Torquato Tassos Aminta Englisht To this is added Ariadne's complaint in imitation of Anguillara; written by the translater of Tasso's Aminta

Actus Primus .

Scen : Prima . Daphne . Siluia . I' st possible ( Siluia ) thou canst resolue To spend the faire houres of thy flowring youth With such contempt of Venus , and her Sonne ; And hast no more desire to be a mother , And leaue a part of thee ( when thou art dead ) Liuing behinde thee ? Change ( young fondling ) change Thy minde ; and do not leade a life so strange . Sil. Daphne , let others pleasure take in loue , ( If in such thraledome any pleasure bee ; ) The life I leade contents me well enough ; To chase the flying Deere ouer the lawne With Hounde , or well-aym'de Flight , and while I finde ●hafts in my quiuer , and beasts for my pray , I le want no sport to passe the time away . Da: Fine sports no doubt , and sure a goodly life For silly mindes that neuer tasted other , And for that cause alone it pleases thee : ●o duller ages heretofore could thinke ●cornes and water the best meate and drinke , ●efore the vse of corne and wine was founde , ●ut now th' are onely eate and drunke by beastes : And hadst thou but once proou'd the thousand part Of the deare joyes those happy louers feele , That truely loue , and are belou'd againe , Thou wouldst with sighes repent thy time mispent , And onely call a louers life Content . And say , O my past springtyde , how in vaine Spent I thy widowy nights ? how many dayes In fruitlesse lonenesse , which I now be waile ? Why knew I not loues sweetes haue this condition To bring new ioyes with eu'ry repetition ? Change , change thy minde ( young silly one ) and knowe Too late repentance is a double woe . Sil. When I repent the thoughts I carry now , Or say such words as these thou fayning framest To sport thy selfe withall ; the Floulds shall runne Backe to their Springs , the Wolfe shall fearing flye The silly Lambe , and the young Leurett shall Pursue the speedy Grayhound ore the playne , The Beare shall in the toyling Ocean breede , And finny Dolphine on the mountaines feede . Da: I so , iust such another peeuish thing Like thee was I , when I was of thy yeares ; So look'd , so pac'de , so goulden trest ' , so ruddy My tysing lipp , so in my rising cheeke The damaske rose was blowne ; and I remember Iust such as thine is now , my minde was then , And eu'ne such silly pastimes as thine be I likewise vsd'e ; as with lim'd twiggs to catch Vnwares the fethred singers in the wood , Track the Deeres footing , till I had intrapt them And such like ; when a gentle louer woode me , With such a peeuish grace hang downe the head And blush for scorne I would , as oft thou doe'st ; And that vnseemely forme me thought became mee , Nay eu'ne dislik'd what others lik'de in me , So much I counted it a fault , and shame To be desir'de or lou'de of any one ; But what cannot time bring to passe ? and what Cannot a true and faithfull louer do With importunity , desert and loue ? And I confesse plainely the troth to thee So was I vanquisht ; nor with other armes Then humble suff'rance , sighes , and pitty crauing : But then I soone found in one short nights shade , What the broade light of many hundred dayes Could neuer teach me ; then I could recall My selfe , shake off my blinde simplicitie , And sighing say , here Cinthia take thy bowe , Quiuer , and horne , for I renounce thy life . And I hope yet to see another day Thy wilde thoughts bridled too , and thy hard brest Yeeld , and growe softer at Aminta's plaints . Is he not young and fresh , and louely too ? Does he not loue thee dearely ' , and thee alone ? For though belou'de of many Nymphes , he neuer For others loue , or thy hate , leaues to loue thee . Nor canst thou thinke him to meane borne for thee ; For ( be thou daughter of Cidippe faire , Whose sire was god of this our noble floud ) Yet is Aminta ould Siluanus heire , Of the high seed of Pan the Shepherds god . The sleeke-browd ' Amarillis ( if ere yet In any fountaines glasse thou saw'st thy selfe ) Is not a whit lesse louely then thou art ; Yet all her sweet alurements he reiects , And madly dotes on thy dispightfull loathings . Well , but suppose now , ( and the heau'ns forbid It come to more then supposition ) That he falling from thee , his minde remooue , And cleaue to her , that so deserues his loue ; What will become of thee then ? with what eye Wilt thou behould him in an others armes Happily twyn'de , and thy selfe laught to scorne ? Sil : Be it to ' Aminta and his loues , as best Shall like himselfe ; I 'me at a point for one ; And so he be not mine , be ' he whose he list . But mine he cannot be against my will , Nor yet though he were mine , would I be his . Da: Fye , whence grows this thy hate ? Sil : Why from his loue . Da: Too soft a syre to breed so rough a Sonne ; But who ere sawe Tygars of milde Lambes bred , Or the blacke Rau'ne hatcht of a siluer Doue ? Thou dost but mocke me Siluia , dost thou not ? Sil : I hate his loue , that doth my honour hate ; And lou'de him , whilst he sought what I could graunt . Da: T is thou offend'st thy selfe ; he doth but crane The same for thee , that he desires to haue . Sil : I pre'thee Daphne either speake no more , Or somwhat else that I may answer to . Da: See fondling see How ill this peeuishnesse of youth becomes thee ; Tell me but this yet , if some other lou'de thee , Is this the welcome thou wouldst giue his loue ? Sil : Such and worse welcome they deserue , that ar These theenes of silly maydes virginities , Whice you call louers , and I enimies . Da: Is the ramme then to th' ewe an enimy , The bull to th' bayfer , is the turtle too , An enemy to ' his mate that loues him so ? And is the Spring the season of debate , That ( sweetly smiling ) leades to coupling bands The beast , the fish , the fowle , women and men ? And see'st thou not that e'ury thing that is , Breathes now a soueraign ayre of loue , and sweetnesse , Pleasure , and health ? behold that Turtle there With what a wooing murmur he sighes loue To his belou'de ; harke of yon Nitingall That hops from bough to bough , Singing I loue I loue ; nay more then these , The speckled Serpent layes his venim by , And greedy runnes to ' imbrace his loued one ; The Tygar loues , and the proud Lion too ; Thou onely sauadge more then sauadge beasts Barr'st against loue thy more-then-yron brest . But what speake I of Lions , Tygars , Snakes , That sensible ar ? why all these trees doe loue ; See with what amorous and redoubled twinings The louing Vine her husband faire intangles ; The Beech tree loues the Beech , the Pine the Pine , The Elme the Elme loues , and the Willows too A mutuall languish for each other feele . That Oake that seemes so rough and so impenitrable , Doth no lesse feele the force of amorous flame ; And hadst thou but the spirit and sence of loue , His hidden language thou wouldst vnderstand . Wilt thou be lesse and worse then trees and plants , In being thus an enimy to Loue ? Fye silli'one fie ; these idle thoughts remooue . Sil : When I heare trees sighe ( as belike they do ) I 'le be content to bee a louer too . Da: Well , mock my words , laugh my aduice to scorne , ( Deaffe to Loues sound , and simple as thou art ) But goe thy wayes ; be sure the time will come When thou shalt flye from the now-loued fount Where thou behold'st and so admyr'st thy selfe ; Fearing to view thy selfe so wrinkled fowle ●s age will make thee ; but I note not this ●o thee aboue the rest , for though age be ●uill , 't is so to all as well as thee . Heard'st thou what Elpine spake this other day , The reu'rend Elpine to the faire Licoris , Licoris whose eyes wrought vpon him that Which his songs should haue wrought vpon her heart , ●f Loue could learne but to giue each his due ) He tould it ( Batto ' and Thirsis being by , ●hose two learn'd louers ) in Auroras denne , ●●er whose doore is writt — hence yee prophane , ●ye yee farre hence , which words he writt ( sayd he ) ●hat in that high pitch sang of loues and armes , ●nd when he dyed bequeath'd his pipe to him ; ●here was ( he said ) lowe in th' infernall lake A dungeon darke , aye fill'd with noysom fumes ●reath'd from the furnaces of Acaron , ●nd there all cruell and ingratefull women ●●ue in eternall horror , and ar fedd With onely their owne bootelesse plaints and cryes . ●ooke to 't betimes , or I am sore afraide ●here must a roome be taken vp for you , 〈◊〉 quite this cruelty to others vsd'e . ●nd 't were but iustice , that those fumes should drawe ● sea of sorrow from those eyes of thine , ●hat pitty could ne're make to shed a teare : Well , runne on thine owne course , and marke the ende . Sil : But what did then Licoris ( pre'thee tell me ) What reply did shee make to Elpine's words ? Da: How curious th' art in other folkes affaires , And carelesse quite in what concernes thy selfe ? Why , with her eyes Licoris answer'd him . Sil : How could shee answer only with her eyes ? Da: Yes ; her faire eyes wrapt in a sunny smile , Tould Elpine this ; Her heart and we are thine ; More cannot she giue , nor must thou desire . This were alone enough to satis sie And serue for full reward to a chast louer , That held her eyes as true as they were faire , And put entire and harty trust in them . Sil : But wherfore does not he then trust her eyes ? Da: I 'le tell thee ; know'st thou not what Thirsis wri● When hurryed so with loue , and loues disdaine He wont to wander all about the woods , In such a sort , as pitty moou'de , and langhter Mong'st the young Swaines and Nymphes that gaz'de o● him ? Yet writ he nought that laughter did deserue , Though many things he did , deseru'd no lesse . He writ it on the barkes of sundry trees , And as the trees , so grew his verse . 'T was this — Deluding eyes , false mirhors of the heart , Full well I finde how well yee can deceiue : But what auailes , if loue inforce my will To'imbrace your harmes , and dote vpon you still ? Sil : Well thus we wast the time in ydle chatt , And I had halfe forgot , that 't is to day We did appoint to meet in th' Oaken groue , To hunt an houre ; I pre'thee if thou wilt , Stay for me till I haue in yon fresh fount ●ayd off the sweat and dust that yesterday ●soyld me with , in chase of a swift Doe , That at the length I ouertooke , and kill'de . Da: I 'le stay for thee , and perhaps wash me too , But first I 'le home a while , and come againe , ●or the daye 's younger then it seemes to be . Goe then , and stay there for me till I come ; ●nd in the meane time , thinke on my aduice , ●hat more imports thee , then the chase , or fount ; ●nd if thou dost not thinke so , thou must know Thou little know'st ; and ought'st thy iudgement bowe To their direction that know more then thou .

