Hymen's Triumph

HYMEN’S TRIUMPH.

A pastoral tragicomedy.

Presented at the Queens’ court in the Strand at her Majesties magnificent entertainment of the King’s most excellent Majesty, being at the nuptials of the Lord Roxborough.

By Samuel Daniel.

London, imprinted for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul’s church-yard at the sign of the white Lyon. 1615.

To the most excellent majesty of the highest born princess, Anne of Denmark, Queen of England, Scotland, France and Ireland.

Here, what your sacred influence begat

(Most lov’d, and most respected Majesty)

With humble heart and hand I consecrate

Unto the glory of your memory.

As being a piece of that solemnity

Which your Magnificence did celebrate

In hallowing of those roofs you rear’d of late

With fires and cheerful hospitality.

Whereby, and by your splendent worthiness

Your name shall longer live then shall your walls,

For that fair structure goodness finishes,

Bears off all change of times and never falls.

And that is it hath let you in so far

Into the heart of England as you are.

And worthily, for never yet was queen

That more a people’s love hath merited

By all good graces and by having been

The means our State stands fast established

And blest by your blest womb, who are this day

The highest born Queen of Europe, and alone

Have brought this land more blessings every way

Than all the daughters of strange  kings have done.

For we by you no claims, no quarrels have,

No factions, no betraying of affaires:

You doe not spend our blood, nor states, but save:

You strength us by alliance, and your heirs,

Not like those fatal marriages of France,

For whom this kingdom hath so dearly paid,

Which only our afflictions did advance

And brought us far more miseries than aid.

Renowned Denmark, that hast furnished

The world with princes, how much doe we owe

To thee for this great good thou di’st bestow

Whereby we are both blest and honoured?

Thou didst not so much hurt us heretofore

But now thou hast rewarded us far more.

But what doe I on this high subject fall

Here, in the front of this low Pastoral?

This a more grave and spacious room requires

To show your glory, and my deep desires.

Your Majesty’s most humble servant

Samuel Daniel.

The Prologue.

Hymen, opposed by Avarice, Envie, and Jealousy, the disturbers of quiet marriage, first enters.

HYMEN

In this disguise and Pastoral attire,

Without my saffron robe, without my torch,

Or other ensigns of my duty

I, Hymen, am come hither secretly

To make Arcadia see a work of glory,

That shall deserve an everlasting story.

Here, shall I bring you two the most entire

And constant lovers that were ever seen

From out the greatest sufferings of annoy

That fortune could inflict to their full joy.

Wherein no wild, no rude, no antique sport,

But tender passions, motions soft, and grave,

The still spectators must expect to have.

For these are only Cynthia ’s recreatives 

Made unto Phoebus , and are feminine,

And therefore must be gentle like to her,

Whose sweet affections mildly move and stir.

And here, with this white wand, will I effect

As much as with my flaming torch of love,

And with the power thereof, affections move

In these faire nymphs and shepherds round about.

ENVY

Stay Hymen, stay; you shall not have the day

Of this great glory as you make account.

We will herein, as we were ever wont,

Oppose you in the matches you address,

And undermine them with disturbances.

HYMEN

Now, doe thy worst, base Envy, thou canst doe,

Thou shalt not disappoint my purposes.

AVARICE

Then will I, Hymen, in despite of thee,

I will make parents cross desires of love

With those respects of wealth as shall dissolve

The strongest knots of kindest faithfulness.

HYMEN

Hence, greedy Avarice; I know thou art

A hag that dost bewitch the minds of men,

Yet shalt thou have no power at all herein.

JEALOUSY

Then will I, Hymen, doe thou what thou canst,

I will steal closely into linked hearts

And shake their veins with cold distrustfulness

And ever keep them waking in their fears,

With spirits which their imagination rears.

HYMEN

Disquiet Jealousy, vile fury, thou

That art the ugly monster of the mind,

Avant , be gone! Thou shalt have nought to doe

In this fair work of ours, nor evermore

Canst enter there, where honour keeps the door.

And therefore, hideous furies, get you hence,

This place is sacred to integrity,

And clean desires: your sight most loathsome is

Unto so well dispos’d a company.

Therefore, be gone, I charge you by my power,

We must have nothing in Arcadia sour.

ENVY

Hymen, thou canst not chase us so away,

For, look how long as thou mak’st marriages,

so long will we produce incumbrances.

And we will in the same disguise as thou,

Mix us among these shepherds, that we may

Effect our work the better, being unknown;

For ills shew other faces then their own.

The Speakers.

Thyrsis.

Palaemon, friend to Thyrsis.

Clarindo, Silvia disguised, the beloved of Thyrsis, supposed to be slain by wild beasts.

Cloris, a Nymph whom Clarindo served, and in love with Thyrsis.

Phillis, in love with Clarindo.

Montanus, in love with Phillis.

Lidia, nurse to Phillis.

Dorcas, Silvanus, foresters.

Medorus, father to Silvia.

Charinus, father to Thyrsis.

Chorus of shepherds.

[1.1]

Thirsis. Palaemon.

[THIRSIS]

So to be raft of all the joys of life,

How is it possible Palaemon, I

Should ever more a thought retain

Of the least comfort upon earth again?

No, I would hate this heart, that hath receiv’d

So deep a wound, if it should ever come

To be recur’d, or would permit a room

To let in any other thing then grief.

PALAEMON

But Thirsis you must tell me what is the cause?

THIRSIS

Think but what cause I have when having pass’d

The heats, the colds, the trembling agonies

Of fears, and hopes, and all the strange assaults

Of passion that a tender heart could feel

In the attempt and pursuit of his love

And then to be undone, when all was done,

To perish in the haven. After all

Those ocean suff’rings, and even then to have

My hopeful nuptial bed turn’d to a grave.

PALAEMON

Good Thirsis by what meanes? I pray thee, tell.

THIRSIS

Tell thee? Alas Palaemon, how can I tell

And live? Doest thou not see these fields have lost

Their glory since that time Silvia was lost?

Silvia, that only deckt, that only made

Arcadia shine, Silvia who was (ah woe the while)

So miserably rent from off the world?

So rapt away, as that no sign of her,

No piece was left to tell us by what meanes

Safe only this poor remnant of her veil

All torn, and this dear lock of her rent hair,

Which holy relics here I keep with me,

The sad memorials of her dismal fate.

Who sure devoured was upon the shore

By ravenous beasts as she was walking there

Alone, it seems, perhaps in seeking me

Or else retir’d to meditate apart

The story of our loves and heavy smart.

PALAEMON

This is no news, you tell, of Silvia’s death.

That was long since: why should you wail her now?

THIRSIS

Long since Palaemon? Think you any length

Of time can ever have a power to make

A heart of flesh not mourn, not grieve, not pine,

That knows, that feels, that thinks as much as mine?

PALAEMON

But Thirsis, you know how her father meant

To match her with Alexis, and a day

To celebrate the nuptials was prefixt.

THIRSIS

True, he had such a purpose, but in vain,

As oh, it was best known unto us twain.

And hence it grew that gave us both our fears,

That made our meeting stealth, our parting tears.

Hence was it, that with many a secret wile,

We rob’d our looks th’ onlookrs to beguile

This was the cause, oh miserable cause,

That made her by herself to stray alone,

Which else God knows, she never should have done.

For had our liberty as open been

As was our loves, Silvia had not been seen

Without her Thirsis, never had we gone

But hand in hand, nor ever had mischance

Took us asunder. She had always had

My body interpos’d betwixt all harms

And her. But ah! We had our liberty

Laid fast in prison when our loves were free.

PALAEMON

But how knowst thou her love was such to thee?

THIRSIS

How do I know the sun, the day from night?

PALAEMON

Women’s affections doe like flashes prove,

They oft shew passion when they feel small love.

THIRSIS

Ah! Do not so prophane that precious sex

Which I must ever reverence for her sake,

Who was the glory of her kind, whose heart

In all her actions so transparent was,

As I might see it clear and wholly mine,

Always observing truth in one right line.

How oft hath she been urg’d by fathers threats,

By friends persuasions, and Alexis sighs,

And tears, and prayers, to admit his love,

Yet never could be won? How oft have I

Beheld the bravest herdsmen of these plains,

(As what brave herdsman was there in the plains

Of all Arcadia that had not his heart

Warm’d with her beams) to seek to win her love.

Ah! I remember well (and how can I

But ever more remember well) when first

Our flame began, when scarce we knew what was

The flame we felt, when as we sat and sigh’d

And look’d upon each other, and conceiv’d

Not what we ailed, yet something we did ail.

And yet were well and yet we were not well,

And what was our disease we could not tell.

Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look and thus

In that first garden of our simpleness

We spent our childhood. But when years began

To reap the fruit of knowledge. Ah! how then

Would she with graver looks, with sweet stern brow,

Check my presumption and my forwardness,

Yet still would give me flowers, still would me shew

What she would have me, yet not have me know.

PALAEMON

Alas! With what poor coin are lovers paid,

And taken with the smallest bait is laid?

THIRSIS

And when in sports with other company,

Of nymphs and shepherds we have met abroad

How would she steal a look, and watch mine eye

Which way it went? And when, at Barley break 

It came unto my turn to rescue her,

With what an earnest, swift, and nimble pace

Would her affection make her feet to run

And farther run then to my hand? Her race

Had no stop but my bosom where to end.

And when we were to break again, how late

And loath her trembling hand would part with mine,

And with how slow a pace would she set forth

To meet the ’ncount’ring party who contends

T’ attain her, scarce affording him her fingers ends?

PALAEMON

Fie Thirsis, with what fond remembrances

Doest thou these idle passions entertain?

For shame leave off to waste your youth in vain,

And feed on shadows! Make your choice anew.

You other nymphs shall find, no doubt will be

As lovely and as faire, and sweet as she.

THIRSIS

As faire and sweet as she? Palaemon peace,

Ah what can pictures be unto the life?

What sweetness can be found in images?

Which all nymphs else besides her seems to me.

She only was a real creature, she,

Whose memory must take up all of me.

