Del. Stay, hold thy hand: she lives—thy Sylvia lives
To make thee happy, if thou wilt go to her.
To make thee happy, if thou wilt go to her.
Thyr. You're habited like those I've seen at court;
And courtesy, they say, is ever there,
Yet mingled with deceit. If you do mean
T' abuse me for your sport, this way will prove
Too sad to raise mirth out of. There's no ill
That I have done to you or any else,
Unless my constancy be here a sin.
And courtesy, they say, is ever there,
Yet mingled with deceit. If you do mean
T' abuse me for your sport, this way will prove
Too sad to raise mirth out of. There's no ill
That I have done to you or any else,
Unless my constancy be here a sin.
Del. His griefs have made him wild. [Aside.
I have no time
Left me to use persuasions, or to make
This truth apparent to you; on my word,
You shall be safe; and if you dare believe me,
I'll bring you where your love is; follow me.
I have no time
Left me to use persuasions, or to make
This truth apparent to you; on my word,
You shall be safe; and if you dare believe me,
I'll bring you where your love is; follow me.
Thyr. Why should I doubt, or fear to go with her?
Ill does he call for physic whom the law
Has doom'd to die. There's no condition
Can prove worse to me than my present one.
Pray, lead me where you please; I'm sure of this:
To one that's desperate no way's amiss. [Exeunt.
Ill does he call for physic whom the law
Has doom'd to die. There's no condition
Can prove worse to me than my present one.
Pray, lead me where you please; I'm sure of this:
To one that's desperate no way's amiss. [Exeunt.
SCENA II.
Euarchus, Eubulus, Cleander, Attendants.
All leave the room. Eubulus, I'm resolv'd
To hold an easier hand over my daughter
Than I was wont: therefore I sent Cleander
To bring her to my presence. Though she have
Wrong'd her great birth and breeding by her follies,
Yet I consider that she is my daughter,
And this restraint cannot but harden her
In her fond resolutions. Have you sought
By all the means you can to sift the cause
Of her departure?
To hold an easier hand over my daughter
Than I was wont: therefore I sent Cleander
To bring her to my presence. Though she have
Wrong'd her great birth and breeding by her follies,
Yet I consider that she is my daughter,
And this restraint cannot but harden her
In her fond resolutions. Have you sought
By all the means you can to sift the cause
Of her departure?
Eub. Sir, I have tried
By all the ways that fit a subject, to
Inquire a truth of one that is his princess.
By all the ways that fit a subject, to
Inquire a truth of one that is his princess.
Eub. Nothing more
Than what my son Cleander did before.
Than what my son Cleander did before.
Euar. I have heard his relation: but [I] wonder
How for a whole month's time she should abide
Within our confines, when so great a search
Through all our countries, and loud proclamations,
Were made for her recovery.
How for a whole month's time she should abide
Within our confines, when so great a search
Through all our countries, and loud proclamations,
Were made for her recovery.
Eub. 'Tis true.
She herein was ingenuous, and confess'd
That she foresaw what search would be made for her:
Therefore with some about her she had plotted
To hire a bark that might convey her hence
In a disguise to Smyrna, where she stay'd
Till time did fit her, that with safety
She might return in habit of a nymph
Unto the place where then Cleander found her:
But why she left the court she will not tell.
She herein was ingenuous, and confess'd
That she foresaw what search would be made for her:
Therefore with some about her she had plotted
To hire a bark that might convey her hence
In a disguise to Smyrna, where she stay'd
Till time did fit her, that with safety
She might return in habit of a nymph
Unto the place where then Cleander found her:
But why she left the court she will not tell.
Euar. I will not force her to't: some little time
Perhaps may make discovery of that secret.
But unto thee, my faithful councillor
(As unto one my heart hath still been open),
I will discover what my purpose is
In sending for these shepherds to my court.
Perhaps may make discovery of that secret.
But unto thee, my faithful councillor
(As unto one my heart hath still been open),
I will discover what my purpose is
In sending for these shepherds to my court.
Eub. I should believe they're sent for to delight
Your majesty, as they were wont.
Your majesty, as they were wont.
Euar. No, Eubulus;
But for a greater end: I fear my daughter,
And therefore I have sent for her to see
These sports with purpose to observe her looks.
For I suspect she loves some shepherd there.
But for a greater end: I fear my daughter,
And therefore I have sent for her to see
These sports with purpose to observe her looks.
For I suspect she loves some shepherd there.
Eub. It cannot be: she will not stain her birth
With such ignoble love; yet I confess,
Revolving all the causes of her strange
Departure, I could fix on none but that.
With such ignoble love; yet I confess,
Revolving all the causes of her strange
Departure, I could fix on none but that.
Euar. Well, if she do so, I will let her forth—
Forth of my blood; and whosoe'er he be
Whose fortune mark'd him out to be the object
Of this her love, shall find Ixion's fate,
He shall embrace a shadow. By my life,
They both shall die.
Forth of my blood; and whosoe'er he be
Whose fortune mark'd him out to be the object
Of this her love, shall find Ixion's fate,
He shall embrace a shadow. By my life,
They both shall die.
