Amintas a pastoral acted at the Theatre Royal / made English out of Italian from the Aminta of Tasso by Mr. Oldmixon.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Daphne, Sylvia.

Daphne.

SYlvia, will you still persist In this strange disgust of Love? Will you still refuse to hear Our Shepherds sighs, and scorn their tears? But if sighs end tears in vain Attempt to move your cruel heart, Methinks the hopes that you might have To see a lovely Infant smile, And call you Mother, should succeed: Change, foolish Creature, change your thoughts, And be not constant to a Crime.

Sylvia.

Let others, if they please, be mov'd With sighs and tears, and take delight To play with Love: I'll never quit The Forests, never leave the Chace, Whilst Beasts of prey are to be found. I'll range the Woods, I'll scour the Plains, And with my Bow and Quiver find A better way to nobler sport.

Daphne.

Dull sport, and an insipid life You Sylvia, stubborn as thou art, Will think so too, when you begin To taste the sweets of Love. 'So the first people, who possest 'In Innocence the Infant World, 'Fed on Acorns, and when dry 'Drank the Waters of the Brook: 'Beasts only now on Acorns seed, 'And drink the Waters of the Brook:

'And thus when you at last shall feel 'How pleasant 'tis beneath a shade, 'To sit and talk with one you love: Then, Sylvia, you'll repent and cry, Ah, fool! I never lov'd till now. You'll throw away your Arrows, break your Bow, And curse the minutes you have lost. Change, foolish Creature, change your thought, And be not constant to a Crime.

Sylvia.

When I sit and task of Love, Dogs shall be afraid of Hares, Wolves of Lambs, and Streams return To the Fountains whence they rose; Bears shall then the Forests leave, And Dolphins dance about the Plains.

Daphne.

I know your pride, for I was once Wild and obstinate, like you. 'I was then as fair, my Locks 'As white as yours, my Lips as red: 'Such Roses and such Lillies grac'd 'My Cheeks, as flourish now on yours. 'Twas then (so stupid was my taste 'The darling pleasure of my life, 'To set my Lime-twigs, lay my Nets, 'And laugh as often as I saw 'The Birds entangled in my Snares. I then delighted in the Chace, And scorn'd, with savage modesty; The Shepherds whom my Charms had conquer'd: I was then so far unjust, As once to think it cause enough To hate 'em for their loving me; And pleasing them displeas'd my self: But oh! what will not time effect; What will not services and sighs, Desert, entreaties, truth and tears? What, Sylvia, will not all these do?

Sylvia.

Nothing with a mind resolv'd

Against their flatteries, like mine.

Daphne.

Mistaken Main! They'll master every stubborn thought, And force our hearts to think of Love. I know it by my self, for I have felt, And must confess their power. They tempted me to tear my Nets, Neglect my Lime-twigs, break my Bow, And fling my Arrows in the Air. I cry'd there, there, Diana, take These useless Weapons, I renounce The Woods and all thy sports for Love.

Sylvia.

Renounce 'em by your self and as for me—

Daphne.

Who knows, Amintas may in time Convert even thee to do as much: Is he not handsom? Can you see A comelier youth in all the plain? If you're related to the Gods. Amintas is deriv'd from Pan: You oft have Amarillis seen, And in some Fountain may compare Her beauties with your own. The difference, Sylvia, is not great, Yet poor Amintas shuns her smiles, To follow your contempt and you; And for your hate despises Love. But think it may not still be thus, Think when her Beauties or her smiles Have toucht his heart, they'll laugh at yours, And make a jest of thy disdain.

Sylv.

Where e're he pleases let him love, And Court what Maid he will but me: I'll ne're be trouble with his heart, Nor give him any hopes of mine.

Daphne.

What makes you hate him thus?

Sylv

His love.

Daphne.

'Ah cruelty! we might expect 'That Ravens would be born of Swans,

'Of Tygers Lambs, as well as thou 'From tender Parents be deriv'd.

Sylv.

I hate his Love because he hates. What I love most, a Maiden life. While friendship only warm'd his Soul, None could esteem him more than I.

Dap.

You'd have him then confine his wishes, To as narrow bounds as yours. He less deserves to be condemn'd For wishing much, Than you do for not wishing more.

Syl.

Daphue, Peace, or if you'll talk, Prithee talk of some thing else.

Dap.

Suppose another Swain should court ye, Would you, Sylvia use him thus.

