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.

Actus Secundus. (Book 2)

Scena Prima.

ERGATSO, MIRTILLO.

Erg.

O What a walk have I had! At the Race, The Mead, Hill, River, Fountain, wrastling Place I've been to seek thee: Heav'n be prais'd, at last I've found thee here.

Mir.

What news requires such haste? Bringst thou me life or death?

Erg.

The last's a thing, Which if I had for thee, I would not bring: The former, though I have not for thee yet, I hope to bring. But why art thou ore-set With thy own sighs? If thou wouldst overcome Another, overcome thy self at home: Breathe, and revy't again—. But to proceed To that which made me seek thee with such speed; The matter's this: Knowst thou (who doth not know?) Ormino's Sister? rather tall then low She is of stature, cherry-cheekt, her hair Inclin'd to red, and of a sprightly ayr.

Mirt.

What is her name?

Erg.

Corisca.

Mir.

Yes, I do Know her, and have conversed with her too.

Erg.

Know then that she (see the good luck on't! What hath been the means to work it I know not, Or on whose score it comes) is grown of late With Amarillis very intimate. Which I perceiving, a relation made Of thy affection unto her, and praid Both her assistance and her secrecie Therein, which she accorded readily.

Mirt.

O blest a thousand thousand times and more Then all (Mirtillo) that ere lov'd before, If this be true: But prethee, did she say Nothing at all unto thee of the way?

Erg.

Nothing as yet, and I will tell thee why: Corisca said, shee could not certainly Determine of the way till she might know Some circumstances of thy love, that so She might be better able to discern The inclination of the Nymph, and learn How to addresse her selfe, with subtilty, Or with intreaties; what t'were best to try, Or what to leave: This was the cause made mee To come so hastily in search of thee. Therefore from first to last thou shalt doe well Thy Love's whole story unto me to tell.

Mirt.

I'le do it. But know Friend, to stir again The bitter memory of Love in vain,

Is like the tossing of a torch about One's head i'th air, thinking to shake it out, When agitation kindles it, and makes The flame cling faster to the melting wax. Or like the tugging of a deep-fixt dart, By which the wound's made greater, and the smart. Most true it is, I shall a tale relate Which will demonstrate the unsure estate Of Lovers hopes, and that how-ere the root Of Love be sweet, it bears a bitter fruit. In that fair season when Day's wheels out-run The Night's ('twas just a twelvemonth since) this Sun Of Beauty, this fair Pilgrim came to bring With her approach as 'twere a second Spring To my then only rich and happy nest, Elis and Pisa with her presence blest; Brought by her Mother in those solemn dayes When Sacrifices and Olympick Playes Through all the world so famous are kept there In honour of the mighty Thunderer. Shows worthy sure of those fair eyes; But those Fair eyes themselves were farre the worthier shows. Whence I, who till that instant never knew What flames of Love did mean, at the first view Of those bright lamps, yeelded, and never fought One stroke against her; for I felt (me thought) Two fiery balls fly whizzing through my liver And Beauty (a bold thief) cry'd Stand, Deliver

Thy heart, Mirtillo.

Erg.

O Love's piercing steel, Which they alone can understand that feel!

Mir.

But now to see what cunning Love suggests Ev'n to the youngest and the simplest brests! I made a deer young Sister of mine own (Who was my cruell Nymph's companion Whilst she in Elis and in Pisa staid) Acquainted with my pain. This silly maid Was all the councell Love allotted me For managing my amorous bus'nesse: she With her own garments decks me in great order, And imps my short hair with a borrow'd border, Then braids it all with flowrs, hanging a bow And Quiver by my side, and last doth show How I should frame my words and count'nance, where No footsteps of a beard did then appear. The hour approached, she conducted me Where my Nymph us'd to play; and there found we Some Noble Megarensian Maids, whom Blood And Love linkt to her, as I understood. 'Mongst them was she like Royall Rose 'mongst low- Born Violets: And when as they had so For a good space without more pastime staid, A Megarensian Virgin rose, and said; What, at a time for Pastime so renown'd Shall we without our sports be idle found! And have not (Sisters) we our weapons then To make mock-fights withall as well as men?

By my advice wee'll practice our arms now Against our selves in jest, as we must do In earnest one day against men: Let's kisse, And wage a kissing warre; and she that gi's The best and sav'rest one, shall have for meed This curious wreath. All laught, and cry'd Agreed. Forthwith, not staying for the word or signe, These eager Amazons in battell joyn: No ranks they kept, no colours knew, nor side, But all confused, and each each defy'd. The Megarensian this perceiving, straight To the disordered Troops sounds a retrait; And after saith; Let her deservedly The Judge of all our kisses be Whose mouth is fairest. With one voice Of peerlesse Amarillis they made choice. She sweetly bending her fair eyes, Her cheeks in modest blushes dyes, To shew through her transparent skin That she is no lesse fair within Then shee's without; or else her countenance Envying the honour done her mouth perchance, Puts on her scarlet robes, as who Should say, And am not I fair too?