Eub. O my gracious lord,
Remember she's your daughter!
Remember she's your daughter!
Euar. Ay, thou still
Dost plead for her, but yet am I her king
As well as father; private men respect
Their profits and their private interests
Of kindred, but the actions of a king
To honour and renown must be directed:
Consider that, and then thou wilt forget her.
Dost plead for her, but yet am I her king
As well as father; private men respect
Their profits and their private interests
Of kindred, but the actions of a king
To honour and renown must be directed:
Consider that, and then thou wilt forget her.
Enter Cleander.
Cleander, welcome! how does Calligone?
Is she not glad to come unto our presence?
Why dost not answer? Art thou frighted, man?
Is she not glad to come unto our presence?
Why dost not answer? Art thou frighted, man?
Cle. I know not how to answer anything,
Unless your majesty will sign my pardon.
Unless your majesty will sign my pardon.
Euar. Why, what's the matter? speak, and speak it freely.
Cle. Then know, great sovereign, that, when I went
As full of joy as speed, with your glad message,
I found the princess——
As full of joy as speed, with your glad message,
I found the princess——
Euar. What, not dead, I hope?
Cle. Dead to her honour.
Euar. Ha!
Cle. In short, my lord,
I found her walking in the garden with
A shepherd—more of him I cannot tell;
But she was habited in that attire
She wore, when from the woods I brought her home.
I slipp'd away, not being seen by them,
And if you please to go, perhaps, great sir,
You still may find them there.
I found her walking in the garden with
A shepherd—more of him I cannot tell;
But she was habited in that attire
She wore, when from the woods I brought her home.
I slipp'd away, not being seen by them,
And if you please to go, perhaps, great sir,
You still may find them there.
Euar. How now, Eubulus,
Are my presages true? Shall I then sleep
With this disgrace, and let my neighbour princes
Mock at my humble fortunes, when they hear
The daughter of Euarchus match'd herself
With a base shepherd? Go, Eubulus, quickly:
Here take my signet; let this be your warrant
To put them both to death.
Are my presages true? Shall I then sleep
With this disgrace, and let my neighbour princes
Mock at my humble fortunes, when they hear
The daughter of Euarchus match'd herself
With a base shepherd? Go, Eubulus, quickly:
Here take my signet; let this be your warrant
To put them both to death.
Eub. How! both, my lord?
Euar. Ay, both.
Eub. Your daughter too?
Euar. Why do you question me?
Have I not said they both shall die: despatch.
Let me not see thee till they both be dead. [Exit.
Have I not said they both shall die: despatch.
Let me not see thee till they both be dead. [Exit.
Eub. What hast thou done! thou rash, inhumane boy?
Depriv'd thy father of a child, thyself
Of thine own sister, whom but now thou knew'st?
Well may the king take that dear life away
Which he did never give: I will go tell him
I am her father: but I lose my life
If I do that, as guilty of a treason.
Go, murderer, hadst thou no pity in thee!
Depriv'd thy father of a child, thyself
Of thine own sister, whom but now thou knew'st?
Well may the king take that dear life away
Which he did never give: I will go tell him
I am her father: but I lose my life
If I do that, as guilty of a treason.
Go, murderer, hadst thou no pity in thee!
Cle. Sir, I do feel so much grief within me
For this my act that, if my blood will serve
To save her life, I'll make no price of it:
Yet could I not imagine that the king
Would have been so enrag'd; or if he would,
I had no time to think of it before.
For this my act that, if my blood will serve
To save her life, I'll make no price of it:
Yet could I not imagine that the king
Would have been so enrag'd; or if he would,
I had no time to think of it before.
Eub. No time! who bid thee hasten to the ruin
Of thy poor father and thy family?
The messages which come to do us hurt
Are speedy; but the good come slowly on.
Of thy poor father and thy family?
The messages which come to do us hurt
Are speedy; but the good come slowly on.
Cle. But, sir, remember what a strait we're in:
It will concern us to invent some way
To save my sister, though the shepherd die;
He will deserve it for his bold attempt.
It will concern us to invent some way
To save my sister, though the shepherd die;
He will deserve it for his bold attempt.
Eub. Go, take thy way, whither thou wilt, thyself;
That way is best which leads me to my grave. [Exit.
That way is best which leads me to my grave. [Exit.
Cle. What luck is this? This is more haste than speed:
I am resolv'd, though my life lie at stake,
To stand the fury of th' enraged king:
Who knows but he may be as sorry for
His sudden act, as I for mine. 'Tis here
To save her, though it cost her lover dear. [Exeunt.
I am resolv'd, though my life lie at stake,
To stand the fury of th' enraged king:
Who knows but he may be as sorry for
His sudden act, as I for mine. 'Tis here
To save her, though it cost her lover dear. [Exeunt.
SCENA III.
Sylvia, Thyrsis.
Nay, stay a little, Thyrsis; we are safe.
My wary keepers now are with the king.
My wary keepers now are with the king.