Should I another love then must I have

Another heart, for this is full of her,

And evermore shall be; here is she drawn

At length, and whole, and more, this table is

A story and is all of her, and all

Wrought in the liveliest colours of my blood.

And can there be a room for others here?

Should I disfigure such a peace, and blot

The perfect’st workmanship love ever wrought?

Palaemon no, ah no, it cost too dear!

It must remain entire whilst life remains

The monument of her and of my pains.

PALAEMON

Thou maist  be such a fond idolater

To die for love, though that were very strange.

Love hath few saints, but many confessors.

And time no doubt will raze out all these notes

And leave a room at length for other thoughts.

THIRSIS

Yes when there is no spring, no tree, no groove

In all Arcadia to record our love

And tell me where we were, the time we were,

How we did meet together, what we said,

Where we did joy, and where we sat dismai’d.

And then I may forget her, not before.

Till then I must remember one so dear,

When everything I see tells me of her.

And you dear relics of that mart’red Saint

My heart adores, you the perpetual books

Whereon when tears permit mine eye still looks.

Ah! You were with her last, and till my last

You must remain with me. You were reserv’d

To tell me she was lost, but yet alas,

You cannot tell me how, I would you could.

White spotless veil, clean, like her womanhood,

Which whilom cov’redst the most lovely face

That ever eye beheld. Was there no message sent

From her by thee? Ah yes, there seems it was:

Here is a T made with her blood, as if

She would have written: Thirsis, I am slain

In seeking thee. Sure so it should have been,

And so I read it, and shall ever so.

And thou sweet remnant of the fairest hair

That ever wav’d with wind. Ah! Thee I found

When her I hop’d to find, wrapt in a round,

Like to an O, the character of woe.

As if to say: “O Thirsis, I die thine”.

This much you tell me yet, dumb messengers,

Of her last mind, and what you cannot tell

That I must think, which is the most extreme

Of woefulness that any heart can think.

PALAEMON

There is no dealing with this man, I see,

This humour must be let to spend itself

Unto a lesser substance, ere that we

Can any way apply a remedy.

But I lament his case and so, I know,

Do all that see him in this woeful plight

And therefore will I leave him to himself,

For sorrow that is full, hates others sight.

THIRSIS

Come boy, whilst I contemplate these remains

Of my lost love, under this myrtle tree,

Record the doleful’st song, the sighing’st notes,

That music hath to entertain bad thoughts.

Let it be all at flats my boy, all grave,

The tone that best befits the grief I have.

The Song.

Had sorrow ever fitter place

To act his part,

Then is my heart,

Where it takes up all the space?

Where is no vein

To entertain

A thought that wears another face.

Nor will I sorrow ever have,

Therein to be,

But only thee,

  To whom I full possession gave

Thou in thy name

Must hold the same,

Until thou bring it to the grave.

So boy, now leave me to myself, that I

May be alone to grief entire to misery.

[1.2]

Cloris, Clarindo.

[CLORIS]

Now gentle boy Clarindo, hast thou brought

My flocks into the field?

CLARINDO

Mistress I have.

CLORIS

And hast thou told them?

CLARINDO

Yes.

CLORIS

And are there all?

CLARINDO

All.

CLORIS

And hast thou left them safe my boy?

CLARINDO

Safe.

CLORIS

Then whilst they feed, Clarindo, I must use

Thy service in a serious business.

But thou must do it well my boy.

CLARINDO

The best I can.

CLORIS

Do’st thou know Thirsis?

CLARINDO

Yes.

CLORIS

But know’st him well?

CLARINDO

I have good reason to know Thirsis well.

CLORIS

What reason boy?

CLARINDO

I oft have seen the man.

CLORIS

Why then, he knows thee too?

CLARINDO

Yes, I suppose, unless he hath forgotten me of late.

CLORIS

But hath he heard thee sing my boy?

CLARINDO

He hath.

CLORIS

Then doubtless he doth well remember thee.

Well, unto him thou must a message do

From thy sad mistress Cloris; but thou must

Doe it exactly well, with thy best grace,

Best choice of language, and best countenance.

I know thou canst doe well, and hast a speech

And fashion pleasing to perform the same.

Nor can I have a fitter messenger

In this employment then thy self my boy.

For sure me thinks, noting thy form and grace,

That thou hast much of Silvia in thy face,

Which if he shall perceive as well as I,

sure, he will give thee audience willingly.

And for her sake, if not for mine, hear out

Thy message, for he still (though she be dead)

Holds sparkles of her unextinguished.

And that is death to me, for though sometimes

Silvia and I most dear companions were,

Yet when I saw he did so much prefer

Her before me, I deadly hated her

And was not sorry for her death, and yet

Was sorry she should come to such a death.

But to the purpose, goe to Thirsis, boy:

Say thou art Cloris servant, sent to be

The messenger of her distressed tears,

Who languishes for him and never shall

Have comfort more, unless he give it her.

CLARINDO

I will.

CLORIS

Nay but stay boy, ther’s something else.

Tell him, his cruelty makes me undoe

My modesty, and to put on that part

Which appertains to him, that is to woo;

And to disgrace my sex, to show my heart,

Which no man else could have had power to doe.

And that unless he doe restore me back

Unto myself by his like love to me,

I cannot live.

CLARINDO

All this I’ll tell him too.

CLORIS

Nay but stay boy, there is yet more:

Tell him, it will no honour be to him,

Whenever it shall come to be made known,

That he hath been her death that was his own.

And how his love hath fatal been to two

Distressed nymphs.

CLARINDO

This will I tell him too.

CLORIS

Nay but stay boy, wilt thou say nothing else,

As of thy self, to waken up his love?

Thou mayst say something which I may not say,

And tell him how thou holdst me full as fair,

Yea and more fair, more lovely, more complete

Then ever Silvia was. More wise, more stai’d,

How she was but a light and wavering maid.

CLARINDO

Nay, there I leave you, that I cannot say.

CLORIS

What sayst thou boy?

CLARINDO

Nothing, but that I will

Endeavour all I can to work his love.

CLORIS

Doe good my boy, but thou must yet add more,

As from thy self & say, what an unkind

And barbarous part it is to suffer thus

So beauteous and so rare a nymph to pine

And perish for his love. And such a one,

As if she would have stoop’d to others flame,

Hath had the gallantst herdsmen of these fields

Fall at her feet, all which she hath despis’d,

Having her heart before by thee surpris’d.

And now doth nothing else, but sit and mourn,

Speak Thirsis, weep Thirsis, sigh Thirsis, and

Sleep Thirsis when she sleeps, which is but rare.

Besides, good boy thou must not stick to swear,

Thou oft hast seen me sown and sink to ground

In these deep passions, wherein I abound.

For something thou maist say beyond the truth,

By reason of my love, and of thy youth.

Doe, good Clarindo swear, and vow thus much.

But do’st thou now remember all I say,

Do’st thou forget no parcel of my speech,

Shall I repeat the same again to thee?

Or else wilt thou rehearse it unto me?

That I may know thou hast it perfect, boy.

CLARINDO

It shall not need, be sure I will report,

What you enjoin me, in most earnest sort.

CLORIS

Ah doe good boy! Although I fear it will,

Avail me little, for I doubt his heart

Is repossessed with another love.

CLARINDO

Another love? Who may that be, I pray?

CLORIS

With Amarillis, I have heard, for they

Are thought, will in the end make up a match.

CLARINDO

With Amarillis? Well, yet will I goe,

And try his humour whether it be so?

CLORIS

Goe good Clarindo, but thou must not fail

To work effectually for my avail.

And doe not stay, return with speed good boy,

My passions are to great t’ endure delay.

[1.3]

Clarindo sol.

Thirsis in love with Amarillis? Then

In what a case am I? What doth avail

This alt’red habit that belies my sex?

What boots it t’ have escap’d from pirate’s hands

And with such wiles to have deceiv’d their wills,

If I return to fall on worser ills?

In love with Amarillis? Is that so?

Is Silvia then forgot? That hath endur’d

So much for him? Doe all these miseries

(Caus’d by his means) deserve no better hire?

Was it the greatest comfort of my life,

To have return’d that I might comfort him?

And am I welcom’d thus? Ah did mine eyes

Take never rest, after I was arriv’d

Till I had seen him, though unknown to him?

Being hidden thus, and cover’d with disguise

And masculine attire, to temporize

Until Alexis’ marriage day be past,

Which shortly as I hear will be and which

Would free me wholly from my father’s fear

Who if he knew I were return’d, would yet

Undoe I doubt that match, to match me there.

Which would be more than all my suff’rings were.

Indeed, me thought when I beheld the face

Of my dear Thirsis, I beheld a face

Confounded all with passion, which did much

Afflict my heart, but yet I little thought

It could have been for any other’s love.

I did suppose the memory of me

And of my rapture had possest him so,

As made him shew that countenance of woe.

And much ado had I then to forbear

From casting me into his arms, and yield

What comfort my poor self could yield, but that

I thought our joys would not have been complete,

But might have yielded us annoys as great,

Unless I could come wholly his, and clear’d

From all those former dangers which we fear’d,

Which now a little stay (though any stay

Be death to me) would wholly take away.

And therefore, I resolv’d myself to bear

This burthen of our sufferings yet a while,

And to become a servant in this guise

To her I would have scorned otherwise

And be at all commands, to goe, and come,

To trudge into the fields early and late.

Which though I know, it misbecomes my state,

Yet it becomes my fortune, which is that

Not Phillis whom I serve, but since I serve

I will doe what I doe most faithfully.

But Thirsis, is it possible that thou

Shouldst so forget me, and forgo thy vow?

Or is it but a flying vain report

That slanders thine affection in this sort?

It may be so, and God grant it may be so:

I shall soon find if thou be false or no:

But ah here comes my Fury, I must fly.

[1.4]

Phillis, Clarindo.

[PHILLIS]

Ah cruel youth, whither away so fast?

CLARINDO

Good Phillis do not stay me, I have haste.

PHILLIS

What haste shouldst thou have but to comfort me,

Who hath no other comfort but in thee?