Erg.

Blest man to be transform'd at such a time, As if this accident thou couldst divine!

Mirt.

The fair Judge takes her seat, and now renews The amorous fight, according to the use

Of war; by lots they march up one by one, To try their mouthes by hers (the Paragon Of sweetnesse) or (as I may term it well) Of orient pearls a perfum'd Indian shell, And the two lips a two-leav'd Coral door With honyed lock, to ope and shut with more Facility upon the pearly treasure. O my Ergast' that I could tell the pleasure Of those sweet kisses! But do thou hence ghesse it, That mouth which tasted it, cannot expresse it. Extract then all the sweetnesse which remains In Hybla-combs, in Cyprian Sugar-canes, It will be nothing to that world of blisses I suckt from thence.

Erg.

O happy theft! sweet kisses!

Mirt.

Sweet, but yet lame; the better half was missing, The soul which gives perfection to kissing: For though Love gave them, Love restor'd them not.

Erg.

But hadst thou not some fear when 'twas thy lot To kisse?

Mirt.

My heart (Ergasto) to say true, Was at my mouth, and my soul shrunk into A narrow volume; 'twas one kisse, whence all My limbs stood tott'ring like an ill propt wall. And when I came under the battery, And within aim of her sure killing eye, I fear'd the Majesty of that bright look, Lest in the very act I should be took Of theft and guile which I was then about. But straight her count'nance clearing me that doubt

By a serene and unsuspecting smile, I ventur'd boldly on. Love stood the while (Ergasto) like a Bee hid in the leaves Of her lips Roses; and whilst she receives The kisses of my mouth with hers unmov'd And passive, I the honey onely prov'd. But when she active likewise growes, And thrusts out this and t'other rose, (Whether her gayety of heart it was, Or my good luck, for 'twas not love alas) When our two mouthes snapt like a bone well set, And like two tallies that are brothers met, (O my deer sweet and num'rous treasure! Do I out live so great a pleasure?) Then, then I felt the sharp sweet dart, The amorous sting piercing my heart. Which was (it seems) restor'd me then, That I might have it hurt agen. I then, as soon as I had found Her lips had giv'n me my deaths wound, Was ready, like some desperate gasping wight, The weapon which had wounded me to bite: When suddenly her sweet breath, like the blast Of an inspiring Deity, did cast An holy damp upon my sawcy blood, Which all immodest and wild heat withstood.

Erg.

O Modesty, the block and Remora Which ever lies in the true Lovers way!

Mirt.

Now all of them had had their turns, and come With thoughts suspended to attend the doom, When Amarillis judging mine t'exceed All th'others kisses, plac'd the Victors meed (That curious wreath) with her own snowy hand Upon my head. But O! no Lybian sand Beneath the Syrian dog ere broyl'd so much, When he both barks and bites; his rage is such, As my whole heart was then on fire Betwixt fruition and desire. And (being never conquerd half so much As when I was a Conqu'ror) such My boldnesse was, that from my head I reacht the wreath to her, and sed, This is thy due, for thee 'tis meet, Who with thy mouth hast made my kisses sweet. And she most courteously accepting it, For her fair hair made it a Coronet, And crown'd mine with another, which before Upon her own divine temples she wore: Which is the same I now do bear, and shall (Heav'n willing) to my Funerall, Wither'd as 'tis, to keep in memory That happy day; but most to signifie My wither'd hopes.

Erg.

Thy case doth pity, and not envie claim, Mirtillo: or hereafter let thy name " Be Tantalus, for he that jests with Love,

" Or playes with fire, shall pain in earnest prove. Poor youth! thou took'st up transitory treasure At too much use, and of thy theft the pleasure And punishment together didst receive. But did she never the deceit perceive?

Mirt.

I know not that, Ergasto; this I do, Whilst shee thought Elis worthy of her view, She was still bounteous to me of her eye, And gracious smiles. But my hard destinie Snatching her thence, unwares to me almost, I straight came flying hither, where thou knowst My Father, though he sojourn'd long abroad, Yet still retains his wonted poor aboad. I came and saw (O sight!) my day begun In such a fair and smiling morn, now run To its long West. When I appear'd in place The lightning of disdain flash'd in her face; Then did she bend her eyes, and turn'd away, These Meteors boad my death, then did I lay. Mean while, that I should so by stealth depart, My tender Father took deeply to heart; And with the grief on't an infirmity So terrible, that he was like to die. This forc'd me back, which prov'd (alas) in one Health to the Father, sicknesse to the Son. For half a yeer of a Love-caused feaver I languisht, and I think had languisht ever, If my indulgent Father had not sought

In time the Tripods Counsell; whence he brought This Answer, That th' Arcadian air alone Could make mee well again. I thereupon Return'd (Ergasto) to revisite her (O fallacy of that grand Sophister, The Oracle!) who made my body whole To cause eternall sicknesse in my soule.

