CHORUS

Oh Sweet age of gold, not sweet, for that by the pastures Every brook and bush with milk and honey abounded; Nor that fertile ground vntild, vntutcht was afording Fresh increase of fruit to the pooremans daily rejoicing; Nor that stingles snakes and harmless slippery serpents Slided abroad by the fields and never breathed any poison; Nor that clowdles skies seemed evermore to be smiling, And eternal Spring her springtime daily renewing; Nor that no pyne-trees as yet cut down from the mountains Ranged abroad by the rocks with salt waves all to be dashed: But sweet age of gold, for that this name of a nothing, Idle name of nought, and daily deceauable Idol, Which fools afterwards, fine-fools have made to be Honour, Was nor named, nor known, nor brought new laws to the country And poor countrymen, whose lives were only directed By sweet Nature's law, sweet Nature taught them a lesson, If you will, you may: and strait-lac't rules did abandon. Then by the green-mantled pastures and watery fountains Loves young wanton waggs were always wont to be singing, And had no light lamps, and had no dangerus arrows. Then brave jolly Shepherds and Nymphs sat sweetly together, Tempering words with smiles; and every smile with a kissing. Nymphs were not so nice, but that they yielded a full view Of their bared breasts to the searching eyes of a lover. Girls were not so coy, but that they would with a younker Friendly together wash, and bath themselves in a river. Honour first covered wellspring of lovely Cupido, Honour plucked water from scorched mouth of a Lover, Honour taught fair eyes their glittering beams to be hiding, And to the darkened soul their light unkindly denying. Honour caught in nets those golden locks, that in old time Were leaft lose to the wind dispersed along by the shoulders. Honour marred our mirth, and louelayes turned to a silence, And all our pastimes to a sollempne gravity changed. Honour taught us first our mouths by art to be moving, Looks by a looking glass, and gate with skill to be framing. Honour called it a theft, which first was counted a free gift, Honour made it a crime, which first was thought but a pastime. But thou supreme Lord of Love, thou only Monarcha, Which rulest mighty Monarchs, what dost thou here in a corner, For so great a Godhead o too too simple a corner? Go to a proud Diadem, to a golden crown, to a sceptre, Break those great men's sleep; so shall thy fame be the greater: Disgrace not thyself with poor contemptible abjects, But let Country-fools live as they used to be living, Let them live in love, while they have time to be loving. Sun sets, and riseth; goes down, and quickly reviveth, But men light once out, eternal darkness abideth: Then let Country-fools live as they used to be living, Let them live in love, while they have time to be loving. Oh Heart-ennobling great love, where shall we be learning These thy sacred laws? in what school must we be trained Up to thy high conceits? or what so skilful a master Possibly may unfold those supreme thoughts of a lover Which his soul possess, while with thy wings in a moment His mind mounts to the skies, and Crystal-mantled Olympus? Neither learned Athens, nor great fame-worthy Lycoeus. Could loves force express, or loves perfection utter; Neither Castalian Muses, nor great-God Apollo, Nor rymewright singers could once aspire to the thousandest Partly of those joys, which in a lovers breast be abounding: Their voice is not a voice of fire, they sing but a cold song, Song and voice unfit for loves unspeakable ardor: So then Loves own voice is a fittest voice for a loues-lay, So then Love himself is best expressed by his oneself. Love learns rural wits, and baseborn breasts to be reading Heartburning secrets and wonders, daintily written In fair-flaming eyes, by the hand of lovely Cupido. Love (o strange eloquence of Love) with a sighs, with and half-speech, Interrupted speech, confused speech of a Lover, Sooner a Tigers heart to a true compassion urges, Better a secret smart and inward passion vttreth, Than trope-turned tale, or rhyming ditty, deryued From foolhardy Poets, or vain-head Rhetoricasters. Nay, those silent looks, and lovely regards of a Lover More, than a thousand words, express those pangs of a Lover. Let those famous Clercks with and endless toil be perusing Socratical writings; two fair eyes teach me my lesson: And what I read in those, I do write in a Bark of a beech-tree, Beech-tree better book, than a thousand Dainty devises. Some bade misfortune thy mind seems greatly to trouble: What mean's this sweating and blowing? Fearest any mischief? Nobody here saw him, since you two lately departed. But what