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.

Manent SILVIO, DORINDA.

Sil.

(IN fine, th'ast got no harm.) Now let me see Where is this Doe which thou hast promis'd me.

Dor.

Alive or dead woul'dst have her?

Sil.

Strange demand! Alive after the Dog hath kil'd her?

Dor.

And If the Dog kild her not?

Sil.

Alive is she?

Dor.

Alive.

Sil.

The deerer then the prey to me: And had my deer Melampo so much art As not to hurt her?

Dor.

Onely in the heart She had a little prick.

Sil.

Either th'art mad, Dorinda, or dost mock me. If shee had A prick i'th' heart, how can she live?

Dor.

The Doe I speak of, I am, cruell Silvio: Hurt by thee, without being hunted; Take me, I am alive; but dead, if thou forsake me.

Sil.

Is this that Doe? that prey?

Dor.

Ev'n this: why now Art thou so discontented? Dost not thou Love a Nymph better then a beast?

Sil.

My hate Thou art, brute, lyar, vile, importunate.

Dor.

Is this the guerdon, cruell Silvio?

Is this the meed thou dost on me bestow, Ungratefull youth? Take thy Melampo free, And me and all, so thou come back to me: The rest I do remit. Let me be plac't But in the sun-shine thy fair eyes do cast. Truer then thy Melampo I will trace Thy steps, and when th'art wearied with the chase I'le wipe thy sweating brow, and on this brest (Which cannot rest for thee) thy head shall rest: I'le bear thy arrowes, and thy quiver bear Through these rough woods; and if there want game there, Shoot at Dorinda's bosome. At this white Set thy good bow, when ere it shoots not right. For I'le be both the prey (if thou think fit) To keep in ure, and drudge to carry it; Thy arrows, quiver, and their Butt to hit. But to whom do I talk? Alas! to thee That hear'st me not, and fly'st away from me? But wherefoe're thou fly (curs'd Silvio) Dorinda will fly after thee: although To hell it self, if any hell there be Worse then my Love is, and thy Crueltie.