Erg.

Thou hast related a strange tale in truth, Mirtillo, a case worthy of much ruth Without all doubt. " But oft a desperate state " Hath prov'd the cause that cures as desperate " Have sav'd the sick. And now 'tis time I goe To tell Corisca what from thee I know; Expect me at the Fountain, there will I Ere long be with thee.

Mirt.

Go on prosperously: And Heav'n at need that pity shew to thee (Courteous Ergasto) which thou shewst to me.

Scena secunda.

DORINDA, LUPINO, SILVIO. She bringing in Silvio's Dog.

Dor.

FAithfull and fortunate, delight and care Of my fair Silvio, and as proud as fair. Thrice fortunate Melampo, that I were Unto thy cruell Master half so deer!

With that white hand with which he gripes my heart, He stroaks and he feeds thee. He doth not part From thee by night, nor part from thee by day; Whilst I that so much love him, in vain pray, And sigh in vain. And that which worse I bear Then all the rest, he gives to thee such deer And lushious kisses, one of which would make Me rich, and I too kisse thee for his sake Happy Melamp'; O dog sent from above To steer the erring footsteps of blind Love! Lead on, sure guide, whither Affection mee, But Nature onely, and Instinct drawes thee. But list a little, doth not a horn blow In this neer thicket?

Sil.

Sogh Melampo, Sogh!

Dor.

That is (if Love delude me not) the sound Of Silvio's voice, who seems to call his hound About these woods.

Sil.

Melampo, Sogh, hogh, hogh.

Dor.

It is the very voice of Silvio. Happy Dorinda, to whom Heav'n hath sent The self same thing in search whereof I went! I'll hide the dog; with that he holds so deer I may chance buy his love. Lupino!

Lup.

Here.

Dor.

Go take this dog, and hide thee hereabout: Conceiv'st thou me?

Lup.

I do.

Dor.

But come not out Untill I call.

Lup.

I wo'n't.

Dor.

Nay, quickly man.

Lup.

And do thou quickly take some order than, That if the dog should have a hungry fit, He may not swallow me up at a bit.

Dor.

A Coward? Hence.

Sil.

O whither shall I steer My wretched steps to follow thee my deer Faithfull Melampo? over hill and plain Till I am tir'd and foundred I in vain Have hunted for thee. Cursed be the Doe Thou follow'dst. But behold, a Nymph may know Some news of him! O vile encounter! This Is she, who with her importunities Torments me still: but there's no remedy Save patience now. Fair Nymph, didst thou see my Faithfull Melampo, whom I slipt while-ere After a Doe?

Dor.

I (Silvio) fair? I fair? Why dost thou call me fair, if that I be Not fair in thy eyes?

Sil.

Fair or fowl, didst see My dog? Answer me that: if not, I go.

Dor.

So harsh to her adores thee, Silvio? Who would beleeve in that sweet shape could nest So sowr a soul? Thou follow'st a wild beast That flyes thee, over rocks; and for a curre Vexest thy body and thy minde: but her That follows thee, and thy content doth prize Above the world, thou fly'st and dost despise. Ah! do not follow a wild flying Doe, Let not a tame one (caught already) goe. Do not unbind her.

Sil.

Nymph, I came in search Of my Melampo, not to hear thee preach. Adieu.

Dor.

O fly not, cruell Silvio: I'll tell thee news of thy Melampo.

Sil.

Goe,

Thou mockst, Dorinda▪

Dor.

By that love I swear That makes me Silvio's servant, I know where He is. Thou sayst he did a Doe pursue?

Sil.

He did: and straight I lost them both from view.

Dor.

The Dog and Doe then at this present time Are in my pow'r.

Sil.

In thy pow'r?

Dor.

Yes, in mine. 'Twas that I said: Dost thou think much that shee Should love thy Dog (ungratefull) who loves thee?

Sil.

My deer Dorinda, give 'em to me straight,

Dor.

Out Shittle-cock, I'm come to a fine state When beasts endeer me to thee. But indeed (My heart) thou gettst them not without some meed.

Sil.

And reason good, I'll give thee; Let me see — (I'll cousen her).

Dor.

What wilt thou give to me?

Sil.

Two fair Queen-apples I will give to thee, Which my own fairer Mother gave to me The other day.

Dor.

For apples, I want none: I could give thee two fairer of my own, And sweeter too, but that thou carest not For what I give.

Sil.

Then wouldst thou have a goat? Or Lambkin? (but my Father will not let Me make so bold with what is his as yet.)

Dor.

Nor Goat, nor Lambkin do I care to have: Thee onely, Silvio, and thy love I crave.

Sil.

My love? No more?

Dor.

No more.

Sil.

I g'it thee: so, Give me my Dog (deer Nymph) now, and my Doe.