Actus Primus . Scen : Secunda . Aminta . Thirsis . AT my laments I 'ue heard the rocks , the waters For pitty answer ; and at my complaint ●he leau'de boughes murmur , as they grieu'd for me ; ●●t neuer saw , nor euer hope to see Pitty in the faire and cruell ( shall I say Woman or ) tygar ? for a woman shee Denyes to be , in thus denying me The pitty this my miserable state Drawes from things sencelesse , and inanimate . Thir : Lambes on the grasse , the Wolfe feedes on th● Lambe● Loue ( cruellest of things ) with teares is fedd . And though he euer feedes , is neuer full . Am: Alas alas , loue hath bin with my teares Long since full fedd , and now thirsts onely for My bloud ; and long it shall not be , ere he And the faire Cruell drinke it with their eyes . Thi : Ay me , what sayst thou ' Aminta ? Fye no more Of this strange dotage ; be of comfort man And seeke some other ; others thou mayest finde As true , as this is cruell , and vnkinde . Am: Alas how weary'a worke were it for me Other to seeke , that cannot finde my selfe ; And hauing lost my selfe , what can I gaine With busie'st search that shall requite the paine ? Thi : Dispaire not yet , vnhappy though thou bee , Shee may in time relent , and pitty thee : Time makes the Tygar and the Lion tame . Am: O but so long to hope and be delaid , Is worse then death to one in miserie . Thi : Perhaps thy suffrance shall not long endure ; For mayds so ' inconstant ar of disposition , That as th' ar soone at odds , th' ar as soone wonne ; Vncertaine as the leafe Howne with each winde , And flexible as is the bladed grasse . But gentle Shepherd , let me craue to know More throughly thy loues hard condition ; For though I 'ue often heard thee say thou lou'st , Thou neuer tould'st me yet , who 't was thou lou'st ; And well it fitts the nearenesse of our liues , And frendship , that such counsayls should be none Betweene vs two , but free to both , as one . Am: Thirsis , I am content to ope to thee What the woods , hills , and flouds ar priuy to , But no man knowes : so neere alas I finde Th' approaching period of this loathed breath , That reason 't is I leaue some one behinde , That may relate th' occasion of my death , And leaue it written on some Beech-tree barke , Neere where my bloudlesse carkasse shall be lay'd ; That as the cruell Faire shall passe along , She may at pleasure spurne with her proud foote The vnhappy bones , And smiling say ; loe here , loe where he lyes ; The triumph and the trophey of mine eyes ; And ( to encrease her fame , ) reioyce to see In my sad ende her beauties victory Knowne to the Nimphes , and Shepherds farr and neere , Whom the report may thither guide : perhaps ( Ab hopes too high ) shee may bestow a sigh , And though too late , with some compassion rue The losse of him dead , whom shee liuing slue , And wish he liu'd againe . But I digresse . Thi : On with thy story , for I long to heare 't ; Perhaps to better ende then thou supposest . Am: Being but a Lad , so young as yet scarse able To reach the fruit from the low-hanging boughes Of new growne trees ; Inward I grew to bee With a young mayde , fullest of loue and sweetnesse , That ere display'd pure gold tresse to the winde ; Thou know'st her mother hight Cidippe ; no ? Montano the rich Goteheard is her father : Siluia , faire Siluia 't is I meane , the glory Of all these woods , and flame of euery heart ; 'T is shee , 't is she I speake of ; long alas Liu'd I soneare her , and then lou'de of her , As like two turtles each in other joy'de ; Neere our abodes , and neerer were our bearts ; Well did our yeares agree , better our thoughts ; Together woue we netts t'intrapp the fish In flouds and sedgy fleetes ; together sett Pitfalls for birds ; together the pye'd Buck And flying Doe ouer the plaines we chac'de ; And in the quarry ' , as in the pleasure shar'de : But as I made the beasts my pray , I found My heart was lost , and made a pray to other . By little ' and little in my breast beganne To spring , I know not from what hidden roote ( Like th' her be that of it selfe is seene to growe ) A strange desire , and loue still to be neere And hourely drinke from the faire Siluias eyes A sweetnesse past all thought , but it had still ( Me thought ) a bitter farewell ; oft I sigh'd , Yet knew no cause I had to sigh ; and so Became betimes a louer , ere I knewe What loue meant ; but alas I knewe too soone ; And in what sort , marke , and I 'le tell thee Thir : Onn. Am: All in the shade of a broad Beech-tree sitting , Siluia , Phillis , and my selfe together ; A Bee , that all about the flowry mede Had hunny gathred ; flow to Phillis cheeke ; The rosie cheeke mistaking for a rose , And there ( belike ) his little needle left : Phillis cryes out , impatient of the paine Of her sharp sting ; but th' euerlouely Siluia Bad her be patient ; Phillis ( said shee ) peace , And with a word or two I 'le heale thy hurt , And take the sting , and soone the griefe away ; This secret erst the graue Aretia taught mee , And her I gaue ( in recompence ) the horne Of Yuory tipt with gould I wont to were ; This said , the libs of her faire sweetest mouth Vpon th' offended cheeke shee laid ; and straite , ( O strange effect ) whether with the sound it were Of her soft murmur'd verse of Magick powre , Or rather ( as I rather doe beleeue ) The vertue of her mouth , That what it toucheth , cures , Phillis was cur'de ; And with the paine soone was the swelling gone . I , that till then ne're dream't of more delight , Then on the shine of her bright eyes to gaze , And ioy to heare her speake , ( musique more sweete , Then makes the murmur of a slow pac'de brooke , When t is with thousand little pebbles crost ; Or the winde pratling 'mongst the wanton leaues ) Gan then , eu'n then to feele a new desire Possesse me , of touching those deare lips with mine ; And growne more suttle then I was before , ( So loue perhaps th' imagination whets , ) I found this new deceipt , whereby to ' aspire With greater ease to th' end of my desire ; I faynde my selfe stung on the nether lip , In like sort with a Bee as Phillis was ; And in such manner gan to moane myselfe , As th' helpe my tongue crau'd not , my lookes implored ; The harmlesse Siluia , pittying stratt my case , Offred her ready cure to my fayn'd hurt ; But th' vnfayn'd wound I bleede of , deeper made , And farre more deadly , when those corall twinnes On mine shee layd . Nor do the giddy Bees Gather from any flowre honey so sweete , As I did from those freshest roses gather ; Though bashfull shame , and feare had taught to barre , Hot kisses from desire to presse too farre , T'imbathe themselues ; and did their heate withholde And kill , or made them slower and lesse bolde . But while downe to my bea rt that sweetnesse glided , Mixt with a secret poyson , such delight I inly felt , that faigning still the griefe Of the sting had not left me yet ; so dealt , That shee the charme repeated sundry times : Since when till now , still more and more I finde , For all her charme , she' has left the sting behinde . Whose paine ere since hath so increas'd vpon me , As my loue-labouring breast could hold no longer , But that vpon a time , when diuers Nymphes And Shepherds of vs in a ring were sitting , Whilst the play was , each one should softly whisper Some word in th' eare of her that next him sat ; Siluia ( quoth I soft in her eare ) for thee I pine , and dye , vnlesse thou pitty mee . No sooner heard she this , but downe she hangs The faire looke , whence I might perceiue to breake A suddaine and vnwonted ruddinesse , That seem'd to breat he forth anger mixt with shame ; Nor would shee ' in other language answer mee , Then such a troubled silence , as appear'd Threatning and deadly ; nor since then would euer Willingly see , or heare me : Thrise the Sunne His yearly course hath runne , thrise the greene fields Hath the nak'd Sythman barb'd ; and three times hath The Winter rob'd the trees of their greene lockes ; That I haue tryde all meanes I could , t' appease her , And nought remaines , but that I dye to please her ; And gladly would I dye , were I but sure 'T would either please , or but drawe pitty from her ; Each were a blessing to mee , though no doubt Her pitty were of both the greater meede , And worthyer recompense for all my loue , And for my death ; yet I were loth to wish Ought , that too rudely might those eyes molest , Or do the least offence to that deare brest . Thi : Did she but heare thus much from thee , beleeu'st thou It would not make her loue , or pitty thee ? Am: I neither knowe , nor can I hope so much : Shee flyes my speech , as th' Adder doth the charme , Thi : Well be of comfort ; my minde giues mee yet , Wee 'll finde a meane that she shall heare thee speak Am: 'T will come to nought ; to begg such grace were vaine , For mee to speake , where speech no grace will gaine . Thi : For shame dispaire not thus . Ami : Alas iust cause Bids mee dispaire ; my cruell destinie Was read by the graue Mopso long agon , Mopso that knowes the hid language of birds , And vnderstands the force of herbes and founts . Thi : What Mopo's this thou speak'st on ? is 't not he That carryes honey in his supple tongue , And friendly smiles for all he lookes vpon , But in his heart deceipt , and hidden beares Vnder his coate a rasor ? shame befall him ; The vilde vnlucky doomes he lewdly sells To silly fooles with that graue looke , and grace , Ar farr from trueth ; take 't of my word , and triall . I 'le rather hope ( and sure my hope will thriue ) That from this fellowes ydle auguryes Much happyer fate will to thy loue arise . Am: If ought by proofe thou know'st of him , good swayne Hyde it not from me ? Thir : I le tell thee willingly . When first my hap led mee to know these woods , I knew this fellow , and esteemed him As thou do'st : So it fortun'd once , I had Desire and bus'nesse to go see that great Wonder of Citties , at whose ancient feete The broad-fam'd riuer runnes ; and him I made Acquainted with my purpose : he replyes , And thus began to preach ; My sonne beware Now thou art going to that seate of fame , Where those deceiptfull crafty Cittizens , And euill minded Courtiers liue , and wont To scoffe at vs , and hould in such a scorne Our plaine distrnstlesse homely carriage ; Be well aduiz'd ( my sonne ) and presse not there Where the fresh colour'd robes with gould ar wrought , Gay plumes , and dayly-varied dressings shine ; But aboue all , beware accursed Fate , Or thy youths iollity conduct thee not Vnto that magazine of restlesse chatt , But flye that cursed and inchaunted place . What place is that ( quoth I ? ) 't is there ( said he ) Where dwell th' inchantresses that haue the powre And arte to make men , and their minds transparent ; And what so Diamonds seeme , and finest gold , But glasse and copper ar ; those siluer chestes That seeme full of rich treasor , ar no more Then kennells full of filth , and cozen men ; The walles ar built too with that wondrous arte , That they will speake , and answer them that speake ; Nor in halfe words , and such imperfect sounds , As wont the Eccos that heere haunt our grounds , But eu'ry word whole , and entyre repeating : Nay more then this , the tables , chaires , and stooles , Hangings , and all that to each roome belongs , Haue toung and voice , and neuer silent ar ; False lyes there , formde into the shape of babes , Ar hopping all about ; and be he dumbe That enters there , findes straite a tongue to prate And lye with ; but there is yet worse then this , May happen thee ; thou mayst perhaps be turn'd Into a beast , a tree , a floud , a flame , Into a floud of teares , a fire of sighes . All this he tould mee ; and I forward went To see the Cittie with this false beliefe ; And ( as good happ would haue it , ) chaunc'd to passe Along the place where stands that blessed dwelling , Whence I might heare breath out such melody , By Swans , and Nimphes , and heau'nly Syrens made , With voyce so shrill , so sweet and full of pleasure , That all amaz'd , I stay'd to gaze , and listen : Before the doore there stood ( mee seem'd ) as guard Of the faire showes within , a man in showe And of proportion stout , and knightly hue ; Such as ( for what he seem'd me ) made me doubt Whether for Armes he were , or counsaile fitter : With a benigne , and milde , though graue aspect , He highly-faire bespake , and led me in ; He great in place , mee poore and homely man : But then , what did I see ? what did I heare ? Celestiall goddesses , and louely Nimphes , New lights , new Orpheusses ; and others too Vnuayl'd vnclouded , as the virgin-morne , When siluer dewes her golden rayes adorne . There Phaebus shone , inlightning all about , With all his sister Muses ; among whom Satt Elpine ; at which sight , all in a trice I felt my selfe growe greater then my selfe , Full of new powre , full of new diety ? And sang of warres , and Knightly deedes in Armes , Scorning the rurall Songs I wont to make ; And though I after did ( for others pleasure ) Turne to these woods againe , yet I retaynde Part of that Spirit ; nor yet sounds my pipe So lowly as before , but shriller farr . And through the woods rings with a trumpets voyce . Afterward Mopso heard me ' ; and with so vilde , And sowre a count'nance greeted mee , that I Became straite hoarce , and was a long time mute ; When all the Shepherds said , sure I had bin Scar'd with the Wolfe ; but Mopso was the Wolfe . This I haue tould thee , that thou mayst beleeue How little this mans words deserue beliefe ; And out of doubt , th' hast the more cause to hope , For that this fellow bids thee not to hope . Am: I 'me glad to heare this troth of him ; but now I leaue my life , and my liues care to you . Thi : Feare not 't is all my care to cure thy paine : Within this boure see thou be here againe . Chorus . O Happy Age of Gould ; happy ' houres ; Not for with milke the riuers ranne , And hunny dropt from eu'ry tree ; Nor that the Earth bore fruits , and flowres , Without the toyle or care of Man , And Serpents were from poyson free ; Nor for th' Ayre ( euer calme to see ) Had quite exil'de the lowring Night ; Whilst clad in an eternall Spring ( Now fiery hott , or else freezing ) The cheekes of heau'n smil'de with cleare light ; Nor that the wandring Pine of yore Brought neither warres , nor wares from forraine shore ; But therefore only happy Dayes , Because that vaine and ydle name , That couz'ning I doll of vnrest , ( Whom the madd vulgar first did raize , And call'd it Honour , whence it came To tyrannize or'e eu'ry brest , ) Was then suffred to molest Poore louers hearts with new debate ; More happy they , by these his hard And cruell lawes , were not debar'd Their innate freedome ; happy state ; The goulden lawes of Nature , they Found in their brests ; and then they did obey . Amidd the siluer streames and floures , The winged Genii then would daunce , Without their bowe , without their brande ; The Nymphes sate by their Paramours , Whispring loue-sports , and dalliance , And ioyning lips , and hand to hand ; The fairest Virgin in the land . Nor scorn'de , nor glor'yed to displaye Her cheekes fresh roses to the eye , Or ope her faire brests to the day , ( Which now adayes so vailed lye , ) But men and maydens spent free houres In running Riuers , Lakes , or shady Bowres . Thou Honour , thou didst first deuize To maske the face of Pleasure thus ; Barr water to the thirst of Loue , And lewdly didst instruct faire eyes They should be nyce , and scrupulous , And from the gazing world remooue Their beauties ; thy hands new netts woue T' intrap the wilde curles , faire dispred To th' open ayre ; thou mad'st the sweet Delights of Loue seeme thus vnmeete ; And ( teaching how to looke , speake , tread , ) By thy ill lawes this ill hast left , That what was first Loues gift , is now our theft . Nor ought thy mighty working brings , But more annoyes , and woe to vs ; But thou ( of Nature and of Loue The Lord , and scourge of mighty Kings , ) Why do'st thou shrowde thy greatnesse thus In our poore cells ? hence , and remooue Thy powre ; and it display aboue . Disturbing great ones in their sleepe ; And let vs meaner men alone T'inioye againe , ( when thou art gone ) And lawes of our Forefathers keepe . Liue we in loue , for our liues houres Hast on to death , that all at length deuoures . Liue we while we may ; the wayne Of Heau'n can set , and rise againe ; But we ( when once we looze this light ) Must yeeld vs to a neuer ending Night .