CLARINDO

Alas thou do’st but trouble me in vain,

I cannot help thee, ’t is not in my power.

PHILLIS

Not in thy power Clarindo? Ah! If thou

Hadst anything of manliness, thou would’st.

CLARINDO

But if I have not, what doth it avail

In this sort to torment thyself and me?

And therefore prithee Phillis, let me goe.

PHILLIS

Ah whither canst thou go, where thou shalt be

More dearly lov’d and cherisht than with me?

CLARINDO

But that my purpose cannot satisfy,

I must be gone, there is no remedy.

PHILLIS

O cruel youth, will thy hart nothing move?

Show me yet pity, if thou show not love.

CLARINDO

Believe me Phillis, I do pity thee;

And more, lament thy error, so farewell.

PHILLIS

And art thou gone hard-hearted youth? Hast thou

Thus disappointed my desires, and left

My shame t’ afflict me worser then my love?

Now in what case am I, that neither can

Recall my modesty, nor thee again?

Ah were it now to do again, my passions should

Have smoth’red me to death, before I would

Have shew’d the smallest sparkle of my flame.

But it is done, and I am now undone.

Ah hadst thou been a man, and had that part

Of understanding of a woman’s heart,

My words had been unborn, only mine eyes

Had been a tongue enough to one were wise.

But this it is, to love a boy, whose years

Conceives not his own good, nor weighs my tears,

But this disgrace I justly have deserv’d.

[1.5]

Lidia, Phillis.

[LIDIA]

So Phillis, have you, and y’ are rightly serv’d.

Have you disdain’d the gallanst foresters

And bravest herdsmen all Arcadia hath,

And now in love with one is not a man?

Assure yourself this is a just revenge

Love takes, for your misprision  of his power.

I told you often there would come a time

When you would sure be plagu’d for such a crime.

But you would laugh at me, as one you thought

Conceiv’d not of what metal you were wrought.

Is this you, who would wonder any nymphs

Could ever be so foolish as to love?

Who is so foolish now? 

PHILLIS        Peace Lidia, peace,

Add not more grief t’a heart that hath too much,

Do not insult upon her misery,

Whose flame, God wot, needs water, and not oil.

Thou seest I am undone, caught in the toil

Of an entangling mischief, tell me how

I may recover and unwind me now?

LIDIA

That doth require more time, we will apart

Consult thereof, be you but rul’d by me,

And you shall find I, yet, will set you free.

Exeunt.

The song of the first Chorus.

Love is a sickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing,

A plant that with most cutting grows,

Most barren with best using.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies,

If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries:

“Hey ho!”.

Love is a torment of the mind,

A tempest everlasting,

And Jove hath made it of a kind

Not well, nor full nor fasting.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies,

If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries:

“Hey ho!”.

[2.1]

Silvanus, Dorcas, Montanus.

[SILVANUS]

In what a mean regard are we now held,

We active and laborious foresters?

Who though our living rural be and rough,

Yet heretofore were we for valour priz’d

And well esteem’d in all good companies,

Nor would the daintiest nymphs that valleys haunt

Or fields inhabit, ever have despis’d

Our silvan  songs, nor yet our plain discourse,

But gracefully accepted of our skill

And often of our loves, when they have seen

How faithful and how constant we have been.

DORCAS

It’s true Silvanus, but you see the times

Are alt’red now, and they so dainty grown

By being ador’d, and woo’d, and followed so

Of those unsinewed  amorous herdsmen who,

By reason of their rich and mighty flocks,

Supply their pleasures with that plenteousness

As they disdain our plainness and do scorn

Our company, as men rude and ill borne.

SILVANUS

Well, so they doe, but Dorcas if you mark

How oft they doe miscarry in their love,

Aud how disloyal these fine herdsmen prove,

You shall perceive how their abundant store

Pays not their expectation, nor desires.

Witness these groves wherein they oft deplore

The miserable passions they sustain,

And how perfidious, wayward, and unkind

They find their loves to be; which we, who are

The eyes and ears of woods, oft see and hear.

For hither to these groves they much resort,

And here one wails apart the usage hard

Of her disord’red, wild, and wilful mate.

There mourns another her unhappy state,

Held ever in restraint and in suspect.

Another to her trusty confident

Laments how she is matcht to such a one

As cannot give a woman her content.

Another grieves how she hath got a fool

Whose bed although she loath, she must endure.

And thus, they all unhappy by that means

Which they accompt would bring all happiness

Most wealthily are plagu’d with rich distress.

DORCAS

And so they are, but yet this was not wont

To be the fashion here. There was a time

Before Arcadia came to be diseas’d

With these corrupted humours reigning now,

That choice was made of virtue and desert,

Without respect of any other ends.

When love was only master of their hearts,

And rul’d alone, when simple thoughts produc’d

Plain honest deeds, and every one contends

To have his fame to follow his deserts,

And not his shows to be the same he was,

Not seem’d to be. And then were no such parts

Of false deceivings plai’d as now we see.

But after that accursed greediness

Of wealth began to enter and possess

The hearts of men, integrity was lost,

And with it they themselves, for never more

Came they to be in their own power again.

That tyrant vanquisht them, made them all slaves,

That brought base servitude into the world,

Which else had never been, that only made

Them to endure all whatsoever weights

Power could devise to lay upon their neck.

For rather than they would not have, they would not be

But miserable. So that no device

Needs else to keep them under, they themselves

Will bear far more than they are made, themselves

Will add unto their fetters, rather than

They would not be or held to be great men.

SILVANUS

Then Dorcas, how much more are we to prize

Our mean estate, which they so much despise?

Considering that we doe enjoy thereby

The dearest thing in nature, liberty.

And are not tortur’d with those hopes and fears,

Th’ afflction laid on superfluities,

Which make them to obscure and serve the times,

But are content with what the earth, the woods,

And rivers near doe readily afford

And therewithal furnish our homely board.

Those unbought cates please our unlearned throats

That understand not dainties, even as well

As all their delicates, which doe but stuff

And not sustain the stomach. And indeed

A well observing belly doth make much

For liberty; for he that can but live,

Although with roots, and have no hopes, is free

Without the verge of any sov’reignty.

And is a Lord at home, commands the day

As his till night, and then reposes him

At his own hours; thinks on no stratagem

But how to take his game, hath no design

To cross next day, no plots to undermine.

DORCAS

But why Montanus doe you look so sad?

What is the cause your mind is not as free

As your estate? What, have you had of late

Some coy repulse of your disdainful nymph

To whom love hath subdu’d you? Who indeed

Our only master is, and no lord else

But he hath any power to vex us here;

Which had he not, we too too happy were.

MONTANUS

In troth I must confess, when now you two

Found me in yonder thicket, I had lost

Myself by having seen that which I would

I had not had these eyes to see, and judge

If I great reason have not to complain:

You see I am a man, though not so gay

And delicately clad, as are your fine

And amorous dainty herdsmen; yet a man,

And that not base, not un-allied to Pan,

And of a spirit doth not degenerate

From my robustious manly ancestors,

Being never foil’d in any wrestling game,

But still have borne away the chiefest prize

In every brave and active exercise.

Yet notwithstanding, that disdainful maid,

Proud Phillis, doth despise me and my love,

And will not deign so much as hear me speak,

But doth abjure, forsooth, the thought of love.

Yet shall I tell you (yet asham’d to tell)

This coy unloving soul, I saw ere while

soliciting a youth, a smooth fac’d boy,

Whom in her arms she held (as seem’d to me,

Being closely busht a pretty distance off)

Against his will, and with strange passion urg’d

His stay, who, seem’d, struggled to get away

And yet she staid him, yet intreats his stay.

At which strange sight, imagine I that stood

spectator, how confoundedly I stood,

And hardly could forbear from running in

To claim for mine, if ever love had right,

Those her embraces cast away in sight.

But staying to behold the end, I staid

Too long, the boy gets loose, herself retires,

And you came in. But if I live, that boy

shall dearly pay for his misfortune, that

He was beloved of her of whom I would

Have none on earth beloved, but myself.

DORCAS

That were to bite the stone, a thing unjust,

To punish him for her conceived lust.

MONTANUS

Tush, many in this world we see are caught,

And suffer for misfortune, not their fault.

SILVANUS

But that would not become your manliness,

Montanus, it were shame for valiant men

To doe unworthily.

MONTANUS

Speake not of that, Silvanus, if my rage

Irregular be made, it must work like effects.

DORCAS

These are but billows tumbling after storms,

They last not long, come let some exercise

Divert that humour, and convert your thoughts

To know yourself. Scorn her who scorneth you,

Idolatrize not so that sex, but hold

A man of straw more then a wife of gold.

Exeunt.

[2.2]

Lidia, Phillis.

LIDIA

You must not, Phillis, be so sensible

Of these small touches which your passion makes.

PHILLIS

Small touches Lidia, do you count the small?

Can there unto a woman worse befall

Then hath to mee? What? Have not I lost all

That is most dear to us, love and my fame?

Is there a third thing Lidia you can name

That is so precious as to match with these?

LIDIA

Now silly girl, how fondly doe you talk?

How have you lost your fame? What for a few

Ill-favour’d loving words utt’red in jest

Unto a foolish youth? Cannot you say

You did but to make trial how you could,

If such a peevish qualm of passion should

(As never shall) oppress your tender heart,

Frame your conceit to speak, to look, to sigh

Like to a heart-strook lover; and that you

Perceiving him to be a bashful youth,

Thought to put spirit in him, and make you sport.

PHILLIS

Ah Lidia, but he saw I did not sport,

He saw my tears, and more, what shall I say?

He saw too much, and that which never man

Shall ever see again whilst I have breath.

LIDIA

Are you so simple as you make yourself?

What did he see? A counterfeited show

Of passion, which you may, if you were wise,

Make him as easily to unbelieve

As what he never saw, and think his eyes

Conspir’d his understanding to deceive.

How many women, think you, being espied

In near-touching cases by mischance,

Have yet not only fac’d their lovers down

For what they saw, but brought them to believe

They had not seen the thing which they had seen,

Yea and to swear it too, and to condemn

Themselves? Such means can wit devise

To make men’s minds uncredit their own eyes.