Dor.

Ah, that thou knewst the worth of what thou art So bounteous of, and spak'st now from thy heart!

Sil.

Nymph, mark my words: I finde thou talkst to me Still of a thing call'd Love; what this should be I know not: thou wouldst have me love thee; and I doe (as farre as I can understand) With all my heart: thou call'st me cruell; I Am ignorant of what is crueltie. How should I please thee?

Dor.

In whom hop'st thou, poor Dorinda? whence dost thou expect thy cure? From such a Beauty as hath felt as yet No spark of that which doth all Lovers set On fire? Art thou my flame, and art not hot? Dost thou breath Love, and what it is knowst not? That gentle Goddesse whom the Cyprians honour Took a most beauteous humane shape upon her To bring thee forth: Fire-brands thou hast and dart, Witnesse my flaming and my bleeding heart. Add wings, another Cupid thou wilt prove, At least want nothing to be Love, but love.

Sil.

What is this Love?

Dor.

When I behold thy eyes, It is the light of Paradise. But mine own heart consider'd well, It is the very fire of hell.

Sil.

Nymph, what a prating is here with thee? Give me my Dog and Doe, now prithee.

Dor.

Give me the love first that I bargain'd for.

Sil.

Have I not gi'n it thee? Fie, what a stir There is to please this woman! Take it: do What thou wilt with it. Who forbids thee? who

Withholds it? On what trifles dost thou stand?

Dor.

Wretched Dorinda, thou dost sow the sand, And fondly undertak'st labour in vain.

Sil.

What dream'st thou of? why holdst thou me in pain?

Dor.

When thy desire's once granted, thou wilt go And leave me straight, perfidious Silvio.

Sil.

No Indeed, fair Nymph.

Dor.

Give mee a pawne then.

Sil.

Name The pawn.

Dor.

Alas! I dare not.

Silv.

Why?

Dor.

For shame.

Sil.

But how then can I give it thee?

Dor.

I would Fain without naming it be understood.

Sil.

If th'art asham'd to name it, thou maist be Asham'd to take it.

Dor.

Promise it to me, And I will name it.

Sil.

I do promise it: But thou must name it first.

Dor.

Canst thou not hit My thoughts then? I should have conceiv'd thee If thou hadst said but half so much to me.

Sil.

Thou hast more wit then I, Dorinda.

Dor.

I Have more Love, Silvio, and lesse Cruelty.

Sil.

Truth is, I am no witch: if thou'dst have me To understand thee, speak.

Dor.

O misery! That which I beg of thee is one of those Things thy kind mother upon thee bestowes.

Sil.

A box o'th' ear?

Dor.

To ones that loves thee so?

Sil.

Those things my mother doth on me bestow.

Dor.

Nay, that's not so: But doth not she give thee A Kisse sometimes?

Sil.

She neither kisses me,

Nor would have others kisse me. Is 't a Kisse Thou dost desire of me? It is, it is: Thy blush betrayes thee. Come, I'le give it thee: But first my Dog and Doe.

Dor.

Dost promise me?

Sil.

I promise thee.

Dor.

And with me wilt thou stay?

Sil.

Why dost thou vex me thus? Did I not say I would?

Dor.

Come forth Lupino, dost not hear? Lupino.

Lup.

Ogh! ogh! what a brawling's there? Who calls me? O I am come. It was not I That slept, it was the Dog slept verily.

Dor.

Look Silvio, there's thy Dog, that might to thee Have read a lecture of Humanitie.

Sil.

How over-joy'd am I?

Dor.

Upon this brest Which thou despisest so he came to rest.

Sil.

(O my sweet true Melampo.)

Dor.

Setting by My sighs and kisses.

Sil.

(I will certainly Kisse thee a thousand times, poor Cur! But hast Thou got no harm at all, thou ran'st so fast?)

Dor.

Fortunate Dog, that I might change (alas!) Estates with thee; I'm come to a fine passe To envie a Dogs life. Bend thou thy gate Homewards Lupino, I will follow straight.

Lup.

Mistresse, I goe.

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.

Scena quarta.

CORISCA.

FOrtune beyond my wish hath favoured me: "And fit it is that they should favour'd be " Who not with wishings onely seek her favour. " Pow'rfull she is; and men with reason have her " In reputation of a Goddesse. But " We must go meet her then, wait a foot " To finde her humours; and must use our own " Judgement in playing of our game; a drone " Seldome or never doth prove fortunate. Had not my industry made me the Mate Of her by whom under the name of friend I have fit means and safe to work my end, Where had I been? Some fool would now be shie, And view her Rivall with a jealous eye, Bearing the open tokens of ill will Writ in her forehead; and she would do ill: " For open foes are easier to evade " Then ambushes that are in friendship laid. " Wise Mariners by rocks hid in the sea " Are oft deceiv'd: She knowes not how to be " An enemy, that knows not how to seem " A friend. Corisca's skill shall now be seen

In both: Nor am I yet so simply dull To think she doth not love. Well may she gull Others with this, not me; who am gone out A Mistresse in the Art. A tender sprout New peept out of the bark, within whose brest There's built for Love already a soft nest, Long woo'd, and woo'd by so compleat a Lover, And (which is worst) kist too over and over, And yet hold tyte? Believe't (for me) that list. But my good Genius doth me assist; For look if Amarillis come not here As sent? I'le walk as if I did not see her.

