Hymens triumph A pastorall tragicomædie. Presented at the Queenes court in the Strand, at her Maiesties magnificent entertainement of the Kings most excellent Maiestie, being at the nuptials of the Lord Roxborough. By Samuel Daniel.

ACT. III. SCEN. I.

Charinus, the father of Thirsis. Palaemon.

PAlaemon, you me thinkes might something work With Thirsis my aggreeued sonne, and sound His humour what it is: and why he thus Afflicts himselfe in solitarinesse. You two were wont to be most inward friends, And glad I was to see it; knowing you To be a man well tempred, fit to sort VVith his raw youth; can you doe nothing now, To win him from this vile captiuity Of passion, that withholdes him from the world?

Pal.

In troth, Charinus, I haue oftentimes, As one that suffred for his grieuances, Assayd to finde a way into the cause Of his so strange dismay; and by all meanes Aduis'd him make redemption of himselfe, And come to life againe, and be a man With men: but all serues not, I finde him lockt Fast to his will, alleadge I what I can.

Char.

But will he not impart to you the cause?

Pal.

The cause is loue; but it is such a loue, As is not to be had.

Cha.

Not to be had? Palaemon, if his loue beregular,

Is there in all Arcadia any shee, Whom his ability, his shape, and worth May not attaine, he being my onely sonne?

Pal.

Shee is not in Arcadia whom he loues, Nor in the world, and yet he deerely loues.

Cha.

How may that be, Palaemon? tell me plaine.

Pal.

Thus plainly; he's in loue with a dead woman, And that so farre, as with the thought of her Which hath shut out all other, he alone Liues, and abhorres to be, or seene, or knowne.

Cha.

What was this creature could possesse him so?

Pal.

Faire Siluia, old Medorus daughter, who Was two yeares past reported to be slaine By sauage beasts vpon our countrey shore.

Cha.

Is that his griefe? alas, I rather thought It appertain'd vnto anothers part To wayle her death: Alexis should doe that To whom her father had disposed her, And shee esteemed onely to be his. Why should my sonne afflict him more for her, Then doth Alexis, who this day doth wed Faire Galatea, and forgets the dead? And here the shepheards come to celebrate His ioyfull nuptials with all merriment, Which doth increase my cares, considering The comforts other parents doe receiue: And therefore good Palaemon worke all meanes You can to win him from his peeuish will, And draw him to these shewes, to companies,

That others pleasures may inkindle his.

And tell him what a sinne he doeth commit, To waste his youth in solitarinesse, And take a course to end vs all in him.

Pal.

Assure your selfe Charinus, as I haue So will I still imploy my vtmost powre, To saue him; for me thinks it pittie were, So rare a peece of worth should so be lost, That ought to be preserued at any cost.

ACT. III. SCEN. II.

Charinus. Medorus.

MEdorus come, we two must sit, and mourne Whilst others reuell. We are not for sports, Or nuptiall shewes, which will but shew vs more Our miseries, in beeing both depriu'd, The comforts of our issue, which might haue (And was as like to haue) made our hearts As ioyfull now, as others are in theirs.

Med.

In deed Charinus, I for my part haue Iust cause to grieue amidst these festiuals, For they should haue been mine. This day I should Haue seene my daughter Siluia how she would Haue womand it; these rites had bene her grace, And shee had sat in Galateas place.

And now had warm'd my heart to see my bloud Preseru'd in her; had shee not beene so rapt And rent from off the liuing as shee was. But your case is not pararell with mine, You haue a sonne, Charinus, that doth liue, And may one day to you like comforts giue.

Cha.

Indeed I haue a sonne; but yet to say he liues, I cannot; for who liues not to the world, Nor to himselfe, cannot be said to liue: For euer since that you your daughter lost, I lost my sonne: for from that day he hath Imbrak d in shades and solitarinesse, Shut himselfe vp from sight or company Of any liuing: and as now I heard, By good Palaemon, vowes still so to doe.

Med.

And did your sonne, my daughter loue so deare? Now good Charinus, I must grieue the more, If more my heart could suffer then it doth; For now I feele the horrour of my deede, In hauing crost the worthiest match on earth. Now I perceiue why Siluia did refuse To marrie with Alexis, hauing made A worthier choice; which oh had I had grace To haue foreseene, perhaps this dismall chance Neuer had bene, and now they both had had Ioy of their loues, and we the like of them.

