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 secunda.

AMARILLIS, MIRTILLO, Chorus of Nymphs, CORISCA.

Am.

BEhold the Buff!

Mirt.

O sight!

Am.

Come on▪

Mirt.

O voice! That makes my heart both tremble and rejoyce.

Am.

What do you do? Lisetta, where art thou That wert so eager of this sport but now? And thou Corisca, whither gone?

Mir.

I finde Now it is true indeed, that Love is blinde.

Am.

You there that are appointed for my guides To hand and to support mee on both sides, Before the rest of our Companions come, Out of these trees conduct me to field-room: Then leaving me alone amidst the plain, Amongst our other fellows herd again: So joyning all together, make a ring About me round, and let the sport begin.

Mir.

But what shall I do? Yet I cannot see Of what advantage this should be to me In my desires; nor see I my north-starre Corisca: Succour me blest Heav'n!

Am.

O are

Yee come at last? yee wantons, did you mean Only to bind my eyes? Begin now then.

Chor.

Love, thou art not blind, I know, " But dost onely appear so " To blinde us: if thy sight's small, " Thou hast, I'm sure no faith at all. Blinde or not, thou try'st in vain Mee into thy net to train. And to keep out of thy pound, Off I get, and traverse ground. Blind as thou art, thou couldst see more Then Argus hundred eyes of yore. Thou couldst see (blind as thou art) Well enough to hit my heart. But I were a fool indeed, Should I trust thee now I'm freed. Sport with thee henceforth that will; 'Tis a sport with thee to kill.

Am.

I, but with too much warinesse you play: Yee should strike first, and after get away. Approach me, touch me, and ye shall not fly Me then.

Mir.

O ye high Gods! In heav'n am I? Or earth? O heav'ns! do your eternall rounds Move in such order, warble such sweet sounds?

Cho.

Well, blind Archer, since thou still Vrgest me to play, I will.

Now I clap thy shoulder hard: Now I fly unto my guard: Strike, and run, and strike again, And thou wheel'st about in vain. Now I pinch thee, now remove: And have at thee now blind Love. Yet thou canst not light on me; Why? because my heart is free.

Am.

In faith Licoris, I had surely thought T'ave caught thee there, and 'twas a tree I caught. I, dost thou laugh?

Mir.

Would I had been that tree. But do I not Corisca hidden see Amongst those brakes? and she makes signes as who Should say, that something she would have me do.

Cho.

"A free heart makes a nimble heel. Ah traitour! dost thou tempt me still With thy flattering false delight? Thus then I renew the fight. Slash, and fly, and turn, and shove; And about again blind Love: Yet thou canst not light on me; Why? because my heart is free.

Am.

Would thou wert puld up by the root, base tree: That I should ever thus be catching thee! Deceived by the dancing of a bough, I did suppose I'd had Eliza now.

Mir.

Corisca still is making signes to me, And looks as shee were angry: perhaps she Would have me mix with those Nymphs.

Am.

Must I play With nothing but with trees then all this day?

Cor.

I must come forth and speak, or hee'l not stir —. To her (white liver) and lay hold on her. Why dost thou gape? to have her run into Thy mouth? At least, if that thou dar'st not do, Let her lay hold of thee. Come, give me here This dart, and go to meet her fool.

Mir.

How neer To impotence is strong desire! O Love! That thou shouldst make a man a coward prove!

Am.

Play but once more, for now I weary grow. Troth, y'are too blame for making me run so.

Chor.

That triumphant God survey, To whom amorous mortals pay Impious tribute! See him snaffeld! See him laught at! See him baffeld! As a hooded Hawke or Owle With light blinded, when the fowle With their Armies flock about her, Some to beat, and some to stout her; She in vain doth rowze and peck This and that way with her beak: So we baffle and deride Thee (blind Love) on ev'ry side. One doth pinch thy elbow black;

T'other has thee by the back; And thy baiting does no good, Nor thy pecking through thy hood, Nor thy stretching out thy clawes. " But sweet meats have sowr sawce. " Birds are caught by playing thus: " So do Nymphs grow amorous.