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. IIII. SCEN. I.

Thirsis solus

I Thought these simple woods, these gentle trees Would, in regard I am their daily guest, And harbour vnderneath their shadie roofes, Not haue consented to delude my griefes;

And mock my miseries with false reports: But now I see they will afflict me too.

For as I came by yonder spreading Beech Which often hath the Secretarie beene To my sad thoughts, while I haue rested me (if loue had euer rest) vnder his gentle shade, I found incaru'd, and faire incaru'd, these words: Thy Siluia, Thirsis, liues; and is return'd. Ah me, that any hand would thus adde scorne Vnto affliction; and a hand so faire As this may seeme to be; which were more fit, Me thinkes, for good, then to doe iniurie; For sure no vertue should be ill imployd.

And which is more; the name of Siluia was Caru'd in the selfe same kinde of character Which shee aliue did vse, and where with all Subscrib'd her vowes to me, who knowes it best; Which shews the fraud the more, & more the wrōg. Therefore you stars of that high court of heauen, Which do reueale deceits, and punish them, Let not this crime, to feit a hand To couzin my desires, escape your doome. Nor let these riots of intrusion, made Vpon my louenesse, by strange company Afflict me thus, but let me haue some rest.

Come then, refresher of all liuing things, Soft sleepe, come gently, and take truce with these Oppressours, but come simple and alone, VVithout these images of fantasie,

Which hurt me more then thou canst do me good: Let me not sleepe, vnlesse I could sleepe all.

SCEN. II.

Palaemon. Thirsis.

ALas, he here hath laid him downe to rest, It were now sinne his quiet to molest; And God forbid I should; I will retire And leaue him, for I know his griefes require This poore releeuement of a little sleepe.

Thi.

What spirit here haunts me? what no time free? Ah, is it you Palaemon? would to God You would forbeare me but a little while: You shew your care of me too much in this: Vnseasonable loue, skarce kindnesse is.

Pal.

Good Thirsis, I am sorie I should giue The least occasion of disease to you; I will be gone and leaue you to your rest.

Thi.

Doe good Palaemon, goe your way, farewell; And yet Palaemon stay, perhaps you may By charmes you haue, cause sleep to close mine eies; For you were wont, I doe remember well, To sing me Sonnets, which in passion I Composed in my happier daies, when as Her beames inflam'd my spirits, which now are set.

And if you can remember it, I pray Sing me the song, which thus begins: Eyes hide my loue, Which I did write vpon the earnest charge Shee gaue vnto me, to conceale our loue.

The Song.

Eyes hide my loue, and doe not shew To any but to her my notes, Who onely doth that cipher know, Wherewith we passe our secret thoughts: Belie your lookes in others sight; And wrong your selues to doe her right.

Pal.

So now he sleeps, or else doth seeme to sleep; But howsoeuer, I will not trouble him.

SCEN. III.

Clarindo. Thirsis

SEe where he lies, whom I so long to see; Ah my deere Thirsis, take thy quiet rest, I know thou needst it, sleepe thy fill, sweete loue Let nothing trouble thee: be calme oh windes, Be still you heards, chirp not so loud sweet birds, Lest you should wake my loue: thou gentle banke

That thus art blest to beare so deare a weight, Be soft vnto those dainty lymmes of his, Plie tender grasse, and render sweet refresh Vnto his wearie senses, whilst he rests.

Oh could I now but put off this disguise, VVith those respects that fetter my des••••••••: How closely could I neighbour that sweet side? But stay, he stirres; I feare my heart hath brought My feete too neere, and I haue wakened him.

Thi.

It will not be, sleepe is no friend of mine, Or such a friend, as leaues a man, when most He needes him. See a new assault: who now? Ah tis the boy that was with me erewhiles, That gentle boy; I am content to speake With him, he speakes so pretily, so sweet, And with so good respectiue modesty: And much resembles one I knew once well: Come hither gentle boy, what hast thou there?

Cla.

A token sent you from the nymph I serue.

Thi.

Keepe it my boy, and weare it on thy head.

Cla.

The gods forbid, rhat I, a seruant, should Weare on my head, that which my mistresse hath Prepar'd for yours: Sir, I beseech you vrge No more a thing so ill becomming me.

Thi.