And therefore, let not such a toy as this

Disease your thoughts, and for your loss of love,

It is as much as nothing. I would turn

A passion upon that should overturn

It clean, and that is wrath; one heat

Expels another, I would make my thoughts of scorn

To be in height so much above my love,

As they should ease and please me more by far.

I would disdain to cast a look that way

Where he should stand, unless it were in scorn,

Or think a thought of him, but how to work

Him all disgrace that possibly I could.

PHILLIS

That Lidia can I never doe, let him

Do what he will to me, report my shame,

And vaunt his fortune, and my weakness blame.

LIDIA

Nay as for that he shall be so well charm’d

Ere I have done, as you shall fear no tales.

PHILLIS

Ah Lidia, could that be without his harm,

How blessed should I be? But see where comes

My great tormentor, hat rude forester.

Good Lidia let us fly, I hate his sight

Next to the ill I suffer, let us fly,

We shall be troubled with him woefully.

LIDIA

Content you Phillis, stay and hear him speak:

We may make use of him more than you think.

PHILLIS

What use can of so gross a piece be made?

LIDIA

The better use be sure, for being gross

Your subtler spirits full of their finesses

Serve their own turns in others businesses.

[2.3]

Montanus, Lidia, Phillis.

[MONTANUS]

What pleasure can I take to chase wild beasts,

When I myself am chas’d more eagerly

By mine own passions, and can find no rest?

Let them who have their heart at liberty,

Attend those sports. I cannot be from hence,

Where I receiv’d my hurt, here must I tread

The maze of my perplexed misery.

And here see where she is the cause of all?

And now, what shall I doe? What shall I say?

How shall I look? How stand? Which utter first?

My love or wrath? Alas I know not which.

Now were it not as good have been away,

As thus to come, and not tell what to say?

PHILLIS

See Lidia see, how savagely he looks,

Good let us goe, I never shall endure

To hear him bellow. 

LIDIA        Prithee Phillis, stay

And give him yet the hearing, in respect

He loves you, otherwise you show yourself

A savage more than he. 

PHILLIS         Well, it I hear,

I will not answer him a word, you shall reply,

And prithee Lidia doe reply for me.

LIDIA

For that we shall, Phillis, doe well enough

When he begins, who seems is very long,

To give the onset, sure the man is much

Perplexed, or he studies what to say.

PHILLIS

Good Lidia see how he hath trickt himself,

Now sure this gay fresh suite as seems to me

Hangs like green ivy on a rotten tree.

LIDIA

Some beasts doe wear grey beards beside your goats

And bear with him, this suit bewrays  young thoughts

MONTANUS

Ah was it not enough to be opprest

With that confounding passion of my love

And her disdain, but that I must be torn

With wrath and envy too, and have no vein

Free from the rack of suff’rings, that I can

Nor speak nor think but most distractedly?

How shall I now begin, that have no way

To let out any passion by itself,

But that they all will thrust together so

As none will be expressed as they ought?

But something I must say now I am here.

And be it what it will, love, envy, wrath,

Or all together in a cumberment ,

My words must be like me, perplext and rent,

And so I’ll to her.  

PHILLIS      Lidia, see he comes.

LIDIA

He comes indeed, and as me thinks doth

More trouble in his face by far, then love.

MONTANUS

Fair Phillis, and too faire for such a one, show

Unless you kinder were, or better then

I know you are, how much I have endur’d

For you, although you scorn to know, I feel,

And did imagine, that in being a man

Who might deserve regard, I should have been

Prefer’d before a boy. But well, I see

Your seeming and your being disagree.

PHILLIS

What Lidia, doth he brawl? What means he thus

To speak and look in this strange sort on me?

MONTANUS

Well modest Phillis, never look so coy,

These eyes beheld you dallying with a boy.

PHILLIS

Me with a boy, Montanus? When? Where? How?

MONTANUS

Today, here, in most lascivious sort.

LIDIA

Ah, ha, belike he saw you Phillis, when

This morning you did strive with Cloris boy

To have your garland, which he snatcht away,

And kept it from you by strong force and might,

And you again laid hold upon the same,

And held it fast until with much ado

He wrung it from your hands, and got away.

And this is that great matter which he saw.

Now fie Montanus fie, are you so gross,

T’ imagine such a worthy nymph as she

Would be in love with such a youth as he?

Why now you have undone your credit quite,

You never can make her amends for this

So impious a surmise, nor ever can

She, as she reason hath, but must despise

your grossness, who should rather have come in

And righted her, then suffer such a one

To offer an indignity so vile

And you stand prying in a bush the while.

MONTANUS

What do I hear? What, am I not myself?

How? Have mine eyes double undone me then?

First seeing Phillis face, and now her fact,

Or else the fact I saw, I did not see?

And since thou hast my understanding wrong’d,

And traitor-like given false intelligence

Whereby my judgement comes to passe amiss.

And yet I think my sense was in the right

And yet in this amaze I cannot tell,

But howsoever, I in an error am

In loving, or believing, or in both.

And therefore Phillis, at thy feet I fall,

And pardon crave for this my gross surmise.

LIDIA

But this, Montanus, will not now suffice.

You quite have lost her, and your hopes and all.

MONTANUS

Good Lidia yet entreat her to relent

And let her but command me anything

That is within the power of man to do,

And you shall find Montanus will perform

More than a giant, and will stead her more

Than all the herdsmen in Arcadia can.

LIDIA

She will command you nothing, but I wish

You would a little terrify that boy

As he may never dare to use her name

But in all reverence as is fit for her.

But doe not you examine him a word,

For that were neither for your dignity,

Nor hers, that such a boy as he should stand

And justify himself in such a case,

Who would but fain untruths unto your face.

And herein you some service shall perform

As may perhaps make her to think on you.

MONTANUS

Alas, this is a work so far, so low

Beneath my worth, as I account it none,

Were it t’ encounter some fierce mountain beast

Or monster, it were something fitting me.

But yet this will I doe, and doe it home,

Assure you Lidia, as I live I will.

PHILLIS

But yet I would not have you hurt the youth,

For that were neither grace for you nor me.

MONTANUS

That, as my rage will tolerate, must be.

[2.4]

Cloris, Clarindo.

[CLORIS]

Here comes my long-expected messenger,

God grant the news he brings may make amends

For his long stay, and sure, I hope it will.

Me thinks his face bewrays more jollity

In his returning than in going hence.

CLARINDO

Well, all is well, no Amarillis hath

Supplanted Silvias love in Thirsis heart,

Nor any shall, but see where Cloris looks

For what I shall not bring her at this time.

CLORIS

Clarindo though my longing would be fain

Dispatch’d at once, and hear my doom pronounc’d

All in a word of either life or death,

Yet doe not tell it but by circumstance.

Tell me the manner where and how thou foundst

My Thirsis, what he said, how look’d, how far’d,

How he receiv’d my message, used thee,

And all in brief, but yet be sure tell all.

CLARINDO

All will I tell as near as I can tell.

First after tedious searching up and down

I found him all alone, like a hurt deer,

Got under cover in a shady grove,

Hard by a little crystal purling spring

Which but one sullen note of murmur held

And where no sun could see him, where no eye

Might overlook his lovely primacy.

There in a path of his own making trode 

Bare as a common way, yet led no way

Beyond the turns he made (which were but short)

With arms across, his hat down on his eyes

(As if those shades yielded not shade enough

To darken them) he walks with often stops,

Uneven pace, like motions to his thoughts.

And when he heard me coming, for his ears

Were quicker watches than his eyes, it seem’d,

He suddenly looks up, stays suddenly,

And with a brow that told how much the sight

Of any interrupter troubled him,

Beheld me, without speaking any word,

As if expecting what I had to say.

I, finding him in this confus’d dismay,

(Who heretofore had seen him otherwise,

I must confess, for tell you all I must)

A trembling passion overwhelm’d my breast,

so that I likewise stood confus’d and dumb,

And only lookt on him, as he on me.

In this strange posture like two statues we

Remain’d a while, but with this difference set:

He blusht, and I look’d pale, my face did shew

Joy to see him, his, trouble to be seen.

At length bethinking me for what I came,

What part I had to act, I rous’d my spirits,

And set myself to speak, although I wisht

He would have first begun, and yet before

A word would issue twice I bow’d my knee,

Twice kisst my hand, my action so much was

More ready than my tongue. At last I told

Whose messenger I was, and how I came

To intimate the sad distressed case

Of an afflicted nymph whose only help

Remain’d in him. He, when he heard the name

of Cloris, turns away his head and shrinks,

As if he grieved that you should grieve for him.

CLORIS

No, no, it troubled him to hear my name,

Which he despises, is he so perverse

And wayward still? Ah, then I see no hope.

Clarindo, would to God thou hadst not gone,

I could be, but as now, I am undone.

CLARINDO

Have patience mistress! And but hear the rest.

When I perceiv’d his suff’ring, with the touch

And sudden stop it gave him, presently

I laid on all the weights that motion might

Procure, and him besought, adjur’d , invok’d,

By all the rights of nature, piety,

And manliness, to hear my message out.

Told him how much the matter did import

Your safety and his fame. How he was bound

In all humanity to right the same.

CLORIS

That was well done my boy, what said he then?

CLARINDO

He turns about, and fixt his eyes on me,

Content to give his ears a quiet leave

To hear me. When I fail’d not to relate

All what I had in charge, and all he hears,

And looks directly on me all the while.

CLORIS

I doubt he noted thee more than thy words,

But now Clarindo, what was his reply?

CLARINDO

Thus: “tell fair Cloris, my good boy, how that

I am not so disnatured a man

Or so ill borne, to disesteem her love,

Or not to grieve (as I protest I doe)

That she should so afflict herself for me.

But”

CLORIS  Ah now comes that bitter word of “but”

Which makes all nothing that was said before.

That smooths and wounds, that strokes and dashes more

Than flat denials or a plain disgrace.

But tell me yet what followed on that “but”?