Scena quinta.

AMARILLIS, CORISCA.

Am.

DEar happy Groves, and you ye sollitary And silent horrors where true peace doth tarry, With how much joy do I review you? And Had my stars pleas'd to give me the command Over my self, that I might chuse my lot, And my own way of life, then would I not For the Elisians groves, about which range The happy shades, your happy shades exchange. " For what we foolish mortals Goods do call " If rightly understood, are Evils all.

" He that hath most of them, in truth hath least, " Nor is so much possessor, as possest; " Not riches, no, but of our freedome snares. " What boots it in the spring-time of one's yeers " To have the Attributes of Fair and Good, " In mortall veins to lock celestiall blood, " Graces of body and of mind, here fair " And laughing fields of corn, rich meadows there, " In fruitfull pasture-grounds more fruitfull flocks, " If with all these the heart contentment lacks? Happy that shepherdesse whom some course stuffe Obscurely cloaths, yet clean and just enough! Rich onely in her self, and bravely drest With Nature's ornaments which are the best; Who in sweet poverty no want doth know, Nor the distractions which from riches grow: Yet whatsoever may suffice the mind, In that estate abundantly doth finde: Poor, but content! with Nature's gifts retrives The gifts of Nature, Milk with milk revives, And with the sweet which from the Bee she gets, Seasons the honey of her native sweets: One fountain is her looking glasse, her drink Her bath; and if she's pleas'd, what others think It matters not; she heeds not blazing starres That threaten mighty ones: warres or no warres, It is all one to her; her battlement And shield is that she's poor: Poor, but content!

One onely care ('tis a sweet care) doth keep Her heart awake; she feeds her Masters sheep With pearled grasse, and with her lovely eyes Some honest swain, that for her beauty dies: Not such as men or Gods chuse to her hand, But such as Love did to her choice commend; And in some favour'd shady Mirtle grove Desires, and is desir'd: Nor feels of Love One spark which unto him she doth not show, Nor shows one spark with which he doth not glow. Poor, but content! True life! which till the breath Forsakes the body, knowst not what is death. Would Heaven had made me such a one! — But see, Corisca! Sweet Corisca.

Cor.

Who calls me? My Amarillis? dearer then mine owne Eyes, or life to me, whither so alone?

Am.

No farther then thou seest; nor anywhere Could I be better, since I weet thee here.

Cor.

Thou hast met her that never parts from thee, Sweet Amarillis; and now, credit me, Was thinking of thee, saying in my heart, If I'm her soul, how can she live apart From me? When straight I saw thee here:— but go, Thou car'st not for Corisca now.

Am.

Why so?

Cor.

Why? Dost thou ask the question? thou dost wed To day.

Am.

I wed?

Cor.

Yes: and thou keepst it hid From me.

Am.

How can I tell thee that which I Am ignorant my self of?

Cor.

Do, deny,

And wear a mask to me.

Am.

Still jest with me Corisca.

Cor.

I am jested with by thee.

Am.

But speakst thou this for truth?

Cor.

I'le swear 'tis so. And knowst thou nothing of't indeed?

Am.

I know I'm promis'd: but that I should be a wife So soon, is news to me upon my life. But from whom knowst it thou?

Cor.

From my own Brother Ormino: and he sayes, there is no other Discourse abroad.—Thou seem'st perplext: is this News to perplex one?

Am.

O Corisca! 'Tis A hideous gulfe: I've heard my mother say, W'are then new born.

Cor.

Most true: 'tis our birth day T' a better life, therefore rejoyce. Dost fetch A sigh? leave sighing to that wretch.

Am.

What wretch

Cor.

Mirtillo: who was present casually At what my brother told mee, and was nigh Strook dead with grief; and doubtlesse he had dy'd, If a good cordiall I had not apply'd, By promising to break this Match. Which though I said, onely to comfort him, I know (If need were) how to do't.

Am.

Canst thou tell How to break this Match?

Cor.

Yes very well.

Am.

I prethee how?

Cor.

With ease, if thou wert but Consenting likewise, and assisting to't.

Am.

Could I suppose this possible, and thou Wouldst not reveal it, I would tell thee now A secret that hath long burnt in my heart.

Cor.

Who, I reveal it? Let the earth first part

And swallow me alive miraculously.

Am.