Actus Secundus .

Scena Prima . Satyr solus . SMall is the Bee ; but yet with his small sting Does greater mischiefe , then a greater thing . But what of all things can be lesse then Loue , That through so narrow passages can pierce , And in so narrow roome lye hid ? sometime Vnder the shaddow of an eye-lids fault , Now in the small curle of a shining tresse , Now in the little pitts which forme sweet smiles In an inamo'ring checke ; yet makes so deepe , So deadly and immedicable wounds . Ay me my brest is all one bleeding wound ; A thousand armed darts alas are lodg'd By that fell tyrant Loue in Siluia's eyes ; Cruell Loue , cruell Siluia , sauadger Then the wilde desarts ; O how well thy name Sutes with thy nature ( Siluan as thou art ) The woods vnder their greene roofes hide the Snake , The Beare , the Lyon ; and thou in thy brest Hydest disdaine , hate , and impietie , More balefull then the Lion , Beare , or Snake ; For they will someway be reclaim'de ; thou neither With prayers or gifts ; Alas when I present thee Fresh floures , thou frowardly refusest them ; Perhaps because th' hast in thy louely face , Fairer then those ; Alas when I present thee Faire Apples , thou do'st scornfully reiect them ; Perhaps because thy bosome beares a paire Fairer then those ; Ay mee when I present thee Sweet honey , thou disdainfully deny'st it , Perhaps because thy lips breathe sweeter honey Then the Bee makes ; but if my pouerty Can giue thee nought that thou hast not more faire , And louely in thy selfe , my selfe I giue thee ; But thou vniust scorn'st , and abhorr'st the gift . Yet I 'me not so fowle , to be so dispiz'de , If well I mark'd my selfe , when th' other day I view'd my shadowe in the watry mayne , When the winde blew not , and the sea lay still . The manly tincture of my sanguine brow , These muscled armes , and shoulders large enough ; This hairy brest of mine , and hory thyes Proclaime my able force , and manly hood ; Make triall of mee if thou doubt'st of it . What wilt thou do with these same tenderlings , On whose bare cheeke the young downe scarsely springs ? With what an art they place their haire in order ? Women in shew , and women in their strength . Tell mee , who wilt thou haue to follow thee O're the bald hills , and through the leauy woods , And fight for thee with Beare , and armed Bore ? No no , my shape 's not it thou hat'st mee for , But 't is my pouerty thou dost abhorre . Ah that poore Cottages will follow still Great Townes example in what ere is ill ; This may be truely call'd the Golden age , For gould alone preuailes , gould only raynes . O thou ( who ere thou wert ) that first didst teach To sell loue thus , accursed be thy dust . And thy colde buried bones ; nor euer may Shepherd or Nimphe say to them , rest in peace ; But be they washt with raines , and tost with windes , And may the passers by , and all the rout Of beasts with fowle feete spurne them all about . Base mercinary loue , thou hast deflour'd Loues noblenesse ; and turn'd his happy ioyes Into such bitternesse , and sharpe annoyes . Loue to be slaue to golde ? O miracle More odious , and abominable farre Then the large earth produces , or the Mayne . But why alas , why do I vexe my selfe Thus all in vaine ? no , let each creature vse Those armes that Nature for his ayde hath giu'n him , The Hart his speede , the Lyon his strong pawe , The foaming Bore his tuske ; the womans armes And powre lye in her beauty ' , and gracefull shape ; I , since my strength is the best helpe I haue , And am by nature fit for deedes of force , Will for reward of all my loue mispent , Force this proud cruell to my owne content . And by so much as I can vnderstand , ( As yon Goteherd that hath obseru'd her wayes Hath lately tolde me ) she doth oft repaire To 'a water-fount to wash her selfe ; the place He made me knowe , and there I meane to lye Close in a thickett neere , t' attend her comming , And as occasion fits , I 'le make her myne , What can she do then , what auayle alas Can her hands giue her , or her leggs to flye ( Poore wretch ) from me so forcible , and swift ? Let her a good yeere weepe , and sigh , and rayle , And put on all the powre her beauty hath ; If once I catch her by the snary curles , We will not part in hast , till I haue bath'd ( For my reuenge ) my armes in her warme bloud .