Thyr. Madam, for my poor self I do not fear;
But when I think on you, and how your name
And state, that is so eminent, must needs
Receive a certain scandal and foul blot
If we be seen together, blame me not,
Though I do fear or doubt. What cruel fate,
Angry with men, that gave us hearts alike
And fortunes so asunder? You're a cedar,
I a poor shrub, that may look up unto you
With adoration, but ne'er reach your height.
But when I think on you, and how your name
And state, that is so eminent, must needs
Receive a certain scandal and foul blot
If we be seen together, blame me not,
Though I do fear or doubt. What cruel fate,
Angry with men, that gave us hearts alike
And fortunes so asunder? You're a cedar,
I a poor shrub, that may look up unto you
With adoration, but ne'er reach your height.
Syl. But, Thyrsis, I do love you. Love and death
Do not much differ; they make all things equal:
The monuments of kings may show for them
What they have been; but look upon their dust—
The colour and the weight of theirs and beggars'
You'll find the same: and if, 'mongst living men,
Nature has printed in the face of many
The characters of nobleness and worth,
Whose fortune envies them a worthy place
In birth or honour, when the greatest men,
Whom she has courted, bear the marks of slaves,
Love (sure,) will look on those, and lay aside
The accidents of wealth and noble blood,
And in our thoughts will equal them with kings.
Do not much differ; they make all things equal:
The monuments of kings may show for them
What they have been; but look upon their dust—
The colour and the weight of theirs and beggars'
You'll find the same: and if, 'mongst living men,
Nature has printed in the face of many
The characters of nobleness and worth,
Whose fortune envies them a worthy place
In birth or honour, when the greatest men,
Whom she has courted, bear the marks of slaves,
Love (sure,) will look on those, and lay aside
The accidents of wealth and noble blood,
And in our thoughts will equal them with kings.
Thyr. 'Tis true, divinest lady, that the souls
Of all men are alike, of the same substance,
By the same Maker into all infus'd;
But yet the several matters which they work on—
How different they are, I need not tell you.
And as these outward organs give our souls
Or more or less room, as they are contriv'd,
To show their lustre, so again comes fortune
And darkens them, to whom the gods have given
A soul divine and body capable
Of that divinity and excellence.
But 'tis the order of the Fates, whose causes
We must not look into. But you, dear madam,
Nature and fortune have conspir'd to make
The happiest alive.
Of all men are alike, of the same substance,
By the same Maker into all infus'd;
But yet the several matters which they work on—
How different they are, I need not tell you.
And as these outward organs give our souls
Or more or less room, as they are contriv'd,
To show their lustre, so again comes fortune
And darkens them, to whom the gods have given
A soul divine and body capable
Of that divinity and excellence.
But 'tis the order of the Fates, whose causes
We must not look into. But you, dear madam,
Nature and fortune have conspir'd to make
The happiest alive.
Syl. Ah me most wretched!
What pleasure can there be in highest state,
Which is so cross'd in love—the greatest good
The gods can tell how to bestow on men?
What pleasure can there be in highest state,
Which is so cross'd in love—the greatest good
The gods can tell how to bestow on men?
Thyr. Yet some do reckon it the greatest ill,
A passion of the mind, form'd in the fancy,
And bred to be the worst disease of reason.
A passion of the mind, form'd in the fancy,
And bred to be the worst disease of reason.
Syl. They that think so are such as love excludes:
Men full of age or foul deformity.
No, Thyrsis, let not us profane that deity:
Love is divine, the seed of everything,
The cause why now we live, and all the world.
Men full of age or foul deformity.
No, Thyrsis, let not us profane that deity:
Love is divine, the seed of everything,
The cause why now we live, and all the world.
Thyr. Love is divine, for if religion
Binds us to love, the gods, who never yet
Reveal'd themselves in anything to us
But their bright images, the fairest creatures
Who are our daily objects; loving them,
We exercise religion: let us not
Be scrupulous or fear; the gods have care
Of us and of our piety.
Binds us to love, the gods, who never yet
Reveal'd themselves in anything to us
But their bright images, the fairest creatures
Who are our daily objects; loving them,
We exercise religion: let us not
Be scrupulous or fear; the gods have care
Of us and of our piety.
Syl. But take heed:
We cannot be too wary. Many things
Oppose our wills; yet, if you think it fit,
And this night's silence will so favour us,
We'll go together: if we quit this country,
It is no matter: all the world to me
Will be Arcadia, if I may enjoy
Thy company, my love.
We cannot be too wary. Many things
Oppose our wills; yet, if you think it fit,
And this night's silence will so favour us,
We'll go together: if we quit this country,
It is no matter: all the world to me
Will be Arcadia, if I may enjoy
Thy company, my love.
Thyr. No, Sylvia—
Pardon me, dear, if still I call you so—
Enjoy your fortunes; think how much your honour
Must suffer in this act! For me, I find,
It is enough that I have ever lov'd you:
Now let me, at the light of your bright eye,
Burn like the bird whose fires renew her nest;
I shall leave you behind me to the world,
The Phœnix of true love and constancy:
Nor is that bird more glorious in her flames,
Than I shall be in mine, though they consume me.