CLARINDO

“Tell her” said he “that I desire she would

Redeem herself at any price she could

And never let her think on me who am

But even the bark and outside of a man

That trades not with the living, neither can

Nor ever will keep other company

Than with the dead. My Silvia’s memory

Is all that I must ever live withal”.

With that his tears, which likewise forced mine,

set me again upon another rack

Of passion so that of myself I sought

To comfort him the best I could devise.

And I besought him that he would not be

Transported thus, but know that with the dead

He should no more converse and how his love

Was living that would give him all content,

And was all his entire, and pure, and wisht

To live no longer than she should be so.

When more I would have said, he shook his head

And will’d me speak no further at that time

But leave him to himself, and to return

Again anon, and he would tell me more,

Commending me for having done the part

Both of a true and moving messenger.

And so I took my leave, and came my way.

CLORIS

Return again? No, to what end,

If he be so conceited, and so fond

To entertain a shadow? I have done

And wish that I had never done so much.

Shall I descend below myself, to send

To one is not himself? Let him alone

With his dead image, you shall goe no more!

Have I here fram’d with all the art I could

This garland deckt with all the various flowers

Arcadia yields in hope he would send back

some comfort that I might therewith have crown’d

His love, and witness’d mine, in th’ endless round

Of this fair ring, the Character of faith.

But now he shall have none of it, I rather will

Rend it in pieces, and dishatter  all

Into a Chaos, like his formless thoughts.

But yet, thou sayst he will’d thee to return

And he would tell thee more.

CLARINDO

Yes so he said.

CLORIS

Perhaps thy words might yet so work with him

As that he takes this time to think on them,

And then I should doe wrong to keep thee back.

Well, thou shalt goe, and carry him from me

This garland, work it what effect it will.

But yet, I know it will doe nothing. Stay!

Thou shalt not goe, for sure he said but that

To put thee off that he might be alone

At his idolatry, in worshipping

A nothing, but his self-made images.

But yet he may be wearied with those thoughts

As having worn them long, and end they must,

And this my message coming in fit time,

And movingly delivered, may take hold.

He said thou wert a moving messenger

Clarindo, did he not?

CLARINDO

Yes so he said.

CLORIS

Well, thou shalt goe, and yet if any thought

Of me should move him, he knows well my mind

(if not too well) and where he may me find.

Thou shalt not goe Clarindo, nor will I

Disgrace me more with importunity.

And yet if such a motion should take fire,

And find no matter ready, it would out,

And opportunities must not be slackt.

Clarindo, thou shalt goe, and as thou goest,

Look to my flock, and so God speed thee well.

[2.5]

Clarindo, alias Silvia, sol.

Well, this employment makes for my avail,

For hereby have I meanes to see my love

Who likewise sees me, though he sees me not,

Nor doe I see him as I would I did.

But I must by some means or other make

Him know I live, and yet not so as he

May know that I am I, for fear we might

Miscarry in our joys by over-haste.

But it is more than time his suff’rings were

Reliev’d in some close sort; and that can I devise

No way to doe, but by relating how

I heard of an escape a nymph did make

From pirates lately and was safe return’d.

And so, to tell some story that contains

Our fortunes and our loves, in other names

And wish him to expect the like event,

For I perceive him very well content

To hear me speak, and sure he hath some note,

Although so darkly drawn as that his eyes

Cannot expressly read it, yet it shows

Him som’thing, which he rather feels than knows.

The song of the second Chorus.

Desire that is of things ungot ,

See what travail it procureth

And how much the mind endureth

To gain what yet it gaineth not.

For never was it paid

The charge defray’d ,

According to the price of thought.

[3.1]

Charinus, the father of Thirsis, Palaemon.

[CHARINUS]

Palaemon, you me thinks might something work

With Thirsis, my aggrieved son, and sound

His humour what it is and why he thus

Afflicts himself in solitariness.

You two were wont to be most inward friends,

And glad I was to see it knowing you

To be a man well temp’red, fit to sort

With his raw youth, can you doe nothing now

To win him from this vile captivity

Of passion that withholds him from the world?

PALAEMON

In troth, Charinus, I have oftentimes,

As one that suff’red for his grievances,

Assay’d to find a way into the cause

Of his so strange dismay, and by all means

Advis’d him make redemption of himself

And come to life again, and be a man

With men, but all serves not, I find him lockt

Fast to his will, allege I what I can.

CHARINUS

But will he not impart to you the cause?

PALAEMON

The cause is love, but it is such a love

As is not to be had. 

CHARINUS     Not to be had?

Palaemon, if his love be regular,

Is there in all Arcadia any she

Whom his ability, his shape, and worth

May not attain, he being my only son?

PALAEMON

She is not in Arcadia whom he loves,

Nor in the world, and yet he dearly loves.

CHARINUS

How may that be, Palaemon? Tell me plain.

PALAEMON

Thus plainly: he’s in love with a dead woman,

And that so far as with the thought of her

Which hath shut out all other, he alone

Lives, and abhors to be, or seen, or known.

CHARINUS

What was this creature could possess him so?

PALAEMON

Fair Silvia, old Medorus’ daughter, who

Was two years past reported to be slain

By savage beasts upon our country shore.

CHARINUS

Is that his grief? Alas, I rather thought

It appertain’d unto another’s part

To wail her death: Alexis should doe that

To whom her father had disposed her,

And she esteemed only to be his.

Why should my son afflict him more for her

Than doth Alexis, who this day doth wed

Fair Galatea, and forgets the dead?

And here the shepherds come to celebrate

His joyful nuptials with all merriment,

Which doth increase my cares, considering

The comforts other parents doe receive.

And therefore, good Palaemon, work all means

You can to win him from his peevish will,

And draw him to these shows, to companies,

That others pleasures may enkindle his.

And tell him what a sin he doeth commit,

To waste his youth in solitariness,

And take a course to end us all in him.

PALAEMON

Assure yourself Charinus, as I have

So will I still employ my utmost power

To save him, for me thinks it pity were

So rare a piece of worth should so be lost,

That ought to be preserved at any cost.

[3.2]

Charinus, Medorus.

Medorus come, we two must sit and mourn

Whilst others revel. We are not for sports

Or nuptial shows, which will but show us more

Our miseries in being both depriv’d

The comforts of our issue, which might have

(And was as like to have) made our hearts

As joyful now, as others are in theirs.

MEDORUS

Indeed Charinus, I for my part have

Just cause to grieve amidst these festivals,

For they should have been mine. This day I should

Have seen my daughter Silvia how she would

Have woman’d it, these rites had been her grace,

And she had sat in Galatea’s place.

And now had warm’d my heart to see my blood

Preserv’d in her had she not been so rapt

And rent from off the living as she was.

But your case is not parallel with mine,

You have a son, Charinus, that doth live

And may one day to you like comforts give.

CHARINUS

Indeed, I have a son, but yet to say he lives,

I cannot, for who lives not to the world,

Nor to himself, cannot be said to live.

For ever since that you your daughter lost,

I lost my son, for from that day he hath

Embark’d in shades and solitariness,

Shut himself up from sight or company

Of any living, and as now I heard,

By good Palaemon, vows still so to doe.

MEDORUS

And did your son my daughter love so dear?

Now good Charinus, I must grieve the more,

If more my heart could suffer than it doth,

For now I feel the horror of my deed

In having crost the worthiest match on earth.

Now I perceive why Silvia did refuse

To marry with Alexis, having made

A worthier choice which, oh had I had grace

To have foreseen, perhaps this dismal chance

Never had been, and now they both had had

Joy of their loves and we the like of them.

But ah my greedy eye! Viewing the large

And spacious sheep-walks joining unto mine,

Whereof Alexis was possest, made me,

As worldlings doe, desire to marry grounds

And not affections, which have other bounds.

How oft have I with threats, with promises,

With all persuasions, sought to win her mind

To fancy him, yet all would not prevail?

How oft hath she again upon her knees

With tears besought me: “oh dear father mine

Doe not enforce me to accept a man

I cannot fancy, rather take from me

The life you gave me, than afflict it so”.

Yet all this would not alter mine intent,

This was the man she must affect or none.

But ah what sin was this to torture so

A heart forevow’d unto a better choice,

Where goodness met in one the self-same point,

And virtues answer’d in an equal joint?

Sure, sure, Charinus, for this sin of mine

The gods bereft me of my child, and would

Not have her be, to be without her heart,

Nor me take joy where I did none impart.

CHARINUS

Medorus, thus we see man’s wretchedness

That learns his errors but by their success

And when there is no remedy, and now

We can but wish it had been otherwise.

MEDORUS

And in that wish Charinus we are rackt

But I remember now I often have

Had shadows in my sleep that figures bare

Of some such liking twixt your child and mine.

And this last night a pleasing dream I had

(Though dreams of joy make wakers minds more sad)

Me thought my daughter Silvia was return’d

In most strange fashion, and upon her knees

Craves my good will for Thirsis, otherwise

She would be gone again and seen no more.

I at the sight of my dear child, was rapt

With that excess of joy, as gave no time

Either for me to answer her request,

Or leave for sleep to figure out the rest.

CHARINUS

Alas Medorus, dreams are vapours, which

Engend’red with day thoughts, fall in the night

And vanish with the morning, are but made

Afflictions unto man, to th’ end he might

Not rest in rest, but toil both day and night.

But see here comes my solitary son,

Let us stand close Medorus out of sight,

And note how he behaves himself in this

Affliction and distressed case of his.

[3.3]

Thirsis solus.

This is the day, the day, the lamentable day

Of my destruction, which the sun hath twice

Return’d unto my grief, which keep one course

Continually with it in motion like.

But that they never set, this day doth claim

Th’ especial tribute of my sighs and tears,

Though every day I duly pay my tears

Unto that soul which this day left the world.

And yet I know not why. Me thoughts the sun

Arose this day with far more cheerful rays

With brighter beams than usually it did

As if it would bring something of release

Unto my cares, or else my spirit hath had

some manner of intelligence with hope

Wherewith my heart is unacquainted yet,

And that might cause mine eye with quicker sense

To note th’ appearing of the eye of heaven.