Syl.

Thus every one that dares attempt To interrupt me in my sports; And he that talks of Love to me, I'll use him as he is, my Foe.

Dap.

You may, Sylvia, then suppose Turtles to their Mates are foes. When the Birds begin to sing, You may think they hate the Spring: You may, if you please, suppose, Nature and the Spring are foes, That its pregnant heats create Flowers, Plants, and Fruit in hate. But if you observe, you find Every thing to Love inclin'd. Doves in gentle whispers woe Their tender Mates, and bill and coe. The Nightingale flies round the Grove, And sings on every Bough I love. Beasts by nature fierce and wild, Become, when Love commands 'em, mild. The Lyon, Wolf, the Tyger, Bear, Less cruel, Sylvia, than you are, In Savage murmurs Love declare.

E'en Trees their amorous branches join, The Ivy fondly clasps the Vine, And her kind embraces shew, What you to Love and Nature owe. Change, foolish Creature, change your thoughts, And be not constant to a Crime.

Syl.

If Beasts, if Trees, or Ivy shew, What Love and Nature bid me do, I'll tarry till they tell me so

Dap.

You mock me, Sylvia, have a care How you make a jest of Love. The time will come when you'll repent, For laughing at my Counsel now. When wrinkles shrivel up your brow: When the clear Fountains you will shun, Where now you take too much delight, To view your Beauties; where you gaze Whole hours with pleasure on that face, Which then you'll be afraid to see. Then, Sylvia, you'll repent in vain You did not follow my advice. Have you forgot, or never heard What wise Elpinus told the fair, The cruel Lycoris, whose eyes Are not more charming than his voice? Have you forgot it, Sylvia?

Sylvia.

I know not what you mean.

Daph.

'Tis strange: 'Twas in Aurora's awful Cave, 'O're whose mouth are writ these words, 'Hence, hence O ye Profane! Battus and Thyrsis being by, He told her what he learnt from him, Who sung so well of War and Love, And left him when he dy'd, his Pipe; That there's a place among the darm'd, Where all ungrateful Beauties live, Tormented with eternal fires:

The Gods being careful to revenge Their Lovers wrongs; and 'tis but just That pain should melt 'em into tears, Since pity could not touch their hearts. 'Think, think on this, and if you dare, 'Persist, O Fool, in thy disdain.

'Sylvia.

And what said Lycoris to this?

'Daph.

You're fond to know anothers thoughts, 'But will not change your own. She seem'd 'Convinc'd, and answer'd with her eyes.

'Syl.

What? answer with her Eyes! Pray tell me how.

'Daph.

She smil'd, and turning to the Swain, 'In her kind looks she seem'd to say, 'I'm conquer'd; take the heart you begg'd, 'You cannot wish for more. 'She seem'd to say it, and 't had been enough, 'If men might venture to believe, 'Or trust the Language of the eyes.

'Syl.

Why did he not believe it?

'Daph.

Have you not read what Thyrsis wrote? 'In yonder Wood, where sorrow led 'His wandering steps? The Nymphs and Swains 'Laught at, and pity'd him, to see 'The foolish things he often did, 'In many of his amorous fits: 'Yet foolish as his actions seem'd, 'His words were sensible; and none 'Have cause to laugh at what he wrote. 'Deceitful Glass, where oft I see 'False glances to deceive me, 'The Heart must with the Eyes agree, 'Or they will ne're relieve me. 'When dying Looks and smiles I meet, 'I'm still afraid of Treason, 'But Love, to help 'em in the Cheat, 'Deprives me of my Reason. 'He Grav'd 'em on a thousand Trees; 'And Nature, careful of his sense,

'Preserves his Verses free from storms, 'And makes 'em floorish in the Bark.

Syl.

Daphne, we fool away the day In idle talk; 'tis time for me To be provided for my Sport. First then I'll to the lonely Brook, Which glides thro you delicious Wood, And bath me in the Crystal stream; There playing with the waves a while, I grow refresh'd, and with new life, Rise from the Waters to the Chace.

Daph.

'Tis early, I must first go home, I'll meet you after at the Brook, And bath me with you, if you please. But, Sylvia, think on what I've said, Tis of more consequence than Brooks, Or Dogs, or Forests, or your Game; And if you know not yet what 'tis To love, ah! learn of those that do: Love of all pleasures is the best, And none can be without it blest.

Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Amintas, Thyrsis.

Amin.

I'Ve often found that Rocks and Waves Have answer'd my complaint: But oh! I never found, nor hope to find The Nymph, whom I've so long ador'd, As gentle ev'n as Rocks and Waves. Is she a Woman? One may well suspect If she's of humane race, and yet I see Her beautiful and young, her form Of such a mould, so soft, so sweet, That 'twere impossible to think It lodg'd a Soul averse to Love. If to my cost I had not found

That things inanimate are less Insensible of pity than her heart.

Thyrsis.

Lambs feed on Grass, and Wolves on Lambs, They're fatisfy'd in time; but Love, Who feeds on Tears, is never satisfy'd.

Amin.

If Tears cou'd glut his appetite, He had been surfeited e're this: Or if the Virgin cou'd be mov'd With Seas of Tears I had been blest: No, they both hunger after Blood, And I resolve to give 'em mine.

'Thyr.

'Ah! why, Amintas, will you talk 'Of Blood? If she is so severe, 'Are there not other Maids as young, 'As fair as she? Look out and try, 'Another Beauty may be kind.

'Amint.

Where shall I look, or how expect to find? 'A Maid to please me, when I've lost my self.

Thyr.

Don't flatter your despair, but hope This cruel fair may yield at last: Lyons and Tygers may be tam'd, And she you Love with Love be overcome.

Amin.

But who so wretched, who so near To death as I am, can be pleas'd With Life, or bear the torment long?

Thyr.

The torment will not be so long As you suspect, for Womens minds Are movable, like Aspin leaves; And what they may this minute hate, They'll love the next. But say, my friend, Where lives? and who's this haughty Maid, That treats Amintas with such scorn? You've told me often that you love, But never told me whom: be free, And open all your heart, without reserve.

Amin.

Well, you shall hear what every Wood, What all our Hills and Streams have heard, But no Man ever knew before;

'Tis fit now I'm so near the Grave, Some friend should know the fatal cause, And write my sorrows on the Tomb, Where my pale body shall be laid, That every passenger may read My fate, and she for whom I dye Be pleas'd to triumph o're my dust: It may be when she sees how far Despair has carry'd me, the thought (And yet I fear I hope too much) Will fetch a sigh, or force a tear; And make her pity me, and wish That poor Amintas were alive. Hear then —

Thyr.

I hearken: and perhaps For better ends than you suppose.

Amin.

While I was yet a little Boy, Scarce tall enough to reach a Bough, Or pluck an Apple from a Tree, I felt my heart engag'd to love The fairest Creature ever liv'd; Sylvia, the glory of the Woods, Montano's and Cydippe's Daughter: Sylvia, whose beauty, mien and youth, Charm every heart as well as mine; Our Houses joyn'd, but were not half So close united as our Hearts: Two Friends ne're lov'd as we did then; Two Turtles ne're so fondly sought Each others company, as we did; Our pleasures with our years agreed, The same diversions suited both; We sometimes Hunted, sometimes Fish'd, Sometimes we laid our Nets for Birds, And always shar'd the Game we caught. But while we pleasantly pursu'd Our mutual sports, alas! I felt

Strange wishes growing in my heart: Like Flow'rs that on a sudden spring From beds where they were never set: Whene're we parted now I wept For grief, and when we met, for joy. I suckt in poison from her eyes, Which seem'd delicious to the taste, But left a bitter smart behind. I saw her now with new delight; I found new Graces in her face; I often sigh'd, but knew not why; I lov'd, but did not know 'twas love, Till chance discover'd it.

Thyr.

Pray how?

Amin.

Sylvia, Phillis, and my self, Sitting underneath a Shade, Saw a Bee fly round the bank, Gathering Honey from the Flow'rs Which adorn'd our happy seat: Weary'd there, he fled to us, Pitcht on Phillis, who has Cheeks Fairer, sweeter than the Rose, Fancying every Grace a Flow'r, There he hung a while, and suckt Sweets much richer than his own! Phillis wept to feel the smart; Sylvia bid her weep no more, I, she crys, can say a Charm, That will quickly give you ease: 'Tis a Secret which I learnt Of wise Aricia, to whom For her Art I gave my Horn, Tipt with Ivory and Gold. Then she put her fragrant Lips To the Cheek the Bee had stung, Said some Verses o're the Wound, And as soon as Sylvia spoke, Phillis felt the pain no more.