Pardon me, dear, if still I call you so—
Enjoy your fortunes; think how much your honour
Must suffer in this act! For me, I find,
It is enough that I have ever lov'd you:
Now let me, at the light of your bright eye,
Burn like the bird whose fires renew her nest;
I shall leave you behind me to the world,
The Phœnix of true love and constancy:
Nor is that bird more glorious in her flames,
Than I shall be in mine, though they consume me.
Syl. It must not be; for know, my dearest shepherd,
I shall not tell one minute after thee;
I find my soul so link'd to thine, that death
Cannot divide us.
I shall not tell one minute after thee;
I find my soul so link'd to thine, that death
Cannot divide us.
Thyr. What then shall we do?
Shall we resolve to live thus, till we gaze
Our eyes out first, and then lose all our senses
In their succession? Shall we strive to leave
Our souls breath'd forth upon each other's lips?
Come, let us practise: this our envious fates
Cannot deny us.
Shall we resolve to live thus, till we gaze
Our eyes out first, and then lose all our senses
In their succession? Shall we strive to leave
Our souls breath'd forth upon each other's lips?
Come, let us practise: this our envious fates
Cannot deny us.
Enter Cleander.
Cle. What a sight were this,
To meet her father? This would make him mad
Indeed, and execute his rage himself.
Madam, your father's here!
To meet her father? This would make him mad
Indeed, and execute his rage himself.
Madam, your father's here!
Syl. Ha, Delia!
Cleander, is it thou? then I'm betray'd
The second time; but must thy fortune make thee
The instrument of my undoing still?
Cleander, is it thou? then I'm betray'd
The second time; but must thy fortune make thee
The instrument of my undoing still?
Cle. Shepherd, I will not honour thee so much
As to inquire thy name: thou hast done that
Thou wilt pay dear for, and I hope thy death
Will take away the blot of this disgrace
Th' hast laid upon the princess.
As to inquire thy name: thou hast done that
Thou wilt pay dear for, and I hope thy death
Will take away the blot of this disgrace
Th' hast laid upon the princess.
Thyr. If you do this,
You'll make me happy: it was this I look'd for,
My trivial acts of life this of my death
Will recompense with glory; I shall die
To save my princess, and what's more, to save
The life of her life, her unspotted honour.
Bless'd lady, though you are as innocent
And chaste as purest virgins that have yet
Seen nothing in a dream to warm their blood,
Yet the malicious world, the censuring people,
That haste to cast dirt on the fairest things,
Will hardly spare you, if it once be known
That we were here together. As for me,
My life is nothing but variety
Of grief and troubles, which with constancy
I have borne yet; 'tis time that now I die,
Before I do accuse the gods, that have
Brought me to this, and so pull on my death
A punishment. Will you be merciful,
And end me quickly?
You'll make me happy: it was this I look'd for,
My trivial acts of life this of my death
Will recompense with glory; I shall die
To save my princess, and what's more, to save
The life of her life, her unspotted honour.
Bless'd lady, though you are as innocent
And chaste as purest virgins that have yet
Seen nothing in a dream to warm their blood,
Yet the malicious world, the censuring people,
That haste to cast dirt on the fairest things,
Will hardly spare you, if it once be known
That we were here together. As for me,
My life is nothing but variety
Of grief and troubles, which with constancy
I have borne yet; 'tis time that now I die,
Before I do accuse the gods, that have
Brought me to this, and so pull on my death
A punishment. Will you be merciful,
And end me quickly?
Cle. Shepherd, know for this
Thy resolution, which in noble bloods
I scarce have found, I willingly would grant
What thou desir'st. But something must be known
Before that time either from you or you.
Thy resolution, which in noble bloods
I scarce have found, I willingly would grant
What thou desir'st. But something must be known
Before that time either from you or you.
Syl. I know, Cleander, it is me you aim at:
I do confess, this shepherd is my love;
For his sake I did leave the court and thee,
Unworthy as thou art to be his rival.
I do confess, this shepherd is my love;
For his sake I did leave the court and thee,
Unworthy as thou art to be his rival.
Cle. Madam, my duty bids me speak to you,
Not as a lover now, but as you are
My princess and the daughter of my king.
I would not for the world have those desires
Which I had then; for, sure, my bolder love
Would have transgress'd the limits of all duty,
And would have dar'd to tell you that this shepherd
Was not a match for great Arcadia's heir,
Nor yet one fit for my competitor.
'Tis not his outward feature—which how fair
It is, I do not question—that can make him
Noble or wise; whereas my birth, deriv'd
From ancient kings, and years not far unsuiting
Those of your own—to these my education,
To you well known, perhaps might make me worthy
Of being your servant.
Not as a lover now, but as you are
My princess and the daughter of my king.
I would not for the world have those desires
Which I had then; for, sure, my bolder love
Would have transgress'd the limits of all duty,
And would have dar'd to tell you that this shepherd
Was not a match for great Arcadia's heir,
Nor yet one fit for my competitor.