But ah my greedy eye, viewing the large And spacious sheep-walkes ioyning vnto mine, Whereof Alexis was possest, made me,

As worldlings doe, desire to marry grounds, And not affections, which haue other bounds. How oft haue I with threats, with promises, VVith all perswasions, sought to win her minde To fancie him, yet all would not preuaile? How oft hath shee againe vpon her knees VVith teares besought me; Oh deare father mine Doe not inforce me to accept a man I cannot fancie: rather take from mee, The life you gaue me, then afflict it so.

Yet all this would not alter mine intent, This was the man shee must affect or none. But ah what sinne was this to torture so A hart forevow'd vnto a better choice, VVhere goodnesse met in one the selfe same point, And vertues answer'd in an equall ioynt? Sure, sure, Charinus, for this sinne of mine The gods bereast me of my childe, and would Not haue her be, to be without her heart, Nor me take ioy where I did none impart.

Cha.

Medorus, thus wee see mans wretchednesse That learnes his errours but by their successe, And when there is no remedie; and now Wee can but wish it had beene otherwise.

Med.

And in that wish Charinus we are rackt; But I remember now I often haue Had shadowesin my sleepe that figures bare Of some such liking twixt your childe and mine. And this last night a pleasing dreame I had

(Though dreams of ioy makes wakers minds more sad) Me thought my daughter Siluia was return'd In most strange fashion, and vpon her knees Craues my good will for Thirsis, otherwise She would be gone againe and seene no more.

I at the sight of my deare childe, was rapt With that excesse of ioy, as gaue no time Either for me to answer her request, Or leaue for sleepe to figure out the rest.

Cha.

Alas Medorus, dreames are vapours, which Ingendred with day thoughts, fall in the night And vanish with the morning; are but made Afflictions vnto man, to th' end he might Not rest in rest, but toyle both day and night.

But see here comes my solitarie sonne: Let vs stand close Medorus out of sight, And note how he behaues hlmselfe in this Affliction, and distressed case of his.

SCEN. III.

Thirsis solus.

THis is the day, the day, the lamentable day Of my destruction, which the Sun hath twice Returnd vnto my griefe, which keepe one course Continually with it in motion like.

But that they neuer set: this day doth claime Th'especiall tribute of my sighes and teares, Though euery day I duely pay my teares Vnto that soule which this day left the world.

And yet I know not why? me thoughts the Sun Arose this day with farre more cheerefull rayes With brighter beames, then vsually it did As if it would bring something of release Vnto my cares, or else my spirit hath had Some manner of intelligence with hope Wherewith my heart is vnacquainted yet: And that might cause mine eie with quicker sence, To note th'appearing of the eye of heauen; But something sure I feele which doth beare vp The weight of sorrow easier then before.

SCEN. IV.

Palaemon. Thirsis.

VVHat Thirsis still in passion? still one man? For shame shew not your selfe so weakely set, So feebly ioynted that you cannot beare The fortunes of the world like other men. Beleeue me Thirsis you much wrong your worth: This is to be no man, to haue no powers. Passions are womens parts, actions ours.

I was in hopet'haue found you otherwise.

Thir.

How? otherwise Palaemon? doe not you Hold it to be a most heroicke thing To act one man, and doe that part exact? Can there be in the world more worthinesse change? Then to be constant? is there any thing Shewes more a man? What, would you haue me That were to haue me base, that were indeed To shew a feeble heart, and weakely set.

No no Palaemon, I should thinke my selfe The most vnworthy man of men, should I But let a thought into this heart of mine That might disturbe or shake my constancie.

And thinke Palaemon I haue combates too, To be the man I am, being built of flesh, And hauing round about me traytors too That seeke to vndermine my powres, and steale Into my weakenesses, but that I keepe Continual watch and ward vpon my selfe, Least I should be surpriz'd at vnawares And taken from my vowes with other snares.

And euen now at this instant I confesse, Palaemon, I doe feele a certaine touch Of comfort, which I feare to entertaine, Least it should be some spie, sent as a traine To make discouery of what strength I am.

Pal.

Ah worthie Thirsis, entertaine that spirit What euer else thou doe: set all the doores Of thine affections open thereunto.

Thir.

Palaemon no. Comfort and I haue beene So long time strangers, as that now I feare To let it in. I know not how t'acquaint My selfe therewith, being vsed to conuerse VVith other humours, that affect me best. Nor doe I loue to haue mixt company VVhereto I must of force my selfe apply.

Pal.

