Torquato Tassos Aminta Englisht To this is added Ariadne's complaint in imitation of Anguillara; written by the translater of Tasso's Aminta.
About this Item
Title
Torquato Tassos Aminta Englisht To this is added Ariadne's complaint in imitation of Anguillara; written by the translater of Tasso's Aminta.
Author
Tasso, Torquato, 1544-1595.
Publication
London :: Printed by Aug: Mathewes for William Lee, and are to bee sold at the signe of the Turkes Head in Fleetstreet,
1628.
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http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A13384.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Torquato Tassos Aminta Englisht To this is added Ariadne's complaint in imitation of Anguillara; written by the translater of Tasso's Aminta." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A13384.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2024.
Pages
Scena Prima.
Daphne. Siluia. Chorus.
NOw may the winde vpon his wings beare henceAll ill may happen thee; together withTh'accursed newes so lately spread of thee.Thou art aliue (the gods be thanked fort't)And eu'n but now I did beleeue thee dead;So had Nerina painted to the lifeThy late hap; but I would shee had bin dumbe,Or some that heard her deafe.
Sil:
Indeede I scap'dSo narrowly, as I beleeue shee mightFull well suppose me dead.
Da:
Suppose she might
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Yet not haue tolde it with such certainty.But tell me pre'thee how thou didst escapeThe danger so.
Sil:
Why I in followingA Wolfe into the wood, had thickt with himSo farr, till I at length had lost his track;And as I stood thinking to turne againeBack as I went, I spide him, and I knew himBy' a shaft that stuck in's head neere to his eare,Which I not long before had shot at him:He was accompany'd with many more,About the body of some beast new slaine;But what beast 'twas I knew not; the same WolfeI thinke knew me so well, that on he madeTowards me with his head besmear'd with bloud.I bouldly stood, and bent a Dart at him,And when I thought his distance fit for me,I threw, but (whether it was fortunes faultOr mine) I mist him, as thou know'st I vseNot oft to do; he fiercer then beforeRusheth vpon me; and was come so neere,That I, (my shafts now spent) found it too lateTo trust my bowe, and tooke me to my heeles:Away Tranne; he follow'd me as fast.See now my hap; a vaile that I had ty'deMy haire withall, was halfe vndone, and flewAt the windes pleasure loosely, that at length'Thad wound it selfe about a bough; I feltThat somewhat stay'd me; but the feare I had,
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Redoubled so my strength, that though the boughDid all it could to hold me, I broke loose;And as I left my vaile behinde, I leftPart of my haire withall; and so had feareLent my feete wings, that I out-went the Wolfe,And came safe from the wood; when turning homeI met thee thus amaz'd, and am no lesseAmaz'd my selfe to see thee so.
Da:
Ay meeThou liu'st, 'tis well, would all were well besides.
Sil:
What ayl'st thou? pre'thee art thou sory thenThat I'm aliue?
Da:
No; that thou liu'st I'm glad;But for an others death I must be sad.
Sil:
How's this? for whose death?
Da:
Why Aminta's death.
Sil:
Aminta dead? alas how may that be?
Da:
Nay how I cannot tell; nor yet am sureOf the deede done; but I beleeue it firmly.
Sil:
What's this thou tell'st me? alas what might beTh'occasion of Aminta's death?
Da:
Thy death.
Sil:
Make mee conceiue thee.
Da:
Eu'n the heauy newesOf thy death, which he heard, and credited,Hath brought him to his end, some-way or other.
Sil:
Fye, th'art deceiu'd; and this thy thought will beAs vaine as was the newes thou heardst of me;For surely no man will dye willingly.