Actus Secundus . Scen : Secunda . Daphne . Thirsis . THirsis ( as I haue tolde thee ) well I knowe How well , Aminta Siluia loues ; heau'n knowes How many friendly offices I haue , And will do for him ; and so much the rather For that thou do'st intreate in his behalfe ; But I would sooner take in hand to tame A Beare , or Tygar then a fond young wench ; The silly thing ( simple as faire ) sees not How sharpe and burning be her beauties rayes , But smiles or cries ; yet wounds where ere shee goe , And fondly knowes not if shee hurt or no. Thi : Tush there 's no wench so simple but shee knowes Soone as shee leaues the cradle , how to seeme Spruce , and delightfull ; and what armes to vse To hurte , or kill outright , and what to heale A wounded heart , and giue it life withall . Da: What Master is 't that shewes 'hem all these arts ? Thi : He that instructs the birds to sing and flye ; The Fish to swimme , the Ramme to butt , the Bull To vse his horne , the Peacocke to display His many-ey'ed-plumes beautie to the day . Da: How name you this same teacher ? Thi : H' has a name . Da: Go trifler . Thi : Why I pre'thee art not thou Fitt enough to teach twenty girles their lessons ? I 'le warrant thee , I ; and yet to speake the troth They neede no teacher ; Nature teacheth them Although the nurse and mother haue a part . Da: Come y' ar vnhappy ; but in earnest now I 'me not resolu'd Siluia so simple is As by her words shee seemes ; for th' other day One deede of hers put me in doubt of her : I found her in those broad fields neere the towne , Where amongst drown'de grounds , lies a little Isle , And round about , a water cleare , and calme ; There o're shee hung her head ; and seem'd ( me thought ) Full proud to see her selfe , and tooke aduice O'th'water , in what order best to lay Her locks , and them about her brow display , And ouer them her vaile , and ouer that The flowres shee carried in her lapp ; now heere Shee hung a Lilly , there shee stuck a Rose ; Then layd them to her neck , and to her cheeke , As to try whethers hew the other past ; At last , ( as ioyfull of the victory ) Shee smiling seem'd to say , the day is mine ; Nor do I weare you for my ornament , But for your owne disgrace ( counterfait floures ) To shew how much my beauty passeth yours . But while shee thus stood decking of her selfe , Shee turn'd her eye by chance , and soone had found That I had noted her , and blusht a mayne , Downe fell her flowres ; I laught to see her blush ; And she blusht more , perceiuing that I laught ; But , ( for of one side of her face , the haire Was hung abroad , and th' other not , ) shee turnes To th' water once on twice , to mend the fault , And gaz'd as 't were by stealth , ( fearfull belike That I too neerly ey'd her , ) where she sawe Her haire ( though orderlesse , yet ) hanging so , As grac'd her well ; I saw , and saw her not . Thi : All this I will beleeue : guest I not well ? Da: Thou didst : but yet I will be bolde to say That I haue seldome seene a Shepherdesse Or Nimph what euer of her yeares discreeter ; Nor was I such when I was of her yeares : The world growes olde , and of a troth I thinke It growes as ill as olde . Thi : True ; heretofore Those of the Cittie were not wont so much To haunt these woods as now adayes they do , Nor meaner people in the village bredd , To come so much among the cittizens ; Their blouds are now more mingled , and their customes . But leaue we this discourse ; and tell me now Could'st thou not finde a time Aminta might Either alone , or in thy presence come To speake to Siluia ? Da: I cannot tell ; Siluia is nyce and strange beyond all measure . Thi : And he nicely respest full beyond measure . Da: He 's i' the wrong then , fye on such a louer ; Nice ( quoth you ? ) counsel him to leaue that vice , If he will learne to loue ; he must be bould , And vrge with speeding importunitie ; Let him a little filtch ; if that be vaine , Then rauish : tush know'st thou what women ar ? They flye ; but eu'ry step wish to be tane ; What they denie , they wish were snatcht from them ; They fight , but still wish to be ouercome . I tell thee this Thirsis , but in thine eare : Blabb not what I' say to thee ' , I cannot speake Inrime ( thou know'st ) but if I could , I 'de say Somewhat more worth then rime to beare away . Thi : Feare not , I will not speake Ought from thy lips what ere they ope to me . But gentle Daphne , for the deare dayes sake Of thy past youth , helpe me to helpe Aminte Poore wretch that dyes . Dap : Ah what a propper stile Of coniuration ( foole ) hast thou deuiz'd To mooue me with ; bringing my youth to minde , The pleasure I haue lost , and paine I finde . But what would'st haue me doe ? Thi : Th' art not to seeke of wit , nor yet of powre , Do but dispose thy will , I 'le aske no more . Da: Well then , I 'le tell thee : wee ar going now Siluia and I together all alone Vnto Diana's fount , to wash our selues ; There where the planetree with his safer shade Ore-spreds the coole streame , and is wont t' inuite The weary huntresses to rest , and coole them : There shee 'll vncase her so-beloued limbs . Thi : And what of that ? Da: What of that ? silly th' art Or else thou would'st not aske me what of that . Thi : Suppose I hit thy meaning , who knowes yet If he will dare to meete her there or no ? Da: No ? Why then truely let him stay till shee Come to woee him ; and when will that be trow yee ? Thi : Do shee or not , he does deserue shee did . Da: But now let 's leaue this theame ; and talk a word Or two of thee ; say Thirsis , wilt not thou Resolue at last to be a louer too ? Th' art not yet olde ; fewe more then thirty yeeres Haue ouer-slipt thee , and I well remember Thy infancie ; wilt thou liue ioylesse still ? For only 'a louers is the happy life . Thi : The ioyes of Venus he inioyes as well , That shunning louers painfull miseries , Tastes of the sweet , and lets the sowre alone . Da: O but that sweet growes dull , and gluts betime , That is not seas'ned with a little sowre . Thi : Better 't is to be glutted ( of the two ) Then pine before one feedes , and after two . Da: But if the foode be pleasing , and possest , 'T is good before ; and in the tasting best . Thi : No man can so possesse what he desires , As iust t' inioy it then when 's hunger craues it . Da: Who hopes to finde , that neuer meanes to seeke ? Thi : 'T is dangerous to seeke that which once found , Pleases a little , but not found , torments Much more ; no , no , I 'le go no more a wooing ; Cupid shall triumph ouer me no more ; I know a little what those suffrings be , Let others prooue them if they list for me . Da: Belike th' hast not inioy'd loues pleasure yet : Thi : Nor do I wish to buy the plague so deare . Da: You may perhaps be forc'd against your will ; Thi : Who keepes himselfe farr off , cannot be forc'd . Da: Who can be far from loue ? Thi : Who feares & flies . Da: But what auayles to flye from him hath wings ? Thi : Loue but new borne , hath wings but short & small , And hardly strong enough to flye with all . Da: Be'ing young , we know him not ; but after , long ; And when we feele him once , he 's growne too strong . Thi : Not if we neuer felt him grow before . Da: Well ; yee shall hau 't ; wee 'll see how well you will Bridle your eye and heart ; but I protest Since thou canst play both Hound and Hare so well , If ere I heare thee call and cry for helpe , I will not mooue a foote , nor yet a finger , Nor stirr an eye , nor speake a word for thee . Thi : Would'st haue the heart ( cruell ) to see me dye ? If thou wouldst haue me loue , why loue thou mee , And lett 's now make a louing bargaine on 't . Da: Away you mock me now ; well well , perhaps You do not merit such a loue as mine . I 'ue seene many a ladd as fine as you Deceiu'd with a faire seeming painted face . Thi : I doe not jest nor mock thee ; this is but A couler now to barr me louing thee , As 't is the custome of you all to do : But if you will not loue me , I 'm content , To liue still as I do . Da: I , liue so still , Happyer then twenty others ; liue in ease ; Perhaps vnwares ease may ingender loue . Thi : O Daphne , a God this ease hath bred mee ; he That hath appear'd a second god to mee By whom so many heards and flocks ar fedd From th' one to th' other Sea , vpon the faire And fruitfull Plaines , and on the craggy backs Of the steepe Apenines : he said to mee , When as he made me his ; Thirsis ( quoth he ) Let others chase the Wolfe , and Thiefe , and keepe A watchfull eye ouer my walled sheepe ; Let others care be to reward , or punish My Ministers ; let others feede and tende My flocks , and keep the accoumpt of milke & wooll ; And take , and pay : take thou thine ease , and sing , Wherefore 't is reason good , I let goe by All looser straines , and vainer carrolings ; And sing his Auncesters , and their high praise , Who is to me Ioue , and Apollo both ; Since in his lookes and deeds he both resembles Issue of Saturne and of Heau'ne . Poore Muse To meane for such a taske ; and yet how e're Horce voic'd , or clere she sings , he not contemns her . I sing not him , too high for my lowe rimes , Whom silent adoration onely can Worthily honour ; but still shall his altars Be sprinckled with my floures , and ne're without My humble Incense fuming all about . Which simple ( yet deuoute ) religion in me When it shall leaue my heart , the Harts shal feede ●n th' ayre on ayre ; and so the flouds shall change ●heir bedd , and course ; that Sone shall Persia greete , ●nd the large Tigris beat the French - Alpes feete . Da: O thou fly'st high ; pre'thee descend a little , And to our purpose . Thi : Then heere lyes the poynt ; That as thou go'st with her vnto the fount , Thou vse thy best cunning to make her comming , And heare Aminta speake ; meane time my care Shall be to make Aminta meete you there . I feare my taske will be the hard'st of both . Onn then o' Gods name . Da: Yes , I goe ; but Thirsis , Wee were discoursing of an other matter . Thi : If mine eye faile me not , yon same should be Aminta , that comes hitherward ; 't is he .