'Tis not his outward feature—which how fair
It is, I do not question—that can make him
Noble or wise; whereas my birth, deriv'd
From ancient kings, and years not far unsuiting
Those of your own—to these my education,
To you well known, perhaps might make me worthy
Of being your servant.
Syl. Can'st thou look on this,
This piece, Cleander, and not blush to boast
Thy follies thus, seeking to take away
From his full virtue? If but this one act
Of his appear unto the world, as now
It shall; for I'll not shame to publish him,
Though I die for it: will it not devour
Thy empty glories and thy puff'd-up nothings
And (like a grave) will bury all thy honours?
Do, take his life, and glory in that act;
But, be thou sure, in him thou shalt kill two.
This piece, Cleander, and not blush to boast
Thy follies thus, seeking to take away
From his full virtue? If but this one act
Of his appear unto the world, as now
It shall; for I'll not shame to publish him,
Though I die for it: will it not devour
Thy empty glories and thy puff'd-up nothings
And (like a grave) will bury all thy honours?
Do, take his life, and glory in that act;
But, be thou sure, in him thou shalt kill two.
Cle. What mean you, madam?
Cle. That all the gods forbid!
Syl. No, they command it rather, that have made
Our souls but one. Cleander, thou wert wont
To be more courteous; and I do see
Some pity in thee: if not for pity's sake,
Yet for thine own good, spare his life, and take
Mine; for thou know'st, when I am dead, this kingdom
Thy father will inherit or thyself.
'Tis but the waiting of an old man's death,
Who cannot long outlive me: will you do't?
Our souls but one. Cleander, thou wert wont
To be more courteous; and I do see
Some pity in thee: if not for pity's sake,
Yet for thine own good, spare his life, and take
Mine; for thou know'st, when I am dead, this kingdom
Thy father will inherit or thyself.
'Tis but the waiting of an old man's death,
Who cannot long outlive me: will you do't?
Thyr. Sir, you are noble, I do see you are,
You lov'd this lady once: by that dear love—
With me it was a conjuration
To draw my soul out, whilst I was so happy—
I do beseech you spare her noble life,
Her death will sit full heavy on your soul,
And in your height of kingly dignities
Disturb that head which crowns will give no rest to.
To take my life is justice.
You lov'd this lady once: by that dear love—
With me it was a conjuration
To draw my soul out, whilst I was so happy—
I do beseech you spare her noble life,
Her death will sit full heavy on your soul,
And in your height of kingly dignities
Disturb that head which crowns will give no rest to.
To take my life is justice.
Syl. Rather mine;
I have offended in first loving him,
And now betraying him unto his end.
I have offended in first loving him,
And now betraying him unto his end.
Thyr. Be not so cruel, madam, to yourself
And me, to envy me a death so noble.
Sir, as you hope your love shall ever prosper,
Your great designs, your fights, whate'er they are;
As you do hope for peace in your last hour,
And that the earth may lightly clothe your ashes,
Despatch me quickly, send me to my death.
And me, to envy me a death so noble.
Sir, as you hope your love shall ever prosper,
Your great designs, your fights, whate'er they are;
As you do hope for peace in your last hour,
And that the earth may lightly clothe your ashes,
Despatch me quickly, send me to my death.
Cle. A strange contention! Madam, will you please
A little to retire: 'tis your honour
That I do strive to save, as well as life.
Pray, do not cross my purpose; I shall do
Something that you may thank me for.
A little to retire: 'tis your honour
That I do strive to save, as well as life.
Pray, do not cross my purpose; I shall do
Something that you may thank me for.
Syl. Cleander,
Save but the shepherd, and I'll crown thy merit.
Save but the shepherd, and I'll crown thy merit.
Cle. Will you be pleas'd to enter here?
Syl. But swear
That thou wilt save him.
That thou wilt save him.
Cle. I shall do my best.
I dare not swear; for 'tis not in my power
To do what you command.
I dare not swear; for 'tis not in my power
To do what you command.
Syl. But will you swear
To let me know of it before he die?
To let me know of it before he die?
Cle. I will, by heaven.
Syl. Then I take my leave.
And, Thyrsis, be thou sure, whatever fate
Attends thy life, the same does govern mine:
One kiss I must not be denied.
And, Thyrsis, be thou sure, whatever fate
Attends thy life, the same does govern mine:
One kiss I must not be denied.
Cle. Fie, madam!
How low is this in you?
How low is this in you?
Syl. Then thus we part,
To meet again, I hope.
To meet again, I hope.
Thyr. Down, stubborn heart,
Wilt thou not break yet? In my death I find
Nothing that's terrible; but this farewell
Presents my soul with all the pains of hell. [Exeunt.
Wilt thou not break yet? In my death I find
Nothing that's terrible; but this farewell
Presents my soul with all the pains of hell. [Exeunt.
SCENA IV.
Mirtillus, Chorus of Shepherds.
1st Shep. I'm sorry that this business went not forward.
2d Shep. So am not I; we're rid of so much trouble.
1st Shep. Yet it is strange the king should send for us,
And when we were come, command us to return.