But something sure I feel which doth bear up

The weight of sorrow easier than before.

[3.4]

Palaemon, Thirsis.

What Thirsis still in passion? Still one man?

For shame show not yourself so weakly set,

So feebly jointed that you cannot bear

The fortunes of the world like other men.

Believe me Thirsis you much wrong your worth:

This is to be no man, to have no powers.

Passions are women’s parts, actions ours.

I was in hope t’ have found you otherwise.

THIRSIS

How? Otherwise Palaemon? Doe not you

Hold it to be a most heroic thing

To act one man, and doe that part exact?

Can there be in the world more worthiness

Than to be constant? Is there anything

Shows more a man? What, would you have me change

Tat were to have me base, that were indeed

To show a feeble heart, and weakly set?

No no, Palaemon, I should think myself

The most unworthy man of men, should I

But let a thought into this heart of mine

That might disturb or shake my constancy.

And think Palaemon I have combats too,

To be the man I am, being built of flesh,

And having round about me traitors too

That seek to undermine my powers, and steal

Into my weaknesses, but that I keep

Continual watch and ward upon myself,

Least I should be surpriz’d at unawares

And taken from my vows with other snares.

And even now at this instant I confess,

Palaemon, I doe feel a certain touch

Of comfort, which I fear to entertain,

Least it should be some spy, sent as a train

To make discovery of what strength I am.

PALAEMON

Ah worthy Thirsis, entertain that spirit

Whatever else thou doe, set all the doors

Of thine affections open thereunto.

THIRSIS

Palaemon no. Comfort and I have been

so long time strangers, as that now I fear

To let it in. I know not how t’ acquaint

Myself therewith, being used to converse

With other humours, that affect me best.

Nor doe I love to have mixt company

Whereto I must of force myself apply.

PALAEMON

But Thirsis think that this must have an end,

And more it would approve your worth to make

The same your work than time should make it his.

THIRSIS

End sure it must Palaemon, but with me,

For so I by the Oracle was told

That very day wherein I lost the day

And light of comfort that can never rise

Againe to me, when I the saddest man

That ever breath’d before those altars fell

And there besought to know what was become

Of my dear Silvia, whether dead, or how

Reast from the world, but that I could not learn.

Yet thus much did that voice divine return:

“Goe youth, reserve thyself, the day will come

Thou shalt be happy, and return again”.

“But when shall be that day?” demanded I,

“The day thou diest”, replied the Oracle.

So that you see, it will not be in these

But in th’ Elysian fields, where I shall joy,

The day of death must bring me happiness.

PALAEMON

You may mistake the meaning of those words

Which is not known before it be fulfill’d.

Yield you to what the gods command, if not

Unto your friends desires, reserve yourself

For better days, and think the Oracle

Is not untrue, although not understood.

But howsoever, let it not be said

That Thirsis being a man of so rare parts,

So understanding and discrete, should pine in love

And languish for a silly woman thus,

To be the fable of the vulgar, made

Ascorns , and laught at by inferior wits.

THIRSIS

In love Palaemon? Know you what you say?

Doe you esteem it light to be in love?

How have I been mistaken in the choice

Of such a friend, as I held you to be,

That seems not, or else doth not understand

The noblest portion of humanity,

The worthiest piece of nature set in man?

Ah know that when you mention love, you name

A sacred mystery, a deity,

Not understood of creatures built of mud,

But of the purest and refined clay

Whereto th’ eternal fires their spirits convey.

And for a woman, which you prize so low,

Like men that doe forget whence they are men,

Know her to be th’ especial creature, made

By the Creator of the complement

Of this great Architect, the world to hold

The same together, which would otherwise

Fall all asunder, and is Nature’s chief

Vicegerent upon earth, supplies her state.

And doe you hold it weakness then to love?

And love so excellent a miracle

As is a worthy woman? Ah, then let me

Still be so weak, still let me love and pine

In contemplation of that clean, clear soul,

That made mine see that nothing in the world

Is so supremely beautiful as it.

Think not it was those colours white and red

Laid but on flesh, that could affect me so.

But something else, which thought holds under lock

And hath no key of words to open it.

They are the smallest pieces of the mind

That passe this narrow organ of the voice.

The great remain behind in that vast orb

Of th’ apprehension and are never born.

And therefore, if your judge cannot reach

Unto the understanding of my case,

You doe not well to put yourself into

My jury, to condemn me as you doe.

Let th’ ignorant out of their dullness laugh

At these my sufferings, I will pity them

To have been so ill born, so miscompos’d

As not to know what thing it is to love.

And I to great Apollo here appeal

The sovereign of the Muses, and of all

Well tun’d affections, and to Cinthia bright,

And glorious lady of clear faithfulness,

Who from above look down with blissful beams

Upon our humble groves, and joy the hearts

Of all the world, to see their mutual loves.

They can judge what worthiness there is

In worthy love. Therefore, Palaemon peace,

Unless you did know better what it were.

And this be sure, when as that fire goes out

In man, he is the miserablest thing

On earth, his day-light sets, and is all dark

And dull within, no motions of delight,

But all opprest, lies struggling with the weight

Of worldly cares and this old damon says

Who well had felt what love was in his days.

PALAEMON

Well Thirsis, well, how ever you doe guild

Your passions, to endear them to yourself,

You never shall induce me to believe,

That sicknesses can be of such effect.

And so farewell, until you shall be well.

[3.5]

Medorus, Charinus.

MEDORUS

O Gods, Charinus, what a man is this?

Who ever heard of such a constancy?

Had I but known him in enjoying him,

As now I doe, too late, in losing him,

How blest had been mine age? But ah I was

Unworthy of so great a blessedness.

CHARINUS

You see, Medorus, how no counsel can

Prevail to turn the current of his will,

To make it run in any other course

Then what it doth, so that I see I must

Esteem him irrevocably lost.

But hark, the shepherds’ festivals begin,

Let us from hence, where sadness were a sin.

Here was presented a rural marriage, conducted with this Song:

From the Temple to the board,

From the board unto the Bed,

We conduct your maidenhead

Wishing Hymen to afford

All the pleasures that he can,

Twixt a woman and a man.

[4.1]

Thirsis solus

I thought these simple woods, these gentle trees

Would, in regard I am their daily guest

And harbour underneath their shady roofs,

Not have consented to delude my griefs

And mock my miseries with false reports,

But now I see they will afflict me too.

For as I came by yonder spreading beach

Which often hath the secretary been

To my sad thoughts while I have rested me

(if love had ever rest) under his gentle shade,

I found incarv’d, and fair incaru’d, these words:

Thy Silvia, Thirsis, lives; and is return’d.

Ah me, that any hand would thus add scorn

Unto affliction, and a hand so fair

As this may seem to be, which were more fit,

Me thinks, for good, than to doe injury,

For sure no virtue should be ill employ’d.

And which is more, the name of Silvia was

Carv’d in the self-same kind of character

Which she alive did use, and where with all

Subscrib’d her vows to me, who knows it best,

Which shows the fraud the more and more the wrong.

Therefore, you stars of that high court of heaven

Which do reveal deceits and punish them,

Let not this crime, to counterfeit a hand

To couzin  my desires, escape your doom.

Nor let these riots of intrusion made

Upon my loneness,  by strange company

Afflict me thus, but let me have some rest.

Come then, refresher of all living things,

Soft sleep, come gently, and take truce with these

Oppressors. But come simple and alone,

Without these images of fantasy,

Which hurt me more than thou canst do me good:

Let me not sleep unless I could sleep all.

[4.2]

Palaemon, Thirsis.

Alas, he here hath laid him down to rest,

It were now sin his quiet to molest,

And God forbid I should, I will retire

And leave him, for I know his griefs require

This poor relievement of a little sleep.

THIRSIS

What spirit here haunts me? What no time free?

Ah, is it you Palaemon? Would to God

You would forbear me but a little while

You shew your care of me too much in this

Unseasonable love, scarce kindness is.

PALAEMON

Good Thirsis, I am sorry I should give

The least occasion of disease to you

I will be gone and leave you to your rest.

THIRSIS

Doe good Palaemon, goe your way, farewell,

And yet Palaemon stay, perhaps you may

By charms you have, cause sleep to close mine eyes.

For you were wont, I doe remember well,

To sing me sonnets, which in passion I

Composed in my happier days, when as

Her beams inflam’d my spirits, which now are set.

And if you can remember it, I pray

Sing me the song, which thus begins: “Eyes hide my love”,

Which I did write upon the earnest charge

She gave unto me to conceal our love.

The Song.

Eyes hide my love, and doe not shew

To any but to her my notes,

Who only doth that cipher know,

Wherewith we pass our secret thoughts,

Belie your looks in others sight

And wrong yourselves to doe her right.

PALAEMON

So now he sleeps, or else doth seem to sleep

But howsoever, I will not trouble him.

[4.3]

Clarindo, Thirsis.

[CLARINDO]

See where he lies, whom I so long to see,

Ah my dear Thirsis, take thy quiet rest,

I know thou needst it, sleep thy fill, sweet love

Let nothing trouble thee, be calm oh winds,

Be still you herd, chirp not so loud sweet birds,

Lest you should wake my love, thou gentle bank

That thus art blest to bear so dear a weight,

Be soft unto those dainty limbs of his,

Plie tender grass, and render sweet refresh

Unto his weary senses, whilst he rests.

Oh, could I now but put off this disguise,

With those respects that fetter my desire,

How closely could I neighbour that sweet side?

But stay, he stirs, I fear my heart hath brought

My feet too near and I have wakened him.

THIRSIS

It will not be, sleep is no friend of mine,

Or such a friend, as leaves a man when most

He needs him. See a new assault, who now?

Ah ’t is the boy that was with me erewhiles,

That gentle boy, I am content to speak

With him, he speaks so prettily, so sweet,

And with so good respective modesty,

And much resembles one I knew once well,

Come hither gentle boy, what hast thou there?

CLARINDO

A token sent you from the nymph I serve.

THIRSIS

Keep it my boy, and wear it on thy head.