Actus Secundus . Scena Tertia . Aminta . Thirsis . NOw shall I see what Thirsi' has done for me ; And if he haue done nothing , ere my woes Melt me'into nothing , I 'le go kill my selfe Before the proud face of that cruell mayde , That so delights to see my hearts deepe wound Made by her murth'ring eyes , as sure it can Please her no lesse , to see her sad command Fulfill'd on my owne brest with my owne hand . Thi : Newes , newes Aminta , happy newes I bring thee ; Cleare then thy browe , and cast thy griefes away . Am: What is 't thou sayst Thirsis , what bringst thou me , Life , or death ? new ioy , or new miserie ? Thi : I bring thee life and ioy , if thou but dare To goe and meet them ; but I tell thee true Thou must not faint but play the man Aminta . Am: Why against whom should I aduance my force ? Thi : Suppose the Nymphe thou lou'st were in a wood That ( wal'de about with mountaines of sharpe briars ) Were full of Tygars , and of greedy Lyons , Wouldst thou go thither ? Am: Yes , more cheerefully , Then village-lasse to the daunce o'holly dayes . Thi : Were she ingag'd 'mongst troopes of armed theeues , Would'st thou goe thither ? Am: Yes more greedily , Then runnes the thirstie Hart to the coole streeme . Thi : O but a harder taske askes greater labour . Am: Why I would passe through the deuouring torrents , When the dissolu'de snowes downe the mountaines raine : And headlong runne t'ingulph them in the mayne : Or through the fire ; or indeed downe to hell ; If any place a hell may termed bee , That shall containe so heau'nly a thing as shee . But pre'thee tell me all . Thi : Here then . Am: Say on . Thi : Siluia ' at a Fount , starnak'd , and all alone Attends thy comming ; dare'st thou now goe thither ? Am: Siluia ? and all alone ? and staies for me ? Thi : Yes all alone , vnlesse haply there bee Daphne ' , who thou know'st is all in all for thee . ( ah do not Am: Naked ? Thir : I , naked , but. Am: But what ? Mangle me thus . Thir : Why but she does not knowe That you should meete her there ; though ( as I say ) Shee 'll there attend you , do but hast away . Am: Bitter conclusion ; that infects , and poysons What euer sweet thy former speeches promis'd , Why with such art Do'st thou delude me , cruell as thou art ? Is' t not enough Think'st thou for me thus full of griefe to be , But thou must come to mock my misery ? Thi : Be rul'd by me Aminta , and be happy ; Am: What should I doe ? Thi : Why not let slip that good That fortune ( much thy friend ) presents thee with . Am: The beau'ns forbid that euer I should do Ought to displease her ; nor yet euer did I The thing that iustly merited her frowne ; Vulesse it were my louing her so much ; Which yet if'twere a fault , was none of mine ; It was her beauties ; and by beau'n I vowe I meane not to begin to'offend her now . Thi : Why but yet tell me , if'twere in thy powre To leaue to loue her , wouldst thou do 't to please her ? Am: No sure ; loue will not let me say , or thinke That ere I should desist from louing her , Though'twere in my owne powre . Thi : Why an 't be so , In her dispight whether she will or no , Youl 'd loue her , Am: No , no , not in spight of her , But I would loue her . Thi : Yet against her will ? Am: Why yes , against her will . Thi : And wherefore then Dare you not take of her against her will , That which ( although't erkes thee at first to doo ) In th' end will quite thy paines and please her too . Am: Thirsis , let loue that speakes within my brest Make answer for me ; thou , ( through thy long vse Of reas'ning much of loue ) too suttle art For me ; loue tyes my tongue , who tyed my heart . Thi : Why then thou wilt not goe ? Am: Yes , yes , I 'le goe ; But not where you would haue me : Thi : Whether then ? Am ? To death ; if this be all y' haue done for me . Thi : Is this that I haue done then nothing worth ? And do'st thou thinke Daphne would counsaile thee To goe , vnlesse shee saw a little more Into thy Siluias heart , then thou and I ? Suppose shee has reueal'd her minde to her ; Thinke you shee would abide that any else Should know 't ? or know she knew it ere the more ? So that to couet an expresse consent On her part , thinke you not it were to seeke What in all reason must offend her most ? Where 's this your care then , and desire to please her ? Perhaps shee would that your delight should bee Your owne theft , not her gift ; what skil't I pray . Whether you haue it this , or th' other way ? Am: What certainty ' haue I that her minde is such ? Thi : See still how sillily you seeke to haue That certainty which must of force displease her ; And which 'boue all things else you should not craue : But who assures you to the contrary But that she may meane so as well as not ? Now if shee did , and that you would not goe ; ( Since both the doubts and dangers equall be ) Is not a valiant then a base death better ? Th' art mute ; th' art ouerthrowne ; Confesse it then ; Nor doubt but this thy ouerehrow will bee Th' occasion of a greater victorie . Go'we . Am: Stay . Thi : Why stay ? Know'st not how swiftly the time runnes away ? Am: Pre'thee lett 's thinke first what , and how to doe . Thi : Wee 'll thinke of all things as we goe ; but he That thinkes too much , does little , commonly . Chorus . O Loue , of whom , and where is taught This thy so doubtfull Arte , and long Of louing , that instructs the tounge At ease to vtter eu'ry thought . That the wilde fant' sie doth deuize ? Whilst with thy wings aboue the heau'n it flyes . The learned Athens taught it not ; Nor was it to Liceus knowne ; Apollo , god of Helicon For all his knowledge knew it not . Faint and colde is what he speakes , Nor from his voice such a fire breakes As doth thy greatnesse ( Loue ) befitt : Nor can his witt , Or thoughts vnto the height arise Of thy profounder misteries : Thou readst thine owne lesson best ( Great Loue ) and onely'art by thy selfe exprest . Thou of thy grace and bounty daynest T' instruct th' vnlearnedest , and plainest Men of thousands , how to see And reade those wondrous things that be Writ with thine owne hand in an others eyes . Thou teachest those thou louest best , A purer language then the rest , And with smoth ease to breath their fantasies . Nay often times , such is thy rare And most misterious eloquence , That in a confusd'e broken sence And halfe words that imperfect are , The heart is best reueal'd and seene ; And such perhaps mooue more by farr Then many words that better pollisht beene . Yea eu'ne Loues silence oft doth more expresse Then words could doe , the mindes vnhappinesse . ( Loue ) let others if they please Turne ore the workes of Socrates , And those great volumes of the wise ; While I but reade what 's writ in two faire eyes . Perhaps the penn that higher climes , Will but halt after the rimes , That in the rough and vncooth tree With my rude artlesse hand ingrauen bee .

Actus Tertius .

Scena Prima . Thirsis . Chorus . O Sauadge cruelty ' ; O th' ungratefull minde Of a most most vngratefull Mayde ; O Sexe Full of ingratitude : and thou lewd Nature , Nigligent mistresse , and maker of things , Wherefore , ah wherefore mad'st thou womankinde So faire , and sweet , and milde ouely without ; And didst forget to make their insides good ? Poore youth , I feare ' has made away himselfe Ere this ; alas I cannot finde him out : Three houres from place to place , & wher I left him Haue I bin seeking him ; but cannot finde Or him , or any print of his strai'd foot : Sure sure hee 's dead . I will goe aske yon Swaines I see , if they Can tell me any tydings of him . Friends Did you not see Aminta , or happly heare Newes of him lately ? Cho: Thou dost seeme to me Full of distraction , what is 't troubles thee ? How cam'st thou so'out of breath , and to sweat so ? What ayl'st thou ? say what is 't thou fear'st or wantest ; Thi : I feare Amintas harmes ; tell me I pray' Saw yee him not ? Cho: Not since he went with you A while agon , but what d' yee feare in him . Thi : Alas I feare Lest he haue slaine himselfe with his owne hand . Cho: Slaine with his owne hand ? how so ? what might cause Such vengeance on himselfe ? Thi : Why loue , and hate . Chor : Two powerfull enemies : What cannot they doe , when they meet together ? But speake yet clearer . Thir : His too much loue , and her too much disdaine Whom he lou'd so . Cho: Ah tell thy story out ; This is a way of passage , and ere long Perhaps some one will bring vs newes of him , Or himselfe come . Thi : I 'le tell it willingly ; For 't is not iust that such ingratitude Should rest without the due deserued blame . Aminta heard ( and I had told it him , And was his conduct too , the gods forgiue mee ) That Siluia was with Daphne gone to'a Founte To wash themselues ; thither then ( not without A thousand doubts and feares in him ) we went ; And twenty times we turn'd againe , ( his heart Being all against it , ) but that I was faine Almost against his will to force him onn ; But drawing neere vnto the Fount , we heard A sadd lamenting voice ; and all at once Daphne wee spy'de wringing her hands , and straite Seeing vs comming , ah runne , runne ( shee cryes ) Siluia's deflowr'd . Th' inamoured Aminta No sooner heard it , but swift as a Pard He flung away ; and I made after him : Nor farre we went , when loe before our eyes We saw the young mayde nak'd as at her birth , Fast fettr'd by the faire haire to a tree ; About whose branches in a thousand knotts The curles were link'd , and entertwin'de , the girdle That wont to decke , and guard her mayden loynes , Seru'd as an actor in her rauishment ; Binding her armes about the trees hard trunke , The tree it selfe became a helper too , For by her feete a branch or two grew out , Which ( easie bending ) both her tender leggs Had fastned to the tree ; and face to face A beastly Satyr stood ; who but eu'ne then Had newly made an ende of binding her , All the defence shee could ( poore soule ) shee made ; But sure'twould haue but little steeded her , Had not we come . Aminta with his dart Flue like a Lyon Vpon the Satyr ; and I gathered stones ; Whereat he fledd ; and gaue Aminta leasure To feast his greedy eyes with her faire limbes , Which trembling seem'd as tender , white , & soft , As vnprest curds new from the whay diuided . Full was her face of anger , griefe , and spight ; He gently accosting her with modest lookes , Spake thus ; O louely Siluia pardon me ; Fardon my hands for daring to approache So neere these beauteous limbes of thine ; alas It is necessity inforceth them , Necessitie t' unloose these bands of thine ; And let it ( I beseech thee ) not displease thee , That Fate has rais'd them to this happinesse . Cho: Words that would mollifie a heart of flint ; But what reply made shee ? Thir : Why none at all . But with a looke full of disdaine , hung downe The head , and hidd her faire lapp all shee could ; He stood vnbrayding her intangled ' tresses , And sighing said ( the whiles , ) O how vnworthy Is this rude trunke of so faire knots as these ? See what aduantage haue Loues votaries , That ( like this tree ) haue with so pretious bands Their hearts entwin'd : Cruell plant , couldst thouse se This haire thus iniur'd , that thus honours thee ? Then with his hands her hands he faire vnlooz'd , In such a sort , as that he seem'd affraide To touch them , yet desir'd to touch them still : Then stoop'd he downe t'untye her feet ; when shee Finding her late bound hands at libertie , Said with a scornefull , and disdayning looke ; Shepherd , I am Diana's ; touch me not ; Leaue me , I shall vnbinde my feete my selfe . Cho: Ah that the soft best of a mayde should harbor Such pride ; O Curtesie full ill repayde . Thir : Straite he with reuerence withdrew himselfe , Not lifting once his eyes to looke on her ; Barring himselfe of his delight ; that shee Might lay no blame on his immodestie . I that was hid neere hand , and saw all this , And heard it all , was eu'ne exclaiming on her , But that I curb'd my selfe ; see the strange creature ; After she was with much adoe got loose , Away shee hurryed strait , swift as a Doe , Without so much as ' Thanke yee , or farewell ; And yet knew well , shee had no cause to feare ; So modest and respectfull was Aminta . Cho: Why fled she then ? Th: Perhaps she thought it shew'd Better ; and argued more her modestie . Cho: Her foule ingratitude : but what did then , What said the poore Aminta ? Thir : I cannot tell . For ( angry ) after her I ranne amaine To haue oretane , and staid her ; but in vaine ; For soone I lost her ; and againe returning Vnto the Fountaine where I left Aminta , I found him not ; and my heart much misgiues me Of some selfe ill befalne him ; for I knowe He was resolu'd ( before this hapned him ) To ende his life and miseries together . Cho: It is the common vse and art of Louers To threaten their owne deaths ; but rarely shall Wee see th' effect in any of them all . Thi : Pray heau'ne he be not of those rare ones then . Cho: Tush feare him not . Thi : Well I 'le downe to the Caue Of the sage Elpine ; thither he perhaps Will be retyr'de , if he be yet aliue ; For there he went full oft to'allay and ease The rage of his bitter calamities , With the sweet sound of Elpines Reeds ; that winn And draw with their alluring voice , to heare them , The hard stones from the craggy mountaine topps ; Make flouds and waterfounts runne with pure milke ; And oft the rough bark'd trees against their kindes Distill sweet honny from their bitter rindes .