See the wonderful effects, See the force of Magic words, Or, what I would rather think, See what Sylvia's Lips can do, Every thing they touch they heal.

Thyr.

How, Amintas, could you find Love had wounded you by this?

Amin.

I till this desir'd no more Than to see her radiant Eyes, Or to listen to her Voice, Soft as Rivulets that glide Murmuring thro our smiling Vales; Soft as Zephr's evening breath, Playing with the Leaves of Trees: But as soon as I observ'd What her Lips had lately done, Then I wish'd 'em close to mine, And, I know not how, contriv'd Ways to taste of what I wish'd.

Thyr.

None want artifice to gain What they covet to possess; All are cunning when in love.

Amin.

I, to touch her rosy mouth, Feign'd a Bee had stung me too; And complain'd with such an air, That it seem'd to beg the Cure, Which my tongue cou'd ne'r have askt. Sylvia kindly did to me What she had to Phillis done, And her Lips thus fix'd to mine, Cur'd the counterfeited smart, But encreast my real pain. Bees sure never from their Flow'rs Drew such Honey as I suckt From my Sylvia's humid kisses. Sure no Roses but what grow On her Lips can yield such sweets. Tho my pleasure was disturb'd

By my shame, and guilty fears: Yet I counterfeited still, And by this deceit prevail'd O're her to repeat the Charm. Something sweet from ev'ry kiss, Mixt with poyson, struck my heart; Which at last grew so inflam'd, That when once we met to play, With some other Nymphs and Swains, I, just dying with my fears, Softly whisper'd her, I Love.

Thyr.

How did Sylvia take the news? That you seem so much concern'd.

Amin.

Soon her fiery blushes shew'd Both her anger and her shame; She stood silent, but I read By her silence what she meant, That she never wou'd forgive me. Now she flies me, and will since Not so much as hear me speak. Thrice our Golden Fields have bent Under their rich loads, and thrice Winter has with nipping frosts Made our Groves and Forests bare, Since I've try'd a thousand ways To appease her, but I find Death can only calm her rage. Death shall calm her then, my blood Shall appease her for my fault. I cou'd dye, methinks, with joy, Were I sure my Death would make her Either sorrowful or glad; and I know not which to wish: Yes, her Pity would reward All my sufferings, and shew What my Constancy deserv'd. Yet, ah! why should I desire That her beauteous Eyes should weep;

Or her Rest be lost for me?

Thyr.

Oh! could she hear such killing words, Such just complaints, 'twould melt her heart, And make her pity ye.

Amin.

I fear it. But were she sensible of pity, She flies, and will not hear me speak: What hopes then that my just complaints Will melt her heart, that must not reach her ear?

Thyr.

Cease, cease your grief, I'll plead your Cause, Perhaps my Reasons may succeed, And something promises they will, If you would not despair.

'Amin.

I've reason to despair for ever, 'Sage Mopsus has foretold my fate: 'Mopsus, who understands so well 'The virtues of all Herbs and Drugs; 'Who by long study has acquir'd 'To know things past, and things to come; 'Mopsus has said, I must despair.

'Thyr.

Which Mopsus? He who speaks so fair? 'And with grave smiles declares events: 'Dark and treacherous to deceive 'Such as suppose his Oracles divine. 'He tells them, with a solemn look, 'Things that will never come to pass, 'His Prophecies prove always lies. 'Believe me, for I know him false. 'Be chearful, you have cause enough 'To hope your fortune will be good, 'Since Mopsus has pronounc'd it ill.

'Amin.

Tell me, if you'd revive my hopes, 'What makes you, Thyrsis, think him false?

'Thyr.

When I first settled in these Plains, I lov'd 'Like you, to hear him talk, and thought his words 'As wise as they were grave, but quickly found 'Mopsus a Cheat, and what he talks of, Lyes. 'For once, when I resolv'd to go and see

'The famous City which adorns the banks 'Of our great River, and by that's adorn'd, 'I told him my intentions, as a fiend, 'And thus the envious Hypocrite reply'd, 'You know not, Thyrsis, what you have resolv'd, 'Nor the vast danger you're about to run; 'For Treason reigns within her Marble walls, 'Where nothing kind or honest's to be found, 'And ev'n the name of friendship is unknown: 'Her Citizens grow wealthy by deceit, 'By treachery her Courties grow renown'd; 'On Downy Beds, and under Gilded Roofs, 'Both seem to sleep, yet both are kept awake, 'By plotting death and ruin for the weak. 'A thousand horrid Fields, in various shapes, 'Stalk thro her streets, all ready to destroy 'Such innocent and easie fools as you. 'There you will hear 'em laugh at your rude mien, 'Despise a Shepherds life, and mock our Songs. 'But above all, her shining Palace fly, 'Let nothing tempt you to approach her Gates.