And when we were come, command us to return.
Mir. No, 'tis not strange; it was his will to do
so.
But if you have an itch of dancing, friends,
Next holiday we'll ha't amongst ourselves,
And every man shall dance with his own sweetheart:
What say you, shepherds? will't not be as well?
so.
But if you have an itch of dancing, friends,
Next holiday we'll ha't amongst ourselves,
And every man shall dance with his own sweetheart:
What say you, shepherds? will't not be as well?
1st Shep. It will be very fine. But where is Thyrsis?
2d Shep. Ay, where is he! you went along with him;
Where did you leave him?
Where did you leave him?
Mir. Walking in a garden,
Where when I came to call him, he was gone.
Where when I came to call him, he was gone.
2d Shep. It seems he cares not for our company.
Mir. Neither for yours nor any man's besides.
1st Shep. He is much alter'd since his love was lost;
Methinks he's nothing like the man he was.
Methinks he's nothing like the man he was.
Mir. Well then, beware, my friends, how you engage
Yourselves in love: he is a fair example.
And Hylas too—he's drooping for his mistress:
Daphnis is mad, they say; if you've a mind
To die or to run mad, then be in love.
Yourselves in love: he is a fair example.
And Hylas too—he's drooping for his mistress:
Daphnis is mad, they say; if you've a mind
To die or to run mad, then be in love.
2d Shep. See where he comes, in what a fume he is!
Mir. I do not like his fumes: pray let's away. [Exeunt.
SCENA V.
Daphnis. To him Dorinda.
Daph. He will not now be found, the traitor. But,
Where'er he be, nor heaven nor hell shall save him
From my revenge. To take away the life
Of that sweet innocent, without whose sight
He knew I could not live, and to do this
Under the name of friendship! O ye gods!
What age can parallel so great a mischief?
This is his magic glass, which had the virtue
To make her mine, but sent her to the gods.
Bless'd soul, I will revenge thy death, and then
I'll follow thee myself.
Where'er he be, nor heaven nor hell shall save him
From my revenge. To take away the life
Of that sweet innocent, without whose sight
He knew I could not live, and to do this
Under the name of friendship! O ye gods!
What age can parallel so great a mischief?
This is his magic glass, which had the virtue
To make her mine, but sent her to the gods.
Bless'd soul, I will revenge thy death, and then
I'll follow thee myself.
Dor. Daphnis, my, love,
Whither so fast?
Whither so fast?
Daph. Now, love, deliver me;
And must you come to trouble me? Begone!
I cannot stay to hear thy tedious follies.
And must you come to trouble me? Begone!
I cannot stay to hear thy tedious follies.
Dor. Were all your vows then made but to abuse me?
Are there not pains to punish perjur'd men?
And will they not o'ertake you?
Are there not pains to punish perjur'd men?
And will they not o'ertake you?
Daph. 'Las, poor fool!
The gods do laugh at such slight perjuries
As come from lovers.
The gods do laugh at such slight perjuries
As come from lovers.
Dor. Yet it was no conquest
To deceive one that would be credulous:
A simple maid, that lov'd you!
To deceive one that would be credulous:
A simple maid, that lov'd you!
Daph. Then I see
There is no end of women's reasoning;
Or else this might suffice thee—that I cannot,
No, nor I will not love thee.
There is no end of women's reasoning;
Or else this might suffice thee—that I cannot,
No, nor I will not love thee.
Dor. Never?
Daph. Never.
Dor. Go, cruel man, and if the god of love
Will hear my prayers, thou in thy love shalt thrive,
As I in mine: that, when thou art forlorn,
Thou may'st remember her thou now dost scorn. [Exeunt.
Will hear my prayers, thou in thy love shalt thrive,
As I in mine: that, when thou art forlorn,
Thou may'st remember her thou now dost scorn. [Exeunt.
ACTUS V., SCENA 1.
Hylas.
It was the cruel practice of my fate
That lifted me unto the height of bliss
To make my fall the greater: for no sooner
Did I enjoy the love of my Nerina,
But in a moment she was taken from me:
A love so dearly bought with sighs and tears,
So many years spent in the gaining her,
And lost in one poor minute! It is better
Always to live a miserable life
Than once to have been happy. She is dead,
And I alive, that cannot live without her.
'Tis fit that I die too; but by what means?
By violence? No, that the gods forbid.
A ling'ring grief, I need not fear, will kill me,
When every day I shall repair, as now,
Unto her tomb, and consecrate my tears
And tearing sighs unto her blessed ghost.
Some pitying god, when I'm dissolv'd away
Upon her ashes, will congeal those tears,
That they may clothe her dust; whilst some kind shepherd,
Passing this way, does write this on her grave—
That lifted me unto the height of bliss
To make my fall the greater: for no sooner
Did I enjoy the love of my Nerina,
But in a moment she was taken from me:
A love so dearly bought with sighs and tears,
So many years spent in the gaining her,
And lost in one poor minute! It is better
Always to live a miserable life
Than once to have been happy. She is dead,
And I alive, that cannot live without her.