But Thirsis thinke that this must haue an end, And more it would approoue your worth to make The same your work, then time should make it his.

Thir.

End sure it must Palaeman, but with me: For so I by the Oracle was told That very day wherein I lost the day And light of comfort that can neuer rise Againe to mee: when I the faddest man That euer breath'd before those Altars fell, And there besought to know what was become Of my deare Siluta, whether dead, or how Reast from the world: but that I could not learne. Yet thus much did that voice diuine returne: Goe youth, reserue thy selfe, the day will come Thou shalt be happy, and returne againe. But when shall be that day demanded I, The day thou dyest, replide the Oracle.

So that you see, it will not be in these But in th'Elizian fields, where I shall ioy, The day of death must bring me happinesse.

Pal.

You may mistake the meaning of those words Which is not knowne before it be fulfill'd.

Yeeld you to what the gods command, if not Vnto your friends desires: reserue your selfe For better daies, and thinke the Oracle Is not vntrue, although not vnderstood.

But howsoeuer, let it not be said That Thirsis being a man of so rare parts, So vnderstanding and discreete, should pine in loue And languish for a silly woman thus: To be the fable of the vulgar, made Ascorne, and laught at, by inferiour wits.

Thir.

In loue Palaemon? know you what you say? Doe you esteeme it light to be in loue? How haue I beene mistaken in the choice Of such a friend, as I held you to be, That seemes not, or else doth not vnderstand The noblest portion of humanity, The worthiest peece of nature set in man? Ah know that when you mention loue, you name A sacred mistery, a Deity, Not vnderstood of creatures built of mudde, But of the purest and refined clay Whereto th'eternall fires their spirits conuey.

And for a woman, which you prize so low, Like men that doe forget whence they are men; Know her to be th'especiall creature, made By the Creator of the complement Of this great Architect the world; to hold The same together, which would otherwise Fall all asunder: and is natures chiefe

Vicegerent vpon earth, supplies her state.

And doe you hold it weakenesse then to loue? And loue so excellent a miracle As is a worthy woman, ah then let mee Still be so weake, still let me loue and pine In contemplation of that cleane, cleare soule, That made mine see that nothing in the world Is so supreamely beautifull as it.

Thinke not it was those colours white and red Laid but on flesh, that could affect me so. But something else, which thought holds vnder locke And hath no key of words to open it. They are the smallest peeces of the minde That passe this narrow organ of the voice. The great remaine behinde in that vast orbe Ofth apprehension, and are neuer borne.

And therefore if your iudge cannot reach Vnto the vnderstanding of my Case, You doe not well to put your selfe into My Iury, to condemne me as you doe. Let th'ignorant out of their dulnesse laugh At these my sufferings, I will pitty them To haue beene so ill borne, so miscompos'd As not to know what thing it is to loue.

And I to great Apollo here appeale The soueraigne of the Muses, and of all Wel tun'd affections, and to Cinthia bright, And glorious Lady of cleere faithfulnesse; Who from aboue looke down with blisfull beames

Vpon our humble groues, and ioy the hearts Of all the world, to see their mutuall loues; They can iudge what worthinesse there is In worthy loue. Therefore Palaemon peace, Vnlesse you did know better what it were.

And this be sure, when as that fire goes out In man, he is the miserablest thing On earth, his day-light sets, and is all darke And dull within; no motions of delight, But all opprest, lies struggling with the weight Of worldly cares: and this olde Damon saies, Who well had felt what loue was in his daies.

Pal.

Well Thirsis, well, how euer you doe guilde Your passions, to indeere them to your selfe, You neuer shall induce me to beleeue, That sicknesses can be of such effect. And so farewell, vntill you shall be well.

SCEN. V

Medorus. Charinus.

O Gods, Charinus, what a man is this? Who euer heard of such a constancie? Had I but knowne him in enioying him, As now I doe, too late, in losing him, How blest had bene mine age? but ah I was

Vnworthie of so great a blessednesse.

Cha.

You see, Medorus, how no counsell can Preuaile to turne the current of his will, To make it run in any other course Then what it doth; so that I see I must Esteeme him irreuocably lost.

But harke, the shepheards festiuals begin, Let vs from hence, where sadnesse were a sinne.

Here was presented a rurall marriage, con∣ducted with this Song.

From the Temple to the Boord, From the Boord vnto the Bed, We conduct your maidenhead: Wishing Hymen to affoord All the pleasures that he can, Twixt a woman and a man.