.
• Thestylis.

My Thestylis, since first the Sea-gods Trident Did rule the small three pointed peece of earth Of this our conquering soile, it has not been A place of so much story as to day, So full of wonders: O 'twill serve (my Thestylis) For our discourse when we goe fol'd our Ewes,

Those Sheapheards that another day shall keep Their Kiddes upon these mountaines shall for ever Relate the miracle to their wondring Nymphs, Of my Vrania; it will fill their eares With admiration.

Thes.

Sir, Vrania's here.

Amyn.

How! in this habit! This me thinks befits not A Lover, my Vrania.

Vra.

Yes, Amyntas. This habit well befits a Virgins life. For since my Dowry never can be paid Thus for thy sake I'le live and dye a maid.

Amyn.

O is it just, so faire a one as you Should vow Virginity? must the sacred womb Of my Vrania fit to have brought forth A fruitfull race of Gods, be ever barren? Never expect Lucina? shall this beauty Live but one age? how curs'd is our posterity That shall have no Vrania's! can one Tombe Contain all goodnesse? Ceres rather blast The corne thou gav'st us: let the earth grow barren; These trees, and flowers wither eternally; Let our Plowes toyle in vaine; and let there be No more a harvest: Every losse is small, Yea though the Phaenix selfe should burne to ashes And nere revive again! But let there be Some more Vrania's—

Pilum.

Tis necessity, We must obey.

Amyn.

But yet Vrania,

I hope we may sometimes come pray together; 'Tis not prophane, and mid'st our sacred Orisons Change a chast kisse or two; or shall I too Turne Virgin with thee?—But I foole my selfe, The Gods intend to crosse us, and in vaine We strive (Vrania) to crosse them again.

Vrania kneeling before the Ompha.

Vran.

Great Ceres, for thy daughter Proserpines sake Ravisht by Pluto from Sicilian plaines To raigne with him Queen of Elysian shades, Accept the sacrifice of a Virgin, for It is thy Pleasure, thine, by whom the earth And every thing growes fruitfull, to have mee Be ever barren: Thy impossible Dowry, Makes me despaire to be Amyntas bride; Therefore that cold chast snow that never should Have melted but betwixt his amorous armes I vow unto thy Cloyster (Awfull Goddesse!) Almighty Ceres, is not this life holy

Echo.

Folly.

Better then live in an unhappy love?

Ec.

Happy love▪

Be judge ye woods, & let Amyntas speak.

Ec.

Amyntas, speak.

Pil.

The Goddesse is well pleas'd, she daines to answer By gracious Echo's; goe Amyntas speak.

Amyn.

Why, will she answer mee before Vrania? No, 'twas the musique of her Angels voice, Whose heavenly Accents with such charming notes Ravish'd the Goddesse eares, she could not choose But bear a part in that harmonious song; Yet if she will after such melody Endure to hear the harsh Amyntas speak.

Ec.

Amyntas, speak.

When wilt thou think my torments are enow?

Ec.

Now.

Alas, how is it possible I should hope it?

Echo.

Hope it.

How shall I pay the Dowry that you aske mee?

Echo.

Aske mee.

I aske a Dowry to be made a Husband.

Echo.

A Husband.

Answer directly to what I said last.

Echo.

What I said last.

A Husband, Ceres? Why is that the guesse?

Ec.

Yes.

That which I have not, may not, cannot have,— I have not, may not, cannot have a Husband. Tis true, I am a man, nor would I change My sexe, to be the Empresse of the world. Vrania, take thy Dowry, 'tis my selfe; A Husband, take it.

Vran.

Tis the richest Dowry That ere my most ambitious praiers could beg▪ But I will bring a portion, my Amyntas, Shall equall it, if it can equall'd bee: That which I have not, may not, cannot have Shall be thy portion, 'tis a wife, Amyntas

Amyn.

Should greater Queenes wooe mee in all their Pride, And in their laps bring me the wealth of worlds, I should prefer this portion 'fore the best▪ Thankes Ceres, that hast made us both be blest.

Echo.

Be blest.

Clai.

Pilumnus, let us now grow young againe, And like two trees robb'd of their leafy boughes By winter, age, and Boreas keener breath, Sprout forth and bud again: This spring of joy Cuts forty yeares away from the gray summe. Once more in triumph let us walke the Village!

Pilum.

But first I will intreat this company To deigne to take part in this publique joy.

Pilumnus Epilogizes.

All Loves are happy, none with us there bee, Now sick of coynesse, or unconstancy. The wealthy summes of Kisses doe amount To greater scores then curious art can count! Each eye is fix'd upon his Mistris face, And every arme is lockt in some embrace. Each cheeke is dimpled; every lip doth smile: Such happinesse I wish this blessed Isle, This little world of Lovers: and least you Should think this blisse no reall joyes, nor true, Would every Lady in this orbe might see Their Loves as happy as we say they be! And for you gentle youths, whose tender hearts Are not shot proofe 'gainst love and Cupids darts; These are my Prayrs, (I would those prayrs were charmes) That each had here his Mistrisse in his armes. True Lovers, (for tis truth gives love delight) To you our Authors only means to wright. If he have pleas'd (as yet he doubtfull stands) For his applause clap lips instead of Hands. He beggs nor Bayes, nor Ivy; only this, Seale his wisht Plaudite with an amorous Kisse.

Exeunt Cantantes.

FINIS.