Know then Corisca, when I think that I Must all my life be subject to a Boy That hates and flyes me, and doth take no joy But in the woods, preferring hunting farre Before the love of all the Nymphs that are, It makes me male content, and desperate Indeed almost, although I dare not say 't, Because my faith I have already given Unto my Father, and (what's worse) to Heav'n, And break with them I neither will nor may. But if thy industry can finde a way (Alwayes provided, that my Honestie, My Faith, my Life, and my Religion be Preserv'd) t'untie this knot that galls me so, To thee my life and safety I shall owe.

Cor.

If this were it that caus'd thy sighing, thou Hadst great cause for it Amarillis. How Oft have I said? What pity 'tis to throw So rich a thing to one that scorns it so! A pearl t' a swine! why speak'st not to thy Father?

Am.

Shame stops my mouth.

Cor.

There's a disease! I'd rather For my part have a Fistula, or Feaver. " But 'twill be cur'd; Orecome it once, 'twill never " Return again.

Am.

That cannot be orecome " That's naturall: For if I drive it from " My heart, it flies into my face.

Cor.

Alas, (My Amarillis) oft it comes to passe,

" She that through too much wisdom holds her tongue, " Roars out at last like mad, being throughly stung. Hadst thou before been willing to discover Thy mind to me, this trouble had been over: And now thou hast, Corisca's power this day In all its colours shall it self display. Into more skilfull hands, more faithfull then Mine are, thou never couldst have faln. But when From an ill Husband thou art freed by mee, Shall not an honest Suitor welcom be?

Am.

Wee'l think of that at leasure.

Cor.

That good youth Mirtillo must not be forgot in sooth: For parts, for spotlesse faith, for shape thou knowst Of all men living hee deserves thee most: And canst thou let him dye? O cruelty! Nor wilt so much as hear him say, I dye? Hear him but once.

Am.

'Twere better he would rest In peace, and root a love out of his brest That's vain.

Cor.

That comfort give him ere he dye.

Am.

'T would rather double his perplexity.

Cor.

If it do so, the seeking is his own.

Am.

And what must I expect, should it be known?

Cor.

How cowardly thou art?

Am.

And let me still Be cowardly in any thing that's ill.

Cor.

If thou mayst fail me in this small request, Then may I fail thee likewise in the rest Most justly, Amarillis. So God bu'y.

Am.

Nay, stay Corisca, hear.

Cor.

Not a word I,

Unlesse thou promise me.

Am.

I promise thee To hear him speak, provided this may be For all.

Cor.

It shall.

Am.

And that he may not know I was acquainted with 't.

Cor.

I'le make as though Ye met by accident.

Am.

And that I may At my own pleasure freely go away.

Cor.

Thou shalt, when thou hast heard him.

Am.

And that hee Shall briefly speak.

Cor.

That too is granted thee.

Am.

Nor come within my darts length of me.

Cor.

Fie, What a stir 's here with thy simplicitie! To make it sure, he shall not doe thee wrong, I'le tie up all his limbs except his tongue. Wouldst thou have more?

Am.

'Tis well.

Cor.

And when wilt thou Do this?

Am.

When ere thou wilt: Do but allow Me so much time, as to go home to hear More certain news about this Marriage there.

Cor.

Go; but with caution, and before thou'rt gone, Hear a contrivance I have thought upon As thou wert speaking: In the afternoon I would have thee without thy Nymphs to come Into this shady walk, where I will be Before for this occasion, and with me Nerina, Phillis, Celia, Aglaura, Eliza, Daphne, Silvia, and Laura; All my no lesse discreet and witty, then Faithfull and secret Mates. There thou with them

Shalt play (as thou art wont) at Blind-man-buffe, So that Mirtillo will with ease enough Be made believe, that for thy own passe-time Thou thither cam'st, and not to meet with him.

Am.

I like it wondrous well. But dost thou hear? I would not any of those Nymphs were there The while Mirtillo speaks.

Cor.

I doe conceive 'Twas thought upon with good discretion. Leave The getting them away to my endeavour. Go: and remember one thing, — to love ever Thy faithfullest Corisca.

Am.

In her hand Since I have put my heart, she may command As much love as she pleases.

Cor.

Is she not stiffe? We must assault this rock With greater force; though she resist my shock, Against Mirtillo's she will finde no fence I'm sure: I know by self-experience The power of Lovers prayers when they invade The tender heart of an inclining maid. If shee do yeeld, I'le make her smart so for't, That shee shall finde her sport was not in sport. Through her dark'st words her heart shall be to me As visible as in a 'natomie. I'le ransack all her veins: that done, and I Made Mistresse of her secret, easily I'le winde her so, and lead her by the nose To what I'de have, that she shall ne're suppose (Much lesse shall others) that it was my skill That drew her to't, but her unbridled will.

Scena sexta.

CORISCA, SATYR.

Cor.

O I'm dead.

Sat.

But I was quick. There's a trick now for your trick.

Cor.