'Tis fit that I die too; but by what means?
By violence? No, that the gods forbid.
A ling'ring grief, I need not fear, will kill me,
When every day I shall repair, as now,
Unto her tomb, and consecrate my tears
And tearing sighs unto her blessed ghost.
Some pitying god, when I'm dissolv'd away
Upon her ashes, will congeal those tears,
That they may clothe her dust; whilst some kind shepherd,
Passing this way, does write this on her grave—
See here Nerina, that from Hylas' eyes
Fed her fair flame, now in their dew she lies.
Fed her fair flame, now in their dew she lies.
Thus I will have it: so the words shall run. [Exit.
SCENA II.
Daphnis, Alcon, Nerina. To them Hylas, Montanus, Charinus, Mirtillus.
Daph. It shall not serve thy turn, malicious shepherd,
Though thou hast ta'en my love away by tricks,
Yet all thy cunning and thy practices
Shall not secure thee from my revenge.
Though thou hast ta'en my love away by tricks,
Yet all thy cunning and thy practices
Shall not secure thee from my revenge.
Alc. Are these the thanks I have for that rich jewel
Which I bestow'd on thee, ungrateful man?
Which I bestow'd on thee, ungrateful man?
Daph. Yes, for a poison'd glass—a precious jewel!
Alc. I do confess 'twas poison'd.
Daph. Do you so!
And, to do me a courtesy, you kill'd her.
And, to do me a courtesy, you kill'd her.
Alc. Yet hear me, she is not dead; and if she be,
I'll pay my life for hers.
I'll pay my life for hers.
Daph. Be sure thou shalt.
But can'st thou hope for such a strong illusion
To mock my sense? Did I not see her dead?
But can'st thou hope for such a strong illusion
To mock my sense? Did I not see her dead?
Alc. She did appear so: what you thought was death
Is but a lethargy; though I profess not
To draw the moon down from the sphere she is in,
Or make the sun look bloody by my art,
Yet am I well-inform'd in everything
This glass is made of, and I know th' effects
It works, and can discourse 'em.
Is but a lethargy; though I profess not
To draw the moon down from the sphere she is in,
Or make the sun look bloody by my art,
Yet am I well-inform'd in everything
This glass is made of, and I know th' effects
It works, and can discourse 'em.
Daph. Let me hear them.
Alc. Have patience, and you shall: the glass, you see,
Of this rare mirror which I gave you, is
Made of a Memphian stone, that has the power
To bring a deadly sleep on all the senses:
With it, to make th' effects more strong, is mingled
The quintessence, extracted in a limbec,
Of the torpedo, which has such a quality
That if the fisher touch it with his hook,
A poison straight will creep through all his veins,
Till it benumb his senses. This compounded,
And made into a glassy metal, soon
Reflects upon the eyes of him that looks in't
A sleepy poison, which will stupefy
The vital parts. Yet he that gave it me
Taught me the cordial water which he us'd
To restore spirits and heat unto those vitals;
And I have brought it with me for our purpose.
What have I wrong'd you now? Or is my present
Worthy the thanks you give me?
Of this rare mirror which I gave you, is
Made of a Memphian stone, that has the power
To bring a deadly sleep on all the senses:
With it, to make th' effects more strong, is mingled
The quintessence, extracted in a limbec,
Of the torpedo, which has such a quality
That if the fisher touch it with his hook,
A poison straight will creep through all his veins,
Till it benumb his senses. This compounded,
And made into a glassy metal, soon
Reflects upon the eyes of him that looks in't
A sleepy poison, which will stupefy
The vital parts. Yet he that gave it me
Taught me the cordial water which he us'd
To restore spirits and heat unto those vitals;
And I have brought it with me for our purpose.
What have I wrong'd you now? Or is my present
Worthy the thanks you give me?
Daph. Yet you were
To blame, that you'd not tell me this, before
I gave it her.
To blame, that you'd not tell me this, before
I gave it her.
Alc. In that I show'd my love;
For I did fear your resolution,
Though I were certain of recovering her.
For I did fear your resolution,
Though I were certain of recovering her.
Daph. And what must now be done?
Alc. Here, where you found me,
I saw her laid, and buried in the clothes
She wont to wear—her father so would have it.
I waited on the funeral with purpose
To see the stone laid hollow on her grave,
For fear of hurting her.
I saw her laid, and buried in the clothes
She wont to wear—her father so would have it.
I waited on the funeral with purpose
To see the stone laid hollow on her grave,
For fear of hurting her.
Daph. It was well done.
Alc. Here I'll apply my medicine; you shall see
Whether I lie or no.
Whether I lie or no.
Daph. Let's lose no time.
I long to see my love alive again.
I long to see my love alive again.
Alc. Then help to lift this stone; see where she lies—
The same Nerina?
The same Nerina?
Daph. She is dead, I see.
Alc. Love is still full of fears: give me the water.
Daph. Here: but take heed it do not spoil her face.
Alc. If she be dead, you need not fear the change
Of any colour. What a child is love!
Of any colour. What a child is love!
Daph. The gods, I see, will not let beauty die.