CLARINDO

The gods forbid, that I, a servant, should

Weare on my head that which my mistress hath

Prepar’d for yours. Sir, I beseech you urge

No more a thing so ill becoming me.

THIRSIS

Nay sure I think, it better will become

Thy head then mine and therefore boy, thou must

Needs put it on.

CLARINDO

I trust your loneness  hath not so

Uncivil’d you, to force a messenger

To doe against good manners, and his will.

THIRSIS

No, good my boy, but I entreat thee now

Let me but put it on, hold still thy head,

It shall not be thy act, but only mine.

Let it alone good boy, for if thou saw’st

How well it did become thee, sure thou wouldst.

Now, canst thou sing my boy some gentle song?

CLARINDO

I cannot sing, but I could weep.

THIRSIS

Weep, why?

CLARINDO

Because I am not as I wish to be.

THIRSIS

Why so are none, be not dipleas’d for this;

And if you cannot sing, tell me some tale

To pass the time.

CLARINDO

That can I doe, did I but know what kind

Of tale you lik’d.

THIRSIS

No merry tale my boy, nor yet too sad,

But mixed, like the tragic comedies.

CLARINDO

Then such a tale I have, and a true tale,

Believe me sir, although not written yet

In any book, but sure it will. I know

some gentle shepherd, mov’d with passion, must

Record it to the world, and well it will

Become the world to understand the same.

And this it is: There was sometimes a nymph,

Isvlia nam’d, and an Arcadian born,

Fair can I not avouch she was, but chaste,

And honest sure, as the event will prove.

Whose mother dying, left her very young

Unto her father’s charge, who carefully

Did breed her up until she came to years

Of womanhood, and then provides a match

Both rich, and young, and fit enough for her.

But she, who to another shepherd had,

Call’d Sirthis, vow’d her love, as unto one

Her heart esteem’d more worthy of her love,

Could not by all her father’s means be wrought

To leave her choice and to forgoe her vow.

THIRSIS

No more could my dear Silvia be from me.

CLARINDO

Which caused much affliction to the both

THIRSIS

And so the self-same cause did unto us.

CLARINDO

This nymph one day, surcharg’d with love and grief,

Which commonly (the more the pity) dwell

As inmates both together, walking forth

With other maids to fish upon the shore,

Estrays apart and leaves her company

To entertain herself with her own thoughts

And wanders on so far, and out of sight,

As she at length was suddenly surpriz’d

By pirates, who lay lurking underneath

Those hollow rocks, expecting there some prize.

And notwithstanding all her piteous cries,

Entreaty, tears, and prays, those fierce men

Rent hair, and veil, and carried her by force

Into their ship, which in a little creek

Hard by, at anchor lay, and presently hoys’d sail,

And so away.

THIRSIS    Rent hair and veil? And so

Both hair and veil of Silvia I found rent,

Which here I keep with me. But now alas

What did she? What became of her my boy?

CLARINDO

When she was thus in shipp’d, and woefully

Had cast her eyes about to view that hell

Of horror, whereinto she was so suddenly

Implung’d, she spies a woman sitting with a child

sucking her breast, which was the captain’s wife.

To her she creeps, down at her feet she lies:

O woman, if that name of woman may

Move you to pity, pity a poor maid,

The most distressed soul that ever breath’d.

And save me from the hands of these fierce men,

Let me not be defil’d, and made unclean,

Dear woman now, and I will be to you

The faithfull’st slave that ever mistress serv’d;

Never poor soul shall be more dutiful,

To doe what ever you command, than I.

No toil will I refuse so that I may

Keep this poor body clean and undeflowr’d,

Which is all I will ever seek. For know

It is not fear of death lays me thus low,

But of that stain will make my death to blush”.

THIRSIS

What, would not all this move the woman’s heart?

CLARINDO

All this would nothing move the woman’s heart,

Whom yet she would not leave, but still besought:

“Oh woman, by that infant at your breast,

And by the pains it cost you in the birth,

Save me, as ever you desire to have

Your babe to joy and prosper in the world.

Which will the better prosper sure, if you

Shall mercy show, which is with mercy paid”.

Then kisses she her feet, then kisses too

The infant’s feet, and “oh sweet babe” said she

“Could’st thou but to thy mother speak for me

And crave her to have pity on my case,

Thou mightst perhaps prevail with her so much

Although I cannot; child, ah, could’st thou speak”.

The infant, whether by her touching it

Or by instinct of nature, seeing her weep,

Looks earnestly upon her, and then looks

Upon the mother, then on her again,

And then it cries, and then on either looks.

Which she perceiving, “blessed child”, said she,

“Although thou canst not speak, yet do’st thou cry

Unto thy mother for me. Heare thy childe

Dear mother, it’s for me it cries,

It’s all the speech it hath, accept those cries,

Save me at his request from being defiled,

Lett pity move thee, that thus moves thy child”.

The woman, though by birth and custom rude

Yet having veins of nature, could not be

But pierceable, did feel at length the point

Of pity, enter so, as out gusht tears

(Not usual to stern eyes) and she besought

Her husband, to bestow on her that prize,

With safeguard of her body, at her will.

The captain seeing his wife, the child, the nymph,

All crying to him in this piteous sort,

Felt his rough nature shaken too, and grants

His wife’s request, and seals his grant with tears.

And so they wept all four for company,

And some beholders stood not with dry eyes,

Such passion wrought the passion of their prize.

THIRSIS

In troth my boy, and even thy telling it

Moves me likewise, thou doost so feelingly

Report the same, as if thou hadst been by.

But I imagine now how this poor nymph

When she receiv’d that doom, was comforted?

CLARINDO

Sir, never was there pardon, that did take

Condemned from the block, more joyful than

This grant to her. For all her misery

Seem’d nothing to the comfort she receiv’d

By being thus saved from impurity

And from the woman’s feet she would not part,

Nor trust her hand to be without some hold

Of her, or of the child, so long as she remain’d

Within the ship, which in few days arrives

At Alexandria, whence these pirates were,

And there this woeful maid for two years space

Did serve, and truly serve this captain’s wife,

Who would not lose the benefit of her

Attendance for all her profit otherwise.

But daring not in such a place as that

To trust herself in woman’s habit, crav’d

That she might be apparelled like a boy,

And so she was, and as a boy she serv’d.

THIRSIS

And two years ’t is, since I my Silvia lost.

CLARINDO

At two years end, her mistress sends her forth

Unto the port for some commodities,

Which whilst she sought for, going up and down

She heard some merchant men of Corinth talk,

Who spake that language the Arcadians did,

And were next neighbours of one continent.

To them all rapt with passion, down she kneels,

Tells them she was a poor distressed boy,

Borne in Arcadia, and by pirates took

And made a slave in Egypt, and besought

Them, as they fathers were of children, or

Did hold their native country dear, they would

Take pity on her, and relieve her youth

From that sad servitude wherein she liv’d,

For which she hop’d that she had friends alive

Would thank them one day, and reward them too,

If not, yet that, she knew the heavens would doe.

The merchants mov’d with pity of her case,

Being ready to depart, took her with them,

And landed her upon her country coast,

Where when she found herself, she prostrate falls,

Kisses the ground, thanks gives unto the gods,

Thanks them who had been her deliverers.

And on she trudges through the desert woods,

Climbs over craggy rocks, and mountains steep,

Wades thorough rivers, struggles thorough bogs,

Sustain’d only by the force of love,

Until she came unto the native plains,

Unto the fields, where first she drew her breath.

There lifts she up her eyes, salutes the air,

Salutes the trees, the bushes, flowers, and all:

And “oh dear Sirthis, here I am”, said she,

“Here, notwithstanding all my miseries.

I am the same I was to thee, a pure,

A chaste, and spotless maid, oh that I may

Find thee the man, thou didst profess to be”.

THIRSIS

Or else no man, for boy who truly loves,

Must ever so, that die will never out

And who but would love truly such a soul?

CLARINDO

But now, the better to have notice how

The state of things then stood, and not in haste

To cast herself on new incumbrances,

She kept her habit still, and put herself

To serve a nymph, of whom she had made choice

Till time were fitting to reveal herself.

THIRSIS

This may be Silvia’s case, this may be she,

But it is not, let me consider well:

The teller and the circumstance agree.

[4.3] 

Montanus, Thirsis, Chorus.

[MONTANUS]

Ah sirrha, have I found you? Are you here

You princock  boy? And with your garland on?

Doth this attire become your peevish head?

Come, I must teach you better manners, boy.

He stabs Clarindo, and rashes off his garland.

So Phillis, I have done my task, and here

I bring the trophy to confirm the same.

THIRSIS

Ah monster man, vile wretch, what hast thou done?

Alas, in what a strait am I engaged here?

If I pursue revenge, l leave to save.

Help, help, you gentle swains, if any now be near,

Help, help, ah hark even Echo helps me cry

CHORUS

What means this outcry? Sure some savage beast

Disturbs our herds, or else some wolf hath seas’d

Upon a lamb. 

THIRSIS     A worse thing than a wolf,

More bloody than a beast, hath murthered here

A gentler creature then a lamb, therefore

Good swains pursue, pursue the homicide.

That ugly wretch, Montanus, who hath stab’d

This silly creature here, at unawares.

CHORUS

Montanus? Why, we met him but even now,

Deckt with a garland, grumbling to himself,

We will attach that villain presently.

Come sirs, make haste, and let us after him.

[4.4]

Palaemon, Thirsis.

[PALAEMON]

Alas, what accident is here falne  out?

My dear friend Thirsis, how comes this to pass?

THIRSIS

That monster man Montanus, here hath stab’d

A harmless youth, in message sent to me.

Now good Palaemon help me hold him up,

And see if that we can recover him.

PALAEMON

It may be Thirsis, more his fear than hurt,

Stay him a while, and I will haste and send

For Lamia, who with ointments, oil, and herbs

If any help remain, will help him sure.

THIRSIS

Do good Palaemon, make what haste you may

Seek out for help, and be not long away.