My Amaerillis, I am caught. O come back.

Sat.

She hears thee not. 'Twill now behove thee to be strong.

Cor.

O me, my hair!

Sat.

I have so long Stood angling for thee in my boat, At last th' art strook. 'Tis not thy coat, 'Tis thy hair (Sister) this.

Cor.

To mee This usage (Satyr?)

Sat.

Yes, to thee Corisca, or I am mistaken: That Mistresse in the art of making The fine-spun lyes, that sels so deer False words, false hopes, and a false leer? Shee that so often hath betraid me; Shee that so many fools hath made me At every turn: the sorceresse, The cheat Corisca?

Cor.

I confesse, I am Corisca; but not shee Now, that was once so lov'd by thee, My gentile Satyr.

Sat.

Pray since when Am I gentile? I was not then

When me for Coridon thou didst change.

Cor.

Thee for another?

Sat.

See how strange She makes it now! I warrant then This is great news to thee; and when Thou mad'st me Silvia's Buskins steal, The Bow of Lilla, Cloris Veile, And Daphne's Gown, that were to be The price of love, which promis'd me, Thou gav'st another: and when that Fair wreathe I on thy head did plat, Thou upon Niso didst bestow; And when thou mad'st me (cold as snow) Watch many a night out at the Fountain, The Cave, Wood-side, and foot o'th' Mountain, And for my pains didst laugh at me, Did I then seem gentile to thee? Ah thief! But now as I am here, I'le make thee pay thy whole arrear.

Cor.

O me! Thou dragg'st me like a beast.

Sat.

I drag thee like thy self then. Wrest Thy neck out of the collar now; Give me the slip if thou knowst how. Fox, though thy craft the time before Did save thee, it shall do't no more. For this I'm sure thou canst not scape, Unlesse thou leave thy head i'th trap.

Cor.

Yet give me so much time I pray, As for my self to answer.

Sat.

Say.

Cor.

How can I if thou hold me so?

Sat.

'Tis likely I should let thee go.

Cor.

I'le gage my faith not to go hence.

Sat.

What faith? Hast thou the impudence (Perfidious woman) to name faith To me? I'le bear thee where there hath No Sun, much lesse the feet of men Approacht, unto the horrid'st den Of all this Mountain: there— (but I Will act the rest) to mine own joy And thy dishonour, I will kerve Such vengeance as thy faults deserve.

Cor.

Canst thou then (cruell) to this hair (which has Ty'd fast thy heart), unto this face (which was Once thy delight), to this Corisca (then More dear to thee then thine own life was when Thou swar'st by that, that thou couldst finde it sweet On her behalf, ev'n death it self to meet), Canst thou once think to offer injury, I say, to her? O Heav'ns! O Destinie! Whom have I hop't in? whom can I believe Again?

Sat.

Ah Syren! thinkst thou to deceive Me still? still rock me with thy flatt'ring charms?

Cor.

My sweet deer Satyr, do no harm To her that loves thee. Thou art not a beast, Nor hast a marble or a flinty brest: Behold me at thy feet! O pardon me If ever I (by chance) offended thee,

My Idol. By those sinewy and more Then humane knees, which clasping I adore; By that rough manly visage; by that dear Affection which thou once to me didst bear; By the sweet influence of those eyes which thou Wert wont to call two stars (two fountains now;) By these salt tears which trickle down so fast, Pitie me now, and let me go.

Sat.

Thou hast Mov'd me (I must confesse) and I were gone, If I should hearken to affection. But to be short, I doe not credit thee; Thou art too full of wiles and tricks for me, And he that takes thy word, believes his snares: Beneath this humble shew, beneath these prayr's There's hid Corisca: Thou canst never be Another. Sruggling still?

Cor.

My head, O me! Ah cruell! stay a little longer yet, And grant me but one favour.

Sat.

What is it?

Cor.

Hear me a little more.

Sat.

Thou hopest now With flatt'ries and squeez'd tears to make me bow.

Cor.

Ah courteous Satyr! wilt thou kerve in me Such cruell vengeance?

Sat.

Come, and thou shalt see.

Cor.

And take no Pity of me?

Sat.

None at all.

Cor.

But art thou firm in this?

Sat.

As a brasse-wall. Is this charm ended?

Cor.

O thou base, and not To be exampled Rogue; half man, half goat, And all a beast; thou carrion that doth stink, By-blow and blush of nature; If thou think

Corisca loves thee not, thou thinkst the truth. What should she love in such a comely youth? That fair Stags head? that chimney-sweepers broom? Goats ears? that grave of rottennesse and rheume Which once had bones in't?

Sat.

This to me, Thou wicked varlet?

Cor.

Ev'n to thee.

Sat.

To me, thou scold?

Cor.

To thee, thou Goat.

Sat.

And with these pincers pull I not Thy barking tongue out?

Cor.

Would thou durst Come neer't, there's that will scour their rust.