Actus Tertius . Scen : Secunda . Aminta , Daphne , Nerina . PIttilesse ( Daphne ) was that Pitty of thine , When thou held'st backe the dart ; because my death Will but more painefull be , the more delay'de : And now , why doest thou stay me trifling thus , And hold me ' in vaine with these thy long discourses ? If thou beest fearefull of my death , thou fear'st My happinesse . Daph. Leaue leaue Aminta This thy vniust despaire : I know her well ; And 't was her bashfulnesse , not cruelty , That made her runne away so fast from thee . Am: Ah that my onely friend must be Dispaire , Seeing that onely Hope hath bredd my ruyne : And yet it would be breeding in my brest Againe , and bid me liue ; when , what can bee A greater ill to so great misery , Then still to liue , but to be still vnhappy ? Da: Why liue yet , liue with thy vnhappines ; And beare it for thy greater happines When the time comes ; think what thou lately saw'st In the faire naked one , and let that serue thee For a reward sufficient for thy hope , And make thee in loue with life . Am: 'T was not enough For loue , and fortune , that I was before , So wretched , as I scarsly could be more ; But that I must be shew'd ( t' augment my ill ) Part of my blisse , yet go without it still . Ner : Must I be then the Rauen , and sinister Relater of so bitter newes ? O wretched , Wretched Montano ; ah what wilt thou do , When thou shalt heare the sad , and killing story Of thy owne only Siluia ? poore olde man , Most haplesse father of a hapless childe ; Ah now no father . Da: I doe heare a sad Lamenting voyce . Am: I heare the name of Siluia , That strikes mine eare , and my heart through at once ; But who is 't names her ? Da: 'T is I thinke the Nimphe Nerina , shee whom Dian loues so well , That has so liuely eyes , and louely hands , And so becomming a behauiour . Ner : Yet he shall know it ; and go gather vp Th' vnhappy reliques , ( if yet any be ; ) Ah Siluia Siluia , O accursed fate . Am: Ay mee , what meanes this Nimph ? what say's shee ? Ner : Daphne ? Da: Nerina ? what 's the matter that thou nam'st Siluia so oft , and sigh'st at eu'ry word ? Ner : There 's cause enough Daphne ; ah too too much . Am: Ay mee I feele , I feele my brest so full Of yce , my breath halfe stopt ; liues shee , or no ? Da: Tell vs all , tell the worst Nerina . Ner : O heau'n , Must I be then th' vnhappy ' historian ? And yet it 's fit I tell my sad tale out . Silu'ia starnak'd ( whereof yee know perhaps The cause ) came to our house , where being clad , Shee afterward desir'd me I would goe A hunting with her , as it was before Appointed , to the Groue of Okes , ( for so The place yee know is call'd ; ) I did agree ; And onn we went , and found there many Nimphes Gath'red together ; not farr off , behold Rusheth a huge Wolfe foorth , whose yawning iawes Foam'd with a bloudy froth ; Siluia then neare him Let flie a shaft at him ; and in his head The arrow light ; he tooke the wood againe , And shee at heeles persu'd him with a Dart Into the wood . — Am: Ah sorrowfull beginning , I feare , I feare a sad conclusion . Ner : I with an other Dart follow'd their footing ; But setting out too late , was cast farr off ; And hauing gain'd the wood , I lost the sight Of them ; yet kept their track , and ranne so farr , Till I was got into the desertest And thickest of the wood ; at length I found ( And tooke vp ) Siluias Dart vpon the ground ; And not farr off a white vaile , which ( ere while ) I did my selfe binde vp her haire withall ; And whilst I look'd about me ' , Ispi'de seu'n Wolues Licking bloud off the ground , that scatt'red lay About a few bare bones ; and 't was my hap To scape vnseene , while they so earnestly Minded their pray . I full of feare turn'd back , and came my way . And this is all that I can say of Siluia ; And heere 's the vaile . Am: Th' hast sayd , th' hast sayd enough ; O bloud , O vayle , O Siluia , ' dead dead — Dap : Poore youth he dyes ; he 's dead ; ay me he 's dead With griefe . Ner : He breath 's yet , he 's but in a traunce ; Tarry he comes againe t 'himselfe . Am: O griefe , Why do'st , why do'st thou thus torment me ? And wilt not end me ? th' art vniust . Perhaps Thou leau'st the worke to my owne hand : I am , I am content it shall be my owne care ; Since thou wilt not , or canst not doe 't ; Ay mee , Ay mee if nothing want to make this cleere , And nothing want to make my miseries Now brimfull ; why do ' I linger ? why do I stay ? O Daphne Daphne , was it to this end , This bitter , bitter end thou didst reserue me ? My death had then bin sweet , and pleasing to me , When thou and heau'n held back my Dart , and sau'd me ; Heau'n that was lothe ( belike ) I should preuent With death , the woes it has prepar'd for me ; But now't has done the very worst it can , I hope both heau'n , and you may suffer me To dye in peace . Da: Stay yet , stay wretch , and learne The trueth yet better . Am: Ah the trueth is such , ‛ Iue stay'd too long , alas I 'ue heard too much . Ner : Ay mee , wretch that I am , why did I speake ? Am: Gentle Nimphe , let me craue that vayle of thee , The poore remaynder of her ; they it may Accompanie me for these fewe sad houres Of way , and life yet left me ; and increase That martirdom , that were no martirdom Were it not much more then enough to kill me . Ner : Shall I denie 't , or shall I giue it him ? The cause he askes it for , bids me retaine it . Am: Cruell Nimphe , to deny me ' a grace so small In my extremity ; and eu'n I see How in each trifle fortune crosseth mee . I yeeld , I yeeld ; long may it bide with thee : Long liue yee ; my way to my death must bee . Da: Aminta stay , Aminta ' , a word Aminta , Harke , stay ; alas how swift he flyes away . Ner : He runnes so fast , t' will be in vaine for vs To follow him ; 't were best I onward went Vpon my way ; and yet perhaps 't were better I stay'd , and held my peace , then my selfe be Author of poore Montano's misery . Chorus . DEath , there is no neede of thee : Loue alone , and Constancie Ar enough ( without thy Dart ) To tyre vpon an honest heart . Yet so hard is not the way To Loues fame , as many say ; For Lone no price but loue regards ; And with it selfe , it selfe rewards . And oft in seeking it , is found Glory that liues , when we are vnder ground .

Actus Quartus .

