Il pastor fido The faithfull shepherd : a pastorall / written in Italian by Baptista Guarini, a Knight of Italie ; and now newly translated out of the originall.

Scena tertia.

CORISCA.

WHo ever saw, what heart did ever prove So strange, fond, impotent a Passion? Love, And cold Disdain (a miracle to me Two contraries should in one subject be

Both in extremes!) I know not how, each other Destroy, and generate; enflame, and smother. When I behold Mirtillo's every grace, From his neat foot to his bewitching face, His unaffected carriage, sweet aspect, Words, actions, looks, and manners, they eject Such flames of love, that every passion Besides seems to be conquerd by this one. But when I think how dotingly he prizes Another woman, and for her despises My almost peerlesse face (although I say't) On which a thousand eyes for alms do wait, Then do I scorn, abhor, and loath him more Then ever I did value him before, And scarce can think it possible that he Had ever any interest in me. O if my sweet Mirtillo were mine own, So that I had him to my self alone! (These are my thoughts sometimes) no mortall wight More blisse could boast of then Corisca might! And then I feel such kindly flames, so sweet A vapour rise, that I could almost meet His love half way; yea, follow him, adore His very steps, and aid from him implore: Nay, I do love him so, I could expire His sacrifice in such a pleasing fire. Then I'm my self again: And what (say I) A proud disdainfull boy! one that doth fly

From me, and love another! that can look Upon this face of mine, and not be strook! But guard himself so well as not to dye For love! Shall I, that should behold him lye Trembling and weeping at these feet of mine (As many better men have done) incline Trembling and weeping at his feet? O no! And with this thought into such rage I grow Against my self, and him, that sounding straight Unto my eyes and fancy a retreat, Mirtillo's name worser then death I seem To hate, and mine own self for loving him; Whom I would see the miserablest swain, The most despised thing that doth remain Upon the earth; and if I had my will, With mine own hands I could the villain kill. Thus like two seas encountring, Hate and Love, Desire and Scorn in me dire battell move: And I (the flame of thousand hearts, the rack Of thousands souls) languish, and burn, and lack That pitie I deny'd to others. I Who have in Cities oft been courted by Gallants and wits, to whom great Lords have bent, And yet withstood vollies of complement, Squadrons of Lovers, jeer'd their idle fires, And with false hopes deluded their desires; And now enforc'd t'a rustick swain to yeild In single sight t'a fellow that's unskill'd!

O thou most wretched of all womankind Corisca! Where couldst thou diversion find Hadst thou no other Lover? how asswage, Or by what means deceive thy amorous rage? Learn women all from me this housewifery, Make you conserve of Lovers to keep by. Had I no Sweet-heart but this sullen Boy, Were I not well provided of a joy? " To extreme want how likely to be hurl'd " Is that ill houswife, who in all the world " But one Love onely, but one Servant hath? Corisca will be no such fool. " What's faith? " What's constancy? Tales which the jealous feign " To awe fond girls: names as absurd as vain. " Faith in a woman (if at least there be Faith in a woman unreveal'd to me) " Is not a vertue, nor a heavenly grace, " But the sad penance of a ruin'd face, " That's pleas'd with one, cause it can please no more. " A handsome woman sought unto by store " Of gallant youths, if pleas'd with one alone No woman is, or is a foolish one. " What's beauty (tell me) if not view'd? or view'd, " If not pursu'd? or if pursu'd, pursu'd " By one alone? Where Lovers frequent are, " It is a signe the partie lov'd is rare, " Glorious and bright. A womans honour is " T' have many Servants: Courtly Dames know this,

Who live in Towns, and those most practise it Who have most wealth, most beauty, and most wit. 'Tis clownishnesse (say they) to reject any, And folly too, since that's perform'd by many, One cannot do: One Officer to wait, A second to present, a third to prate, A fourth for somewhat else; so it doth fall Out oft, that favours being generall No favours seem: or jealousie thus throwne To whet them, all are easier kept then one. This merry life is by great Ladies led In Towns, and 'twas my fortune to be bred with one of them; by whose example first, Next by her rules, I in Loves art was nurst Up from my childhood: she would often say, " Corisca, thou must use another day " Thy Lovers like thy garments, put on one, " Have many, often shift, and wear out none. " For daily conversation breeds distast, " Distast contempt, and loathing at the last. Then get the start, let not the servant say, H'as turnd his Mistresse, not she him, away. And I have kept her rules: I've choice, and strive To please them all: to this my hand I give, And wink on him; the handsom'st I admit Into my bosome; but not one shall get Into my heart: and yet I know not how (Ay me!) Mirtillo's crept too neer it now.

He made me sigh, not sigh as heretofore To give false fire, but true flames to deplore; Robbing my limbs of rest, my eyes of sleep, Ev'n I can watch till the gray morning peep (The discontented Lovers truce); ev'n I (Strange change!) to melancholy walks can fly; And through the gloomy horrors of this grove Trace the sweet footsteps of my hated Love. What wilt thou do, Corisca? sue? my hate Permits not this, nor stands it with my State. Wilt thou then fly him? That would shew more brains, But Love sayes no to that: What then remains? First I will try allurements, and discover The love to him, but will conceal the Lover; I'll use deceipts, if that avail me not; And if those sail me too, my brain shall plot A brave revenge: Mirtillo shall partake Hate, if he spurn at Love; and I will make His Amarillis rue, that she was ere A Rivall unto me, to him so deer. Last I will teach you both what 'tis to move A woman to abhor where she did love.