She breathes—she stirs—her eyes begin to open
As after sleep. O miracle!
She breathes—she stirs—her eyes begin to open
As after sleep. O miracle!
Alc. How now?
Is she alive? Will you believe your sense?
Now I have put her in your hands, be sure
You do not let her go, and lose no time.
If you give credit to her words, you're lost.
What cannot women's words and flatteries
Effect with simple lovers? Think on that.
Be confident: I'll leave you to your fate.
Is she alive? Will you believe your sense?
Now I have put her in your hands, be sure
You do not let her go, and lose no time.
If you give credit to her words, you're lost.
What cannot women's words and flatteries
Effect with simple lovers? Think on that.
Be confident: I'll leave you to your fate.
Ner. Ye gods, where am I now? What place is this?
What light is this I see? Are the same things
Seen in this new world as they are in th' other?
Or in the grave do men see waters, trees,
As I do now, and all things, as I liv'd?
But (sure) I live still. If I do, why then
Was I here buried amongst these flowers?
Sure, I am dead; but yet I walk and speak,
And I have heard that those who once are dead
Can never use their voice or action.
But who is this I see here? Daphnis, ha!
Are you dead too, as well as I?
What light is this I see? Are the same things
Seen in this new world as they are in th' other?
Or in the grave do men see waters, trees,
As I do now, and all things, as I liv'd?
But (sure) I live still. If I do, why then
Was I here buried amongst these flowers?
Sure, I am dead; but yet I walk and speak,
And I have heard that those who once are dead
Can never use their voice or action.
But who is this I see here? Daphnis, ha!
Are you dead too, as well as I?
Daph. No, sweet;
I live to be the servant of Nerina.
I live to be the servant of Nerina.
Ner. Ay, so said Hylas, whilst I liv'd with him.
Daph. She thinks of Hylas still: what shall I do?
Ner. But tell me, Daphnis, in what place am I?
Daph. In Daphnis' heart you live, and ever did.
Ner. And so said Hylas, when we liv'd together.
Daph. O gods, again! Nerina, think not on him;
You must love me.
You must love me.
Ner. Must they in this new world,
As they have chang'd their lives, so change their loves?
I never shall do that.
As they have chang'd their lives, so change their loves?
I never shall do that.
Daph. You are deceiv'd:
You are not dead.
You are not dead.
Ner. Not dead? How came I hither then?
Daph. By my device to keep me company.
Ner. But will you not declare how I came hither?
Daph. Ask me not that; but go along with me.
Ner. Stay, shepherd, whither would you have me go?
Daph. Where love and silence shall befriend us best.
Ner. But tell me, Daphnis, was not I once dead?
Daph. You were; but I, your servant, chang'd that death
Into a sleep.
Into a sleep.
Ner. I know not what you mean:
Can you change death into a sleep?
Can you change death into a sleep?
Daph. I can,
And did for love of you.
And did for love of you.
Ner. This is a riddle:
Pray let me know what you do mean by it?
Pray let me know what you do mean by it?
Daph. Come with me, and you shall.
Ner. Nay, tell me first.
Daph. Then know, fair shepherdess, that when I saw
My love, my services, my gifts, my vows,
Did all return to me without your love,
I had recourse unto this artifice:
A pleasant one of love's invention,
Which you may well remember.
My love, my services, my gifts, my vows,
Did all return to me without your love,
I had recourse unto this artifice:
A pleasant one of love's invention,
Which you may well remember.
Ner. What was that?
Daph. I did present you with a looking-glass.
Ner. You did, but what of that?
Daph. Nothing at all.
Pray, go this way with me.
Pray, go this way with me.
Daph. That cast you into this deep lethargy:
Such was the magic of it.
Such was the magic of it.
Ner. To what purpose
Did you do this?
Did you do this?
Daph. To make you mine.
Ner. Yours, Daphnis?
How could you hope that without my consent?
How could you hope that without my consent?
Daph. My services, I thought, would merit it;
Besides, the world, not dreaming but you were
Dead and here buried, we two might live
Together, without being known to any.
Besides, the world, not dreaming but you were
Dead and here buried, we two might live
Together, without being known to any.
Ner. But could you practise tricks on those you love?
Now you are paid with your own artifice:
For know, there's none that can dispose of me
But Hylas, who has long preserv'd my heart;
And now my father, whom I did resolve
For ever to obey, has made him mine
By giving his consent, which had not been
But for this trick of yours.
Now you are paid with your own artifice:
For know, there's none that can dispose of me
But Hylas, who has long preserv'd my heart;
And now my father, whom I did resolve
For ever to obey, has made him mine
By giving his consent, which had not been
But for this trick of yours.
Daph. Why then it seems
You do not love me?
You do not love me?
Ner. Love you! Know, I had
Rather embrace my death again than thee.
Rather embrace my death again than thee.
Daph. Then 'tis no time to dally: come along,
Or I will force you.
Or I will force you.
Ner. Help me, shepherds, help!
Daph. Fool! stop your mouth, no human help shall save thee.
Enter Hylas.