Scena Prima . Daphne . Siluia . Chorus . NOw may the winde vpon his wings beare hence All ill may happen thee ; together with Th' accursed newes so lately spread of thee . Thou art aliue ( the gods be thanked fort 't ) And eu'n but now I did beleeue thee dead ; So had Nerina painted to the life Thy late hap ; but I would shee had bin dumbe , Or some that heard her deafe . Sil : Indeede I scap'd So narrowly , as I beleeue shee might Full well suppose me dead . Da: Suppose she might Yet not haue tolde it with such certainty . But tell me pre'thee how thou didst escape The danger so . Sil : Why I in following A Wolfe into the wood , had thickt with him So farr , till I at length had lost his track ; And as I stood thinking to turne againe Back as I went , I spide him , and I knew him By ' a shaft that stuck in 's head neere to his eare , Which I not long before had shot at him : He was accompany'd with many more , About the body of some beast new slaine ; But what beast 't was I knew not ; the same Wolfe I thinke knew me so well , that on he made Towards me with his head besmear'd with bloud . I bouldly stood , and bent a Dart at him , And when I thought his distance fit for me , I threw , but ( whether it was fortunes fault Or mine ) I mist him , as thou know'st I vse Not oft to do ; he fiercer then before Rusheth vpon me ; and was come so neere , That I , ( my shafts now spent ) found it too late To trust my bowe , and tooke me to my heeles : Away Tranne ; he follow'd me as fast . See now my hap ; a vaile that I had ty'de My haire withall , was halfe vndone , and flew At the windes pleasure loosely , that at length 'T had wound it selfe about a bough ; I felt That somewhat stay'd me ; but the feare I had , Redoubled so my strength , that though the bough Did all it could to hold me , I broke loose ; And as I left my vaile behinde , I left Part of my haire withall ; and so had feare Lent my feete wings , that I out-went the Wolfe , And came safe from the wood ; when turning home I met thee thus amaz'd , and am no lesse Amaz'd my selfe to see thee so . Da: Ay mee Thou liu'st , 't is well , would all were well besides . Sil : What ayl'st thou ? pre'thee art thou sory then That I 'm aliue ? Da: No ; that thou liu'st I 'm glad ; But for an others death I must be sad . Sil : How 's this ? for whose death ? Da: Why Aminta's death . Sil : Aminta dead ? alas how may that be ? Da: Nay how I cannot tell ; nor yet am sure Of the deede done ; but I beleeue it firmly . Sil : What 's this thou tell'st me ? alas what might be Th' occasion of Aminta's death ? Da: Thy death . Sil : Make mee conceiue thee . Da: Eu'n the heauy newes Of thy death , which he heard , and credited , Hath brought him to his end , some-way or other . Sil : Fye , th' art deceiu'd ; and this thy thought will be As vaine as was the newes thou heardst of me ; For surely no man will dye willingly . Da: O Silu'ia Siluia , thou dost not feele Nor know what ' loues flame can do , in a brest That is a brest of flesh , and not of flint As thine is ; for didst thou but know 't , I know Thou wouldst haue loued him that lou'd thee more Then both his eyes ; more then his breath and life ; I do beleeue it , nay I 'ue seene , and know it . I saw , I saw him when thou fledst from him ( Vnkinde and cruell as thou wert ) when he , Eu'n then when thou shouldst rather haue imbrac'd Then scorn'd him so , against his brest had bent His Dart , with full intent to kill himselfe : Nor any whit repented of the deede , When ( stay'd by me from farther wounding him ) The sharpe steele had his garment and his skinne Dyed in his bloud , and had pierc'd through that heart That loyall heart of his , that thou before Hadst wounded worse , had not I held his hand , And sau'd him all I could : but O alas That slight wound seru'd but as a triall only And small proofe of his desp'rate constancie ; And but to teach the fatall steele , to do The black deede it was preappointed to . Sil : Ay mee what 's this thou tell'st me ? Da: But at last When the newes came that thou wert dead , I saw him Sound at the hearing on 't , and dye away ; And came no sooner to himselfe againe , But furiously he flings away amayne ; And sure I feare , alas , too sure 't will prooue Has kill'd himselfe ; Such was his too much griefe , and too much loue . Sil : But hold'st thou this for certaine ? Da: T is too true . Sil : Ay me why didst thou not straite follow him ? And stay him ? ah let 's seeke , let 's finde him out ; Since from my death , his deaths desire is bredd , He must liue still because I am not dead . Da: Alas I follow'd him , but he had soone So farre outrunne me , as I now despaire That we shall finde him hauing lost his footing . Sil : We must alas we must inquire him out Some way or other speedily , least he Thorough our slownesse his owne murdrer be . Da: Belike then ( Cruell ) th' art but grieu'd he should Take from thee th' honour of this goodly deede ? And would'st thy selfe be the braue murdresse ? Must no hand else but thine , an Actor be In th' execution of this Tragedy ? Well , set thy heart at rest ; for howso're He dyes , thou art his onely murderer . Sil : Ah thou dost wound me ; and thy eu'ry word Addes to the agony'e of my bleeding brest , Strooke through with feare of him ; and with the bitter Remembrance of the sauadge cruelty In me , which I call'd honesty ' , and so 't was , But too seuereit was , and rigorous ; I finde it now , alas I now repent it . Da: What 's this ? what do I heare ? Why thou art pittifull then , and thy heart Seemes to haue feeling of anothers harmes ; What doe I see ? Why thou do'st weepe too ; I 'm amaz'd at this ? Whence ar these teares ? Is' t loue that causes them ? Sil : 'T is pitty , 't is compassion causes them . Da: Compassion is the messenger of loue , As is the lightning of the thunder clap . Cho: 'T is often times the property of loue When he would creepe vnseene into young hearts Which austere Chastity hath long time shut And barr'd against him , to assume the habit And semblance of his handmayd Pitty ' , and so Deceiues them ere they be aware , and gets Into their brests vnknowne and vndiscry'de . Da: These ar loue-teares ( Siluia ) they flow so fast ; Do'st thou not loue indeede ? ha ? not a word ? Yes , 't is too true , but alas 't is too late . Behold the strange wayes of Loues chastisement ; Wretched Aminta , thou that ( like the Bee , Which hurting dyes , and in an others wound Leaues his owne life , ) hast with thy death , at last Pierc'd that hard heart , which liuing felt thee not . But if , O erring Spirit , ( as I feare Thou art , and seuer'd from thy empty corse ) Thou wandrest here abouts ; behold her playnts ; Liuing thou lou'dst her , see shee loues thee dead . And if thy cruell fate would haue it so , That thy loue could not be repay'd till now , And that her loue was onely to be purchas'd By thee at this deare price ; let it suffice thee ( Where more thou canst not haue ) that thou hast bought it As dearely now , as shee could rate it thee ; Euen with thy death . Cho: Deare bargaine for the buyer ; And all vnprofitable , and infamous Vnto the cruell seller . Sil : O that I Could with my loue redeeme his life againe , Or with my life his life , if he liue not . Da: O pitty , O discretion , too late bredd ; Little auaile they to reuiue the dead .