Nay sure I thinke, it better will become Thy head then mine; and therefore boy, thou must Needes put it on.

Cla.

I trust you lo••enesse hath not so Vnciuil'd you, to force a messenger

To doe against good manners, and his will.

Thi.

No, good my boy, but I intreate thee now Let me but put it on, hold still thy head, It shall not be thy act, but onely mine: Let it alone good boy, for if thou saw'st How well it did become thee, sure thou wouldst. Now, canst thou sing my boy some gentle song?

Cla.

I cannot sing, but I could weepe.

Thi.

VVeepe, why?

Cla.

Because I am not as I wish to be.

Thi.

VVhy so are none; be not dipleas'd for this; And if you cannot sing, tell me some tale To passe the time.

Cla.

That can I doe, did I but know what kinde Of tale you lik'd.

Thi.

No merry tale my boy, nor yet too sad, But mixed, like the tragicke Comedies.

Cla.

Then such a tale I haue, and a true tale, Beleeue me Sir, although not written yet In any booke, but sure it will, I know Some gentle shepheard, moou'd with passion, must Record it to the world, and well it will Become the world to vnderstand the same. And this it is: There was sometimes a nymph, Isulia nam'd, and an Arcadian borne; Faire can I not avouch shee was, but chaste, And honest sure, as the euent will prooue; VVhose mother dying, left her very young Vnto her fathers charge, who carefully

Did breed her vp, vntill shee came to yeares Of womanhood, and then prouides a match Both rich, and young, and fit ynough for her.

But shee, who to another shepheard had Call'd Sirthis, vow'd her loue, as vnto one Her heart esteem'd more worthy of her loue, Could not by all her fathers meanes be wrought To leaue her choice; and to forgoe her vow.

Thi.

No more could my deere Siluia be from me.

Cla.

Which caused much affliction to the both,

Thi.

And so the selfe same cause did vnto vs.

Cla.

This nymph one day, surcharg'd with loue & griefe, Which comonly (the more the pittie) dwel As Inmates both together, walking forth With other maydes, to fish vpon the shore; Estrayes apart, and leaues her companie, To entertaine her selfe with her owne thoughts: And wanders on so far, and out of sight, As shee at length was sudainely surpriz'd By Pyrats, who lay lurking vnderneath Those hollow rocks, expecting there some prize. And notwithstanding all her pittious cryes, Intreaty, teares, and prayes, those feirce men Rent haire, and vaile, and caried her by force Into their ship, which in a little Creeke Hard by, at Anckor lay, and presently hoys'd saile, And so away. Thi. Rent haire and vaile? and so Both haire and vaile of Siluia, I found rent, Which heere I keepe with mee. But now alas

What did shee? what became of her my boy?

Cla.

VVhen she was thus in shipp'd, and woefully Had cast her eyes about to view that hell Ofhorrour, whereinto she was so sudainely Implung'd, shee spies a women sitting with a child Sucking her breast, which was the captaines wife. To her she creepes, downe at her feet she lyes; O woman, if that name of woman may Moue you to pittie, pittie a poore maid, The most distressed soule that euer breath'd. And saue me from the hands of these feirce men, Let me not be defil'd, and made vncleane, Deare woman now: and I will be to you The faithfull'st slaue that euer mistres seru'd; Neuer poore soule shall be more dutifull, To doe what euer you command, then I. No toile will I refuse; so that I may Keepe this poore body cleane and vndeflowr'd, Which is all I will euer seeke. For know It is not feare of death laies me thus low, But of that stain wil make my death to blu sh.

Thi.

VVhat, would not all this mooue the womans hart?

Cla.

Al this would nothing moue the womans hart, VVhom yet she would not leaue, but still besought; Oh woman, by that infant at your breast, And by the paines it cost you in the birth, Saue me, as euer you desire to haue Your babe to ioy and prosper in the world. VVhich will the better prosper sure, if you

Shall mercy shew, which is with mercy paid.

Then kisses shee her feet, then kisses too The infants feete, and oh sweet babe (said shee) Could'st thou but to thy mother speake for me, And craue her to haue pittie on my case; Thou mightst perhaps prevaile with her so much Although I cannot; child, ah could'st thou speake.