Sat.

A paltry woman, and in such Condition (being in my clutch) To injure me! and dare mee too! I will —

Cor.

Base slave, what wilt thou do?

Sat.

Eat thee alive I will.

Cor.

Where be The teeth to do't?

Sat.

Heav'n, dost thou see And suffer this! But if I doe not Chastise thee — Come along.

Cor.

I wo' not.

Sat.

Wo' not, my Mistresse Malapert?

Cor.

Wo' not in spight of thy foul heart.

Sat.

That shall be seen; Come, or I swear, This arm I'le from thy shoulder tear.

Cor.

Tear my head off, I wo' not go One foot.

Sat.

Art thou resolved so? Let's ne're dispute then any longer, But put to tryall whether's stronger And faster on, thy neck-piece, or My arm. — Thy hands to help too? Nor

Are these (perverse one) enough guard.

Cor.

That shall be try'd.

Sat.

It shall.

Cor.

Pull hard. Satyr adieu, Get thy neck set.

Sat.

O me! How I am shatter'd! O my head! my knee! O my back-bone! my thigh! what a vile fall Was here! to get upon my legs is all I have the pow'r to do. But can it be That she should fly, and leave her head with me? O marvellous! ye Nymphs and Shepherds run, Flock hither to behold a wonder; one That runs away without her head, by skill In Magick. Hah! how light it is! how ill Peopled with brains! How comes it that I see None of the blood spirt forth? But stay; let me Peruse it better. O thou stock! thou stone! Thou hast no head, if thou think she hath none. Was ever any man so fool'd? See now If she had not a trick to scape, when thou Thoughtst her most sure! Thou all made up of wiles, Was't not enough thy heart, thy face, thy smiles, Thy looks and speeches falsified were, But thou must likewise falsifie thy hair? The glowing Amber, and the flowing Gold, Which you (mad Poets) so extoll, behold! Blush, blush now at your errour, and recant Your thred-bare theam; in stead whereof, go paint The arts of a deform'd and impious Witch Breaking up Sepulchres by night, from which

She steals the hair that upon Death's head growes, To imp her own, which she so neatly does, That she hath made you praise what ye should more Then dire Megara's snakie locks abhor. These (Lovers) are your gyves (I take it) too! Look on 'em Idiots: and if (as you Protest) your hearts are fastned to these hairs, Now every one may without sighs or tears Come by his owne. But why do I forbear To publish her disgrace? Surely that hair, Which stuck with starres adorns the azure skye,— Never so famous was as this; and shee Much more that wore it by my tongue shall be Made infamous to all posterity. —

CHORUS.

AH! 'Twas a grievous fault in her (the Cause Of all our sorrows) who, the sacred Lawes Of Love offending, by her breach of troth, Kindled against this Land the mortall wrath Of the immortall Gods, which not a Flood Of generall tears, nor so much guiltlesse blood " Can quench yet or abate; so high a price " Vnspotted Faith (Expeller of all vice, " And most undoubted Argument to prove " A mind descended nobly) bears above.

" And such a care to plant love in his creature " (By which we deifie our humane Nature) " Hath the eternall Lover. O those blind Mistaken mortals, who addict their mind To wealth, (for which affection's basely sold) Watching the carcasse of their coffin'd gold, Like a pale ghost that walks about his grave! Or why should beauty our free hearts enslave? " These are dead loves; the living and divine " Is where two souls by vertue do combine. " No outward object can with reason move " The heart to love it, 'cause it cannot love: " Onely the soul, 'cause that can love again, " Deserves a Love, deserves a Lovers pain. Well may that kisse be sweet that's giv'n t'a sleek And fragrant rose of a vermilion cheek; And understanding tasters (as are true And happy Lovers) will commend that too. 'Tis a dead kisse, say I, and must be poor, Which the place kist hath no means to restore. But the sweet ecchoing, and the Dove-like billing Of two encountring Mouthes, when both are willing; And when at once both Loves advance their bows, Their shafts drawn home, at once sound at the loose, (How sweet is such Revenge!) This is true kissing, Where there is one for t'other without missing A minute of the time, or taking more Then that which in the taking they restore.

Where by an interchange of amorous blisses At the same time they sow and gather kisses. Kisse a red swelling lip, then kisse a wrist, A brest, a forehead, or what else thou list, No part of a fair Nymph so just will be, Except the lip, to pay this kisse to thee. Thither your souls come sallying forth, and they Kisse too, and by the wandring pow'rs convey Life into smacking Rubies, and transfuse Into the live and sprightly kisse their use Of reason; so that yee discourse together In kisses, which with little noyse deliver Much matter; and sweet secrets, which hee spels, Who is a Lover; Gibbrish to all else. Like life, like mutuall joy they feel, where Love With equall flames as with two wings doth move. " And as where lips kisse lips is the best Kisse: " So where one's lov'd, to love, best loving is.