Alas, sweet boy, that thou should’st ever have

So hard misfortune, coming unto me,

And end thy tale with this sad tragedy,

That tale which well resembled Silvia’s case,

Which thou resembles, for such brows had she.

Such a proportion’d face, and such a neck.

What have we here, the mole of Silvia too?

What and her breasts? What? And her hair? What all?

All Silvia? Yes, all Silvia, and all dead.

And art thou thus return’d again to me?

Art thou thyself, that strange delivered nymph?

And didst thou come to tell me thine escape

From death to die before me? Had I not

Enough to doe, to wail reported harms

But thou must come to bleed within my arms?

Was not one death sufficient for my griefs

But that thou must die twice? Why thou wert dead

To me before. Why? Must thou die again?

Ah, better had it been still to be lost

Than thus to have been found, yet better found

Though thus, then so lost as was thought before.

For howsoever, now I have thee yet

Though in the saddest fashion that may be.

Yet Silvia now I have thee, and will I

No more for ever part with thee again,

And we this benefit shall have thereby

Though fate would not permit us both to have

One bed, yet Silvia we shall have one grave.

And that is something, and much more then I

Expected ever could have come to pass.

And sure the gods but only sent thee thus

To fetch me, and to take me hence with thee;

And Silvia so thou shalt. I ready am

T’ accompany thy soul, and that with speed.

The strings I feel, are all dissolv’d, that hold

This woeful heart, reserv’d it seems for this,

And well reserv’d, for this so dear an end.

[4.5]

Chorus, Palaemon.

[CHORUS]

So, we have took the villain, and him bound

Fast to an oak as rugged as himself.

And there he stares and gapes in th’ air, and raves

Like a wild beast, that’s taken in the toil,

And so he shall remain, till time we see

What will become of this his savage act.

PALAEMON

Cheer Thirsis, Lamia will come presently

And bring the best preservatives she hath.

What now? Who lies discovered here? Ay me,

A woman dead? Is this that boy transform’d?

Why, this is Silvia, oh good Thirsis how

Comes this to pass? Friend Thirsis, Thirsis speak.

Good Thirsis tell me. Out alas he sownes ,

As well as she, and both seem gone alike.

Come gentle herdsmen, come and carry them

To yonder sheep-cote quickly, that we may

(If possible) recover them again.

If not perform those rites that appertain

Unto so rare a couple. Come my friends, make haste.

The fourth Song of the Chorus.

QUESTION

Were ever chaste and honest hearts

Expos’d unto so great distresses?

ANSWER

Yes, they that act the worthiest parts,

Most commonly have worst successes.

Great fortunes follow not the best,

It’s virtue that is most distresst.

Then fortune why doe we admire

The glory of thy great excesses?

Since by thee what men acquire

Thy work and not their worths expresses.

Nor dost thou raise them for their good,

But t’ have their ills more understood.

[5.1]

Chorus, Palaemon.

[CHORUS]

Did ever yet Arcadia hear before

Of two so worthy lovers, as we find

Thirsis and Silvia were? Or ever had

Clear truth and simple constant honesty,

So lamentable an event as this?

But here comes forth Palaemon, we shall now

Learn all of him, what hath been done within.

PALAEMON

Goe Pollio, summon all th’ Arcadia youth

Here, round about, and will them to prepare

To celebrate with all delights they can

This joyful hour, that hath restor’d to us

The worthiest pair of hearts that ever were,

Will them to show the height of musiques art,

And all the strains of cunning they can show,

That we may make these rocks and hills about,

Ring with the echo of redoubled notes.

And will Charinus and Medorus too,

The aged parents of this worthy pair,

To come with speed, whose joy, good souls, will be

More than their speed, and yet their speed I know,

Will be beyond th’ allowance of their years,

When they shall understand this happy news.

And summon likewise all the train of nymphs

That glorify our plains, and all that can

Give honour to this day.

Goe Pollio hast away, and as you goe

Unbind Montanus that rude savage swain.

And though he be unworthy to be here,

Yet let him come. He hath been in his days

Held a good fellow, howsoever now

His rage and love transported him in this.

CHORUS

Palaemon, we are glad to see you thus

Delightful, now we hope there is good newes.

PALAEMON

Good news my friends, and I will tell it you,

Silvia and Thirsis being to my cottage brought,

The skilful Lamia comes and searcht the wound

Which Silvia had receiv’d of this rude swain,

And finding it not deadly she applied

Those remedies she knew of best effect.

And binds it up, and pours into her mouth

Such cordial waters as revive the spirits,

And so much wrought, as she at length perceiv’d

Life was not quite gone out, but lay opprest.

With like endeavours we on Thirsis work,

And minist’red like cordials unto him,

At length we might hear Silvia fetch a groan,

And there withal Thirsis perceiv’d to move,

Then Thirsis set a groan, and Silvia mov’d

As if their lives were made both of one piece.

Whereat we joy’d, and then remov’d and set

Each before other, and held up their heads,

And chaf’d their temples, rub’d and stroak’d their cheeks

Wherewith first Silvia casts up her dimm eyes,

And presently did Thirsis lift up his.

And then again they both together sigh’d,

And each on other fixt an unseeing eye:

For yet t’was scarce the twilight of their new

Returning day, out of the night of death.

And though they saw, they did not yet perceive

Each other, and yet both turn’d to one point

As toucht alike, and held their looks direct.

At length we might perceive, as life began

T’ appear and make the morning in their eyes,

Their beams were clearer, and their opener looks

Did show as if they took some little note

Of each the other, yet not so as they

Could thoroughly discern who themselves were.

And then we took and join’d their hands in one,

And held them so a while, until we felt

How even each other’s touch, the motion gave

Unto their feeling, and they trembling wrung

Their hands together, and so held them lockt,

Lookt still upon each other, but no words at all.

Then we call’d out to Thirsis: “Thirsis look,

It is thy Silvia thou here holdst, she is

Return’d reviv’d, and safe! Silvia, behold thou hast

Thy Thirsis, and shalt ever have him thine”.

Then did we set them both upon their feet

And there they stood in act, even as before

Looking upon each other hand in hand,

At last we saw a blushing red appear

In both their cheeks, which sense sent as a lamp

To light their understanding. And forthwith

The tears gusht forth their eyes, which hind’red them

A while from seeing each other, till they had

Cleared them again. And then, as if new wak’d

From out a fearful dream, they stand and doubt

Whether they were awake indeed, or else

Still in a dream, distrusting their own eyes.

Their long endured miseries would not

Let them believe their sudden happiness,

Although they saw it, till with much ado

They had confirm’d their credit, and had kisst

Each other and embrac’d, and kisst again,

And yet still dumb, their joy now seem’d to be

Too busy with their thoughts, t’ allow them words.

And then they walkt a little, then stood still,

Then walkt again, and still held other fast

As if they fear’d they should be lost again.

And when at last they spake, it was but thus,

“O Silvia!”, and “O Thirsis!”, and there stopt.

We, lest our sight and presence (being there

So many) hinder might the passage of

Their modest, simple, and unpractis’d love,

Came all our way, and only Lamia left

Whose spirit, and that sufficient skill she hath

Will serve no doubt, to see they shall doe well.

CHORUS

Well may they do dear couple, who have thus

Grac’d our Arcadia with their faithfulness.

[5.2]

Phillis, Lidia, Cloris.

[PHILLIS]

What shall we now do Lidia? Now am I

Utterly sham’d, this youth turn’d woman is

Clarindo, Silvia is become, how now?

Can I for ever look on her again?

Or come in any company for shame?

Now must I needs be made a common jest

And laughing stock to everyone that shall

But hear how grossly I behav’d myself.

LIDIA

Faith Phillis as it is falne out, your case

Is very crazy, and to make it whole

There is no way but even to laugh it out

And set as good a face as you can doe

Upon the matter, and say thus: how you

Knew well enough it was no man whom you

Affected so, who never could love man,

Nor ever would, and that by mere instinct

And sympathy of sex you fancied him.

So put it off, and turn it to a jest

PHILLIS

That shall I never doe but ever blush

At her, to think what she will think of me,

Who did bewray myself so foolishly.

LIDIA

Are you here Cloris, you are blest today

For being mistress unto such a boy,

You may rejoice that ever this fell out.

CLORIS

Rejoice? Ah Lidia, never was there nymph

Had more occasion to be sad then I,

For I am quite undone and sham’d hereby.

For I employ’d this my supposed boy

In message unto Thirsis, whom I lov’d

I must confess, more dearly than my life,

And told him all the secrets of my heart.

And therefore, with what face can ever I

Look upon them that know thus much by me?

No, Lidia, I will now take Thirsis course:

Hide me for ever in these desert woods,

And never come in company again;

They shall not laugh at me in their great joys.

LIDIA

But Cloris, I would laugh with them, were I as you,

And how soever felt myself within,

Yet would I seem be otherwise without.

Cannot you say, that you knew well enough

How it was Silvia that you entertain’d,

Although you would not seem to take such note,

And thereupon employ’d her in that sort

To Thirsis, knowing who it was would give

To him the greatest comfort upon earth.

And thus, faire Nymphs you fitly may excuse

These simple slips, and know that they shall still

Have crosses with their piles, who thus doe play

Their fortunes with their loves, as you two did.

But you must frame your countenance thereto

And look with other faces then their own.

As many else doe here, who in their parts

set shining looks upon their cloudy hearts,

And let us mix us with this company

That here appears with mirth and jollity.

The Song of the fifth Chorus.

Who ever saw so faire a sight,

Love and virtue met aright,

And that wonder Constancy,

Like a comet to the eye

Seldom ever seen so bright?

Sound out aloud so rare a thing,

That all the hills and vales may ring.

Look, Lovers look, with passion see,

If that any such there be,

As there cannot but be such

Who doe feel that noble touch

In this glorious company,

sound out aloud, &c.

FINIS.

Pag 51. line 24 & page 54. line 28. for loveness, read loneness. Ib. p. 54. l. 6. for descire r. desire p. 59. l. 23 put out, all. p. 62. l 7. at the verses end, add, help. p. 63. l. 6. r. oils.