The infant, whether by her touching it Or by instinct of nature, seeing her weepe, Lookes earnestly vpon her, and then lookes Vpon the mother, then on her againe, And then it cryes, and then on either lookes: Which shee perceauing, blessed childe, said shee, Although thou canst not speake, yet do'st thou cry Vnto thy mother for me. Heare thy childe Deare mother, it's for mee it cryes, It's all the speech it hath: accept those cryes, Saue me at his request from being defilde; Lett pittie moue thee, that thus mooues thy childe.

The woman, though by birth and custome rude. Yet hauing veynes of nature, could not bee But peircible, did feele at length the point Of pittie, enter so, as out gusht teares (Not vsuall to sterne eyes) and shee besought Her husband, to bestow on her that prize. VVith safegard of her body, at her will.

The captaine seeing his wife, the childe, the nymph, All crying to him in this pittious sort; Felt his rough nature shaken too, and grants

His wiues request, and seales his graunt with teares; And so they wept all foure for company, And some beholders stood not with dry eies; Such passion wrought the passion of their prize.

Thi.

In troth my boy, and euen thy telling it Moues me likewise, thou doost so feelingly Report the same, as if thou hadst bene by. But I imagine now how this poore nymph VVhen she receiu'd that doome, was comforted?

Cla.

Sir, neuer was there pardon, that did take Condemned from the blocke, more ioyfull then This graunt to her. For all her misery Seem'd nothing to the comfort she receiu'd. By being thus saued from impurity: And from the womans feet she would not part, Nor trust her hand to be without some hold Of her, or of the childe, so long as shee remaind VVithin the ship, which in few daies arriues At Alexandria, whence these pirats were; And there this woefull maide for two yeares space Did serue, and truly serue this captains wife, VVho would not lose the benefit of her Attendance for ••ll her profit otherwise. But daring not in such a place as that To trust her selfe in womans habite, crau'd That she might be appareld like a boy, And so she was, and as a boy she seru'd.

Thi.

And two yeares tis, since I my Siluia lost.

Cla.

At two yeares end, her mistres sends her forth

Vnto the Port for some commodities, Which whilst shee sought for, going vp and downe Shee heard some merchant men of Corinth talke, Who spake that language the Arcadians did, And were next neighbours of one continent.

To them all rapt with passion, down she kneeles, Tels them shee was a poore distressed boy, Borne in Arcadia, and by Pirats tooke And made a slaue in Egypt, and besought Them, as they fathers were of children, or Did hold their natiue countrey deare, they would Take pity on her, and releeue her youth From that sad seruitude wherein shee liu'd: For which shee hop'd that shee had friends aliue Would thanke them one day, & reward them too; If not, yet that, shee knew the heauens would doe. The merchants mou'd with pity of her case, Being ready to depart, tooke her with them, And landed her vpon her countrey coast, VVhere when shee found her selfe, shee prostrate fals, Kisses the ground, thankes giues vnto the Gods, Thankes them who had beene her deliuerers.

And on shee trudges through the desart woods, Climes ouer craggie rockes, and mountaines steep, VVades thorough riuers, struggles thorough bogs, Sustained onely by the force of loue; Vntill shee came vnto the natiue plaines, Vnto the fields, where first shee drew her breath.

There lifts shee vp her eyes, salutes the ayre,

Salutes the trees, the bushes, flowres, and all: And oh deare Sirthis, here I am, said shee, Here, notwithstanding all my miseries. I am the same I was to thee; a pure, A chaste, and spotlesse maide: oh that I may Finde thee the man, thou didst professe to be.

Thi.

Or else no man; for boy who truly loues, Must euer so; that dye will neuer out: And who but would loue truly such a soule?

Cla.

But now, the better to haue notice how The state of things then stood, and not in haste To cast her selfe on new incumbrances, Shee kept her habite still, and put her selfe To serue a nymph, of whom shee had made choice Till time were fitting to reueale her selfe.

Thi.

This may be Siluias case; this may be shee; But it is not: let me consider well: The teller, and the circumstance agree.

SCEN. III.

Montanus. Thirsis. Chorus.

AH sirrha, haue I found you? are you here You princock boy? and with your garland on? Doth this attire become your peeuish head? Come, I must teach you better manners, boy.

He stabs Clarindo, and rashes off his garland.