mischief fearest? Thyrs. That Amyntas murder Amyntas. Murder Amyntas. Why? What works so desperate outrage? But show all at large: this place is and ordinary thoroughfare: Here some man may pass that may bring news of Amyntas, And some wind himself may hither chance to be driving. Words well worthy to make any heart of flint to be tender: But what said Phillis? Thyrs. Not a word; but scornfully blushing Looks down, hiding all that bans would have to be hidden. Gentle Amyntas coms, and golden locks he releaseth, And as he unknits knots, thus golden-locks he beespeaketh, Golden locks too good this senseless tree to be chaining, What shall Lovers have, wherein they may be triumphing, If loves-lace can abide to be stretched from a Nymph to a willow? Paltry willow breaks with rude and boisterous handling, Golden chain, which gave such grace to the paltry willow. Then those hard-held hands in such odd manner he loosed, As that he wished and feared hart-holding hands to be handling. Lastly, to free her feet, himself he begins to be kneeling: But when Phillis her hands from bans felt fully released, His loving service with these proud words she refused, Touch me not, hence Pastor, mine own hands shall be my own legs Freedom, touch not a Nymph, that's consecrate unto Diana. Oh graceless guerdon for service dutiful offered, How can a Nymphs sweet breast harbour so filthy a monster? What did he then poor man, when Phillis leaft him alone thus? That's but and ordinary thing, for a lover death to be threatening, But not and ordinary thing any man for love to be dying. When pyty runneth afore, love always hasteneth after: And now Phillis loves, since Phillis now pyty-taketh. Price to the buyer deer, and shameful price to the seller. What's this new men news, that makes him look thus amazed? And why staidest him not? wast fear, thy oath to be breaking? Oh but where's that corpse, and bruised bones of Amyntas? Oh strange news indeed, breakneck, breakheart of Amyntas. Poor distressed soul, forbear thyself to be plaguing: His fact, not thy fault, drew his confusion onward. There: and hill stands thence but a little more than a furlong, This Nymph takes her leave, as though these so many farewells Were her last farewell, which should cause deadly departure. Sage Elpinus coms, and speaks strange words of Amyntas, As, that he were yet alive; and thinks his state to be happy, For that he died for love, and by death, bought to be loved. Bitter bower of bliss, where monstrous murder aboundeth, Loving fools Paradise, that leaves his life to be loved. What means Elpinus so woeful and end to be wishing? What, did he not leap down? Elp. Yes down to his only desired Joys, and passed by the shade of a fearful death, to a heaven, And now leaneth his head on breast of sweet bony Phillis, Sweet bony Phillis now, more loving now by a thousand Parts, then lovels afore; and sucks those sweetly beseeming Tears from Phillis her eyes, with a mouth with Nectar abounding. And now nothing else is wanting unto the full joy Of thease loving souls, but that Montanus is absent; And Montanus I seek, whose word makes absolute ending. Their years are aequal, and their affection aequal, And both learned alike: o, now Montanus is happy Happy to have this stay and comfort unto his old age. But show yet, what luck, what God so saved Amyntas. Was not Phillis abashed, unseemly to lie on Amyntas? Is then Amyntas saulfe, that he needs not fear any danger? IF that such sour sauce for sweetest meats be reserved; If that Amyntas must serve, love, weep, die for a Phillis, If those great pleasures with great pains must be procured, Then, good love, geaue those great matters unto the greate-men. Let my Love soon love; let a sawdrey lace, or a thymble, Or young nightingale suffice my fancy to further: Let not such torments and martyrdoms be required My poor simple joys, and pleasures lowly to season: But sweet-bitter words, but kind and lovely repulses, And such falling out, as may be a speedy renewing And fresh increasing of love: let such be the loving Wars, and wars, as peace and truce may end in a moment. Oh, let us hear it, Oh, let us hear it alas, that we may all be a mourning His mischance, our grief. Phil. Oh deer God, I dare not approach him, Least that I hear these news, yet these news must I be hearing. Heart of stone, hard heart, cursed heart, what makes thee be fearing? Go and encounter these knives, these darts that he brings In soul-wounding tongue, there show thyself to be stony. Pastor, I come for partly of thease news rightly belonging Unto my damnable heart, and endue, more endue to my hearing Than thou canst conceive; then spare not freely to give it.