'Amin.

And what could he suggest, to have you shun 'So rich a sight, which I should long to see?

'Thyr.

He told me, all things were Enchanted there; 'That the pretended Diamonds were but Glass, 'And all their Golden Vessels real Brass: 'That empty bags her massy Coffers fill'd: 'And her high Walls were rais'd up with such art, 'That they can hear and answer what is said: 'As Eccho answers in these Woods to us, 'This difference only, that they sometimes speak 'What they ne'r heard, which Eccho never does. 'That every thing you meet there has a Tongue. 'Thus prepossest by him, I went to Court, 'But soon was undeceiv'd by Glorious Quires 'Of Heavenly Virgins, who like Syrens sung; 'Their voices sweeter, but not half so false. 'Charm'd with their notes, a while I stood amaz'd,

'Till a great Prince, magnificently drest, 'His air majestick, and his mien sublime; 'A Prince, Amintas, destin'd by the Gods 'To vanquish Tyrants, and secure us Peace, 'Invited me, as rude as I appear'd, 'To see the Glories which adorn'd his Court. 'I enter'd then, but never can relare 'The Miracles I saw: a thousand Suns 'Shot forth bright Rays, and lookt as they were warm: 'I saw young Goddesses in all her Rooms: 'But met with one so eminently fair, 'Her mien so graceful, and her looks so sweet. 'That 'tis not strange if I could be deceiv'd, 'And fancy'd that she was the Queen of Heaven. 'I saw the Muses painted with their God, 'Our Sage Elpinus sitting pensive▪ by: 'And from that minute felt a noble fire 'Rage in my breast, and I resolv'd to sing 'Of War, and scorn the dying notes of Love: 'Tho since, to please another, I'm oblig'd 'To quit the City, and return to you: 'Yet my Pipe still preserves her Courtly note, 'Like the loud Trumpet in our Forests sounds; 'Mopsus has listen'd, and admires with shame, 'To hear such Musick eccho from our Woods; 'Asham'd to find that I have prov'd him false, 'And seem so much, and learnt to sing so well. 'Will ye believe still?

'Amin.

I'm glad to hear 'We have such reason to mistrust his words 'On your success my happiness depends.

'Thyr.

Depend on my success and have a care, 'The nearest way to ruin 's to despair.

CHORUS.

AH! the Golden Age is past, Which our happy Fathers blest; When whate're they long'd to taste, They but wish for, and possest.

The Meads were painted still with Flow'rs, The Birds ne'r ceas'd to sing; And then, without the help of show'rs, They saw eternal Spring.

Rivers then with Milk were fill'd, Honey from their Woods distill'd; None attempted then the Main, Nor expos'd their Lives for gain: Free from danger, want or care; Free from tumult, noise and war: They a thousand Joys possest, Peace and Plenty were the least.

Ah! the Golden, &c.

'Honour, whose Laws are so severe, 'So hard to be obey'd; 'Who reigns with so much rigor here, 'Ne're o're their pleasures sway'd.

'They only maxim which they knew 'They were by Nature taught, 'That what they had a mind to do, 'They might, without a fau••t.

'The Virgin never blush'd to shew 'By day her naked Charms; 'And when she lov'd a Swain, would go 'With freedom to his arms.

'By Woods, on Greens they danc'd and play'd, 'In Fountains kist and toy'd; 'The youth then boldly took his Maid, 'And what he lik'd enjoy'd.

'But now when men the blessing want, 'They long must court the fair in vain; 'For Honor will not let 'em grant 'The pleasure they deny with pain. 'Twas honour that first swell'd their hearts, 'That taught 'em shame, and to be coy; 'To frown, and use those little arts, 'Which only cheat 'em of their joy.

'Hence thou Idol Honour, hence; 'Leave us to our humble sports; 'Reign in Cities and in courts; 'Honor is the child of Pride: 'Here let Nature be our Guide: 'Hence thou Idol Honour, hence.