Da:
O Silu'ia Siluia, thou dost not feeleNor know what 'loues flame can do, in a brestThat is a brest of flesh, and not of flintAs thine is; for didst thou but know't, I know
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Thou wouldst haue loued him that lou'd thee moreThen both his eyes; more then his breath and life;I do beleeue it, nay I'ue seene, and know it.I saw, I saw him when thou fledst from him(Vnkinde and cruell as thou wert) when he,Eu'n then when thou shouldst rather haue imbrac'dThen scorn'd him so, against his brest had bentHis Dart, with full intent to kill himselfe:Nor any whit repented of the deede,When (stay'd by me from farther wounding him)The sharpe steele had his garment and his skinneDyed in his bloud, and had pierc'd through that heartThat loyall heart of his, that thou beforeHadst wounded worse, had not I held his hand,And sau'd him all I could: but O alasThat slight wound seru'd but as a triall onlyAnd small proofe of his desp'rate constancie;And but to teach the fatall steele, to doThe black deede it was preappointed to.
Sil:
Ay mee what's this thou tell'st me?
Da:
But at lastWhen the newes came that thou wert dead, I saw himSound at the hearing on't, and dye away;And came no sooner to himselfe againe,But furiously he flings away amayne;And sure I feare, alas, too sure 'twill prooueHas kill'd himselfe;Such was his too much griefe, and too much loue.
Sil:
But hold'st thou this for certaine?
Da:
Tis too true.
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Sil:
Ay me why didst thou not straite follow him?And stay him? ah let's seeke, let's finde him out;Since from my death, his deaths desire is bredd,He must liue still because I am not dead.
Da:
Alas I follow'd him, but he had sooneSo farre outrunne me, as I now despaireThat we shall finde him hauing lost his footing.
Sil:
We must alas we must inquire him outSome way or other speedily, least heThorough our slownesse his owne murdrer be.
Da:
Belike then (Cruell) th'art but grieu'd he shouldTake from thee th'honour of this goodly deede?And would'st thy selfe be the braue murdresse?Must no hand else but thine, an Actor beIn th' execution of this Tragedy?Well, set thy heart at rest; for howso'reHe dyes, thou art his onely murderer.
Sil:
Ah thou dost wound me; and thy eu'ry wordAddes to the agony'e of my bleeding brest,Strooke through with feare of him; and with the bitterRemembrance of the sauadge crueltyIn me, which I call'd honesty', and so 'twas,But too seuereit was, and rigorous;I finde it now, alas I now repent it.
Da:
VVhat's this? what do I heare?Why thou art pittifull then, and thy heartSeemes to haue feeling of anothers harmes;VVhat doe I see?
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Why thou do'st weepe too; I'm amaz'd at this?Whence ar these teares? Is't loue that causes them?
Sil:
'Tis pitty, 'tis compassion causes them.
Da:
Compassion is the messenger of loue,As is the lightning of the thunder clap.
Cho:
'Tis often times the property of loueWhen he would creepe vnseene into young heartsWhich austere Chastity hath long time shutAnd barr'd against him, to assume the habitAnd semblance of his handmayd Pitty', and soDeceiues them ere they be aware, and getsInto their brests vnknowne and vndiscry'de.
Da:
These ar loue-teares (Siluia) they flow so fast;Do'st thou not loue indeede? ha? not a word?Yes, 'tis too true, but alas 'tis too late.Behold the strange wayes of Loues chastisement;Wretched Aminta, thou that (like the Bee,Which hurting dyes, and in an others woundLeaues his owne life,) hast with thy death, at lastPierc'd that hard heart, which liuing felt thee not.But if, O erring Spirit, (as I feareThou art, and seuer'd from thy empty corse)Thou wandrest here abouts; behold her playnts;Liuing thou lou'dst her, see shee loues thee dead.And if thy cruell fate would haue it so,That thy loue could not be repay'd till now,And that her loue was onely to be purchas'dBy thee at this deare price; let it suffice thee
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(Where more thou canst not haue) that thou hast bought itAs dearely now, as shee could rate it thee;Euen with thy death.
Cho:
Deare bargaine for the buyer;And all vnprofitable, and infamousVnto the cruell seller.
Sil:
O that ICould with my loue redeeme his life againe,Or with my life his life, if he liue not.
Da:
O pitty, O discretion, too late bredd;Little auaile they to reuiue the dead.
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