Actus Quartus . Scen : Secunda . Nuntius , Chorus , Siluia . Daphne . I Am so full of woe , so full of borror As all I heare and whatsoere I looke on Me thinks afflicts , disquiets , and affrights me . Cho: What strange newes brings this man , that seemes to me So troubled in his lookes , and in his speech ? Nun : I bring the sad newes of Aminta's death . Sil : Ay me what sayes he ? Nun : Aminta noblest Shepherd of these woods ; That was so comely and so gratious ; So deare vnto the Nymphes , and to the Muses ; And dead but eu'ne a ladd . Cho: Ah of what death ? Tell vs , ah tell all ; that we may in one Lament with thee his mischiefe , and our owne . Sil : Ay me my heart failes me ' ; I dare not approach Th' unwelcome newes which I of force must heare . Vilde breast of mine , ohdurate heart of mine , What fear'fl thou now ? go hard'ly , presse vpon The murth'ring kniues that are in yon mans tongue ; And there display thy fiercenes ? freind , I come To beare my part of all the woe thou bringest ; Perhaps it does concerne me more by much Then th' art aware of ; It belongs to me ; Grutch me not on 't then . Nun : Nimphe I doe beleeue thee ; For eu'ne vpon his death , I heard the wretch Call still vpon thy name to his last breath . Da: Now , now beginnes , the heauy history . Nun : I was vpon the middes of yon high hill , Where I had spred abroad some netts of mine To drie them , when not far off from me , came Aminta by , with a sad clowdy looke , And altred much from what he wont to bee Both in his face and fashion ; which I spying Ranne after him ; and staying him , quoth hee Ergastus thou must doe a curtesie For me of much importance and auaile ; 'T is to goe with me but a little hence , For witnesse of a deede I haue to doo ; But first I 'le haue thee binde thy faith to me By a strict oath to stand aloofe from mee And not approach to lett or hinder that That I shall do : I ( that could nere haue dream't Of such a furious madnesse in him ) yeelded To 's will ; and made desperate inuocations Calling to witness Pan , and Priapus : Pales , Pomona ' , and nightly Hecate , Which done , he led me higher vp the hill : Where , clambring through wilde rocky passages , ( By wayes nere found , and neuer trode before ) Wee gayn'd the top , that ouer-hung a valley , 'Twixt which and vs was a steepe precipice , And there we stay'd ; I casting downe mine eye , Began for feare to tremble , and shrunke back . After a little pause , he smil'de me thought , And seem'd more cheerefull then he was before ; And that made me misdoubt him lesse then euer : After that ; ( quoth he to me ) see thou tell The Nimphes and Shepherds what thou shalt behold ; Then looking downe , Ah that I had ( sayd he ) So ready at my will , the throat and teeth Of those same greedy Wolues , as these rocks be ; I would not dye of other death , then she Who was my life ; nor haue my carkass torne But by those teeth that tore those delicate And beautious limbs of hers ; but since that heau'n Denies so great a blessing to me , I Must be content some other way to dye ; And though a worse way , yet a speedier . Siluia I follow thee , Siluia I come To beare thee comapny , If thou disdaine me not ; O I should dye Much more contentedly ; were I but sure My follow'ing thee would not disquiet thee , And that thy hate had ending with thy life : Siluia I follow thee , I come . Which sayd , Downe from the place he headlong threw himselfe , And I turn'd yee to see 't . Da: Wretched Aminta . Sil : Ay mee , ay mee . Cho: Why didst not hinder him ? Perhaps the oath thou took'st barr'd thee to doo 't ? Nun : Not so ; for setting all such oathes at nought , ( Vaine doubtlesse in such cases ) when I saw Whither his fond and headdy madnesse tended , I reacht at him ; and ( as ill hap would haue it ) Layd hold but of this thinne scarfe , wherewithall He girt himselfe ; which ( all too weake to beare His bodies weight , that rested all vpon 't ) Remayn'd broke in my hand . Cho: And what became Of the vnhappy carkass ? Nun : I know not ; For I was so dead strucken at the sight , As my heart would not suffer me , to looke And see him dasht to peeces . Cho: O strange fate . Sil : Ay mee , were I not made of stone indeede , This newes would kill me . Ah if the false death Of me that car'd no more for him , was cause Enough to end his life ; Much more cause is there that the certaine death Of him that lou'd me so , should be enough To end my life ; and it shall end my life ; And if griefe cannot do 't , the sharpe steele shall ; Or else this girdle heere , which iustly stayes As loath to follow his sweet Masters ruines , Till it haue done on me the due reuenge Of his sad death , and my ingratitude . Vnhappy girdle ( relique of a more Vnhappy Master ) ah do not disdaine T' abide a while with one so odious ; For thou shalt stay but to be th' instrument Of his reuenge , and of my punishment . I might haue bin , alas I should haue bin Yoke-fellow with Aminta heere on earth ; But since that cannot be , by thy helpe now I 'le finde him out among th' infernall shades , And there goe beare him better company . Cho: Content thee ( thou sad soule ) 't is Fortunes fault , And not by thy meane , that this ill is wrought . Sil : Shepherds why plaine yee ? if yee moane my woes , I do deserue no pitty ; that haue bin My selfe so pittilesse ; if yee wayle the death Of the poore Innocent , ab tis too small ; Griefe is too poore to pay his deede withall . And Daphne thou I prethee dry thy teares ; If for my sake thou weep'st ; for my sake cease . And for his sake that was a thousand times More worth then I ; and go along and helpe me To finde th' vnhappy bones ; and bury them ; 'T is that alone that keepes me still aliue , And that I do not eu'n now kill my selfe . It is the least and last duty is left For me to do him , for the loue he bore me ; And though this vile hand of mine , might perhaps Blemish the pi'ety of so iust a deede ; Yet he I know will like the deede the better , For being done by it ; for I am sure He loues me still ; his death assures it me . Da: I am content to'assist thee 'in seeking him , But talke ( for heau'ns sake ) of this death no more . Alas wee 'ue had too much of that before . Sil : Till now I 'ue liu'd only vnto my selfe , And my owne wayward humor : for the rest , I vowe it all to'Aminta ; and if to him I may not , I 'le liue yet to his colde carkass , Till I haue done it the last obsequies : So long I may ; longer I will not liue . But Shepherd set me in the way ( I pray' ) Vnto the valley at the high hills foote . Nun : There O'th at hand 't is , and not far from hence . Da: I 'le goe along and guide thee , for I well Remember't . Sil : Farwell Shepherds , Nimphes farwell ; Farwell woods , fields , and flocks ; farwell , farwell . Nun : This mayden speakes me thinkes in such a straine , As if shee went nere to returne againe . Chorus . LOue ; thou reioyn'st what Death vnbinds ? ( Thou freind of Peace but shee of Bloud ; ) Yet thou her Triumphes ouer raignest ; And in vniting gentle mindes , Mak'st Earth so heau'nly an abode , As thou to dwell among vs daynest : Thou smooth'st the rugged hearts of men ; And inward rancors driu'st away ( Great prince of happy peace ; ) and when Milde breasts are troubled , do'st allay Their woes ; and by thy working strange , Framst of things mortall , an eternall change .

Actus Quintus .

Scena Prima . Elpine , Chorus . DOubtlesse the lawes where with Loue gouerneth His Empire euermore , are neither hard To follow , nor vniust ; and those his workes Which many men do condemne wrongfully , Are full of prouidence , and mistery , Lo with what art , And by how many vnknowne waies , he leades His votaries vnto their happinesse ; And placeth them among the highest ioyes And pleasures of his amorous Paradise , When oftentimes they feele themselues sunk downe Eu'ne to the very bottome of all ills . Behold Aminta with his headlong fall , Aspires vnto the top of all delight ; O happy ' Aminta ; and so much the more Happy now , as vnfortunate before . This thy example makes me hope no lesse , That once at last my louelesse faire ( that couers Vnder those freindly smiles , such cruelty ) Will with true pitty heale the wounds , that shee Hath with her fained pittie made in me . Cho: Yon is the reu'rend Elpine ; and me thinkes Speakes of Aminta ' as if he were aliue , Calling him happy , blest , and fortunate , Ah hard condition of vnhappy louers ; He belike counts him fortunate , that dyes For loue , and is belou'd ( when he is dead ) Of her he lou'de so well ; and this he calls The paradise of loue ; O with how light And poore rewards the wing'd Loue-god contents His seruants . Art thou ( Elpine ) then indeed In such a pittifull estate , as that Thou canst terme fortunate , the miserable Death of the poore Aminta ? and wouldst thou So farr thy life to loues subiection bowe , And vndergoe the like fate ? Elp : Freinds be merry What of his death perhaps ye haue heard , is false . Cho: That were a welcome newes . Did he not throw himselfe downe headlong then From yon high Mountaines topp ? Elp : T is true he did . But 't was a fortunate and happy fall ; That look'd so like death , and is proou'd to him Not life alone , but a most ioyfull life ; For now he lyes lull'd in the tenter lapp . Of his beloued one that seemes much more Fonde of him now , then she was coy before ; Drying each teare he lets fall , with a sighe , Or with the like , freindly requiting it . But I am going to finde out Montane Her Father , and conduct him where they bee ; For there wants nothing else but his consent , To both their boundlesse ioyes accomplishment . Cho: Their age , their bloud and birth , their mutuall loues , And all agree ; and the good oulde Montano Will he glad doubtlesse of posteritie , And to ' arme his gray haires with so sweet a guard , So that his will no doubt shall second theirs . But thou ( good Elpine ) tell what god , what fate In that so dangerous , and deadly fall Prescru'd Aminta . Elp : I am well content ; Heare then , heare that which with these eyes I saw ; I was before my Caues mouth , which ye knowe Lyes at the hills foote , on the valleyes brimme ; There Thirsi' and I were reasoning together Of the faire shee that in the selfe same nett Had first insnar'd him , and me afterward ; When I preferring my lou'de seruitude Before his free state ; all at once we heard A shreeke ; and saw a man fall frbm aboue , Vpon a bushy knowle ; for on the side Of the steepe hill , there growes ( all of a heape , And as 't were woue tog ther , ) a round masse Of brambles , thornes , and certaine weedes among ; There first he light before he lower fell ; And though hee made way through them with his weight , And fell downe to the ground before our feete ; Yet so that stop abated the falls force , As 't was not mortall ; though so dangerous As that he lay a while deuoyd of sense , And as a dead man without show of motion . We with amazement , and compassion were Dumbe-strucken at the sudden spectacle : And knowing him , and knowing soone ( with all ) He was not dead , nor perhas like to die , Appeaz'd his woe , and eas'd him all we could ; Then Thirsis made me throughly ' acquainted with Th' whole passage of his loues . but while we sought To bring him to himselfe againe , and sent To fetch Alphesibeo ( t' whom Appollo Tanght th' art of Phisicke , when he gaue his Harp And Lute to me ) came Daphne , and Siluia , Who ( as I heard ) had bin to seeke him out Whom they suppos'd dead . But when Siluia Had found and knew him , and beheld his cheekes And lips so bloudlesse , and discoloured , As the wanne Violet's hue their paleness past ; And saw him languish , as if then he had Bin drawing his last breath ; shee gaue her sorrowes A liberall passage through her earnest cryes ; And beating her faire brest , falls downe vpon him , Laying her face on his , and on his lipps Her lipps . Cho: And did not bashfull shame restraine Her more , who is so strict and so seuere ? Elp : Bashfulnes oft barrs weak loues of their longings , But is too weake a curbe for a strong loue . But then , as if her eyes had bin two fountaines , She drown'd his colde face with her powring teares ; Whose water was of so great force , and vertue , That he reuiu'd ; and op'ning his dimme eyes , He sighes foorth a hollow ' Ay mee , from the bottome Of his sad brest ; shee caught the heauy sound Of that same bitter breath ; and mingled it With her sweet breath ; and so restor'd , and heal'd him . Then ; who can say ? who can imagine what Both of them thought , and at that instant felt ? Each now assur'd of others life ? and he Assur'd of her loue , and to finde himselfe Intangled in so lou'd , and louing armes ? He that loues firmly may imagine it , Yet hardly too ; but no tongue sure can tell it . Cho: Is then Aminta safe belike , and well , And so cleare from all danger of his death ? Elp : He 's safe , and well ; saue that he has a little Battred his flesh , and somwhat scratcht his face ; But 't will be nothing ; and he wayes it not . Thrise happy he , t' haue giu'n so great and high A signe , and earnest of his Constancie ; And now inioyes the fruit of his firme loue ; To which his sad indurings , and paines past , Prooue pleasing and sweet sawces at the last . But peace be wi' yee ' ; I must goe seeke about Till I haue found the good Montano out . Chorus . I Know not whether the much sowre This ( now blest ) Louer ( seruing , burning , Now dispairing , and still mourning ) Hath felt ; may in one happy ' houre Be thoroughly repay'd againe With pleasure equall to his paine . But if the good more pleasing be , And come more welcome , after wee Haue felt the ill ; I doe not craue ( O Loue ) this happiness to haue . Let others be so blest by thee , And graunt the Nimph I loue , may bee Wonne with a little lesse adooe ; Less pray'rs , less seruice when I wooe ; And let the sawce to our loues , be Not so much paine , and misery : But sweet disdaines , repulses sweet ; Fall off a little , and straite meete . That after a short frowne or twayne , New peace , or truce may knit our hearts againe .

Th' end of Tasso's Aminta .