So Phillis, I haue done my taske, and here I bring the Trophey to confirme the same.

Thi.

Ah monster man, vile wretch, what hast thou done? Alas, in what a strait am I ingaged here? If I pursue reuenge, l leaue to saue. Help, help, you gentle swaines, if any now be neere, beast Help, help: ah harke cuē Eccho helps me crie

Cho.

What meanes this outcrie? sure some sauage Disturbs our heards, or else some wolfe hath seaz'd Vpon a Lambe. Thi. A worse thing then a wolfe, More bloudy then a beast, hath murthered here A gentler creature then a lambe: therefore Good swaines pursue, pursue the homicide. That ougly wretch, Montanus, who hath stabd This sily creature here, at vnawares.

Cho.

Montanus? why, we met him but euen now, Deckt with a garland, grumbling to himselfe; We will attach that villaine presently: Come sirs, make haste, and let vs after him.

SCEN. IIII.

Palaemon. Thirsis.

ALas, what accident is here falne out? My deere friend Thirsis, how comes this to passe?

Thi.

That monster man Montanus, here hath stab'd

A harmlesse youth, in message sent to me. Now good Palaemon help me hold him vp, And see if that we can recouer him.

Pal.

It may be Thirsis, more his feare then hurt: Stay him a while, and I will haste and send For Lamia, who with oyntments, oyle and herbes If any help remayne, will help him sure.

Thi.

Do good Palaemon, make what haste you may Seeke out for help, and be not long away. Alas sweet boy, that thou should'st euer haue So hard misfortune, comming vnto me, And end thy tale with this sad tragedie; That tale which well resembled Siluias case, VVhich thou resemblest; for such browes had she. Such a proportion'd face, and such a necke.

VVhat haue we here, the mole of Siluia too? VVhat and her breasts? what? and her haire? what all? All Siluia? yes, all Siluia, and all dead. And art thou thus return'd againe to me? Art thou thy selfe, that strange deliuered nymphe? And didst thou come to tell me thine escape From death to die before me? had I not Ynough to doe, to wayle reported harmes But thou must come to bleed within my armes? VVas not one death sufficient for my greifes But that thou must die twice? why thou wert dead To me before. Why? must thou dye againe? Ah, better had it bene still to be lost Then thus to haue bene found; yet better found

Though thus, then so lost as was thought before. For howsoeuer, now I haue thee yet Though in the saddest fashion that may be. Yet Siluia now I haue thee, and will I No more for euer part with thee againe: And we this benefit shall haue thereby Though fate would not permit vs both to haue Onebed, yet Siluia we shall haue one graue. And that is something, and much more then I Expected euer could haue come to passe.

And sure the gods but only sent thee thus To fetch me; and to take me hence with thee; And Siluia so thou shalt. I ready am T'accompany thy soule, and that with speed. The strings I feele, are all dissolu'd, that hold This wofull heart, reseru'd it seemes for this: And well reseru'd, for this so deare an end.

SCEN. V.

Chorus. Palaemon.

SO, we haue tooke the villaine, and him bound Fast to an Oake, as rugged as himselfe. And there he stares and gapes in th'ayre, and raues Like a wilde beast, that's taken in the toyle: And so he shall remaine, till time we see

What will become of this his sauage act.

Pa:

Cheere Thirsis, Lamia will come presently And bring the best preseruatiues she hath. VVhat now? VVho lyes discouered here? Ay me, A woman dead? Is this that boy transform'd? VVhy, this is Siluia, O good Thirsis how Comes this to passe? Friend Thirsis, Thirsis speake. Good Thirsis tell me. Out alas he sownes, As well as she, and both seeme gone alike.

Come gentle heards men, come and carry them To yonder sheep-cote quickly, that we may (If possible) recouer them againe. If not performe those rites that appertaine Vnto so rare a couple. Come my friends, make hast.

The fourth Song of the Chorus.

Qu. Were euer chast and honest hearts Expos'd vnto so great distresses? Ans. Yes: they that act the worthiest parts, Most commonly haue worst successes. Great fortunes follow not the best, It's vertue that is most distrest.

Then fortune why doe we admire The glory of thy great excesses? Since by thee what men acquire Thy worke and not their worths expresses. Nor dost thou raise them for their good: But t'haue their illes more vnderstood.