DAPHNE

Fine sweet sports indeed for a girl, and wise pretty pastimes, Still to be killing beasts, and still by the woods to be ranging. This life, toilsome life, for a while does seem to be pleasant, Only because as yet thou hast not tri'de any other. So those simple souls that lived when Jove was and infant, Took for pleasant drink, and meat well worthy a men mouth, Streams of purling brooks, and nutbrown kernel of accorne: But now, streams of brooks, and nutbrown kernel of accorne Are contemn'de as drink and meat but fit for a beasts mouth, Since that corn and grapes were once known how to be used. If thou couldst, nay wouldst (and who would not, but a fonkin?) Only but one time taste, and but taste only the thousandest Partly of those pleasures and joys, which still be abounding In true-lovers soul, when he feels himself to be loved, Thou wouldst quickly repent, and quickly bewray thy repentance, And say thus with tears; Each lovels life is a luckless And accursed life: my best days vainly be ended, Flowering time is gone, and age creeps hastily onward. How-many fruitless nights, poor fool, did I waste as a Widow? How-many ioyles days as a Nun did I draw to the eunyng? Days, to be passed away with winged boys pretty pastimes, Nights to be spent with toys and joys of lovely Cupido, Pastimes, toys, and joys, which more joyed breed me the more joy. Change this mind, fond wench, and this resolution altar. See what it is to be young; girls always use to be peevish: So was I in times passed, (Good time ill passed) when I wanted Age and experience, and so did I trudg to the forest. Golden locks, cherylips, red-white face, ivory fingers, Proud as a praised Peacock, and so did I trudg to the forest. Nets were then my delight, and bent bow my rejoicing, Pointed darts my joy, and slaughtered beasts my triumphing. If that I saw myself (myself unluckily selfwilde) But by a glance, one glance of a Lovers eye to be noted, Down did I hang my head, and bow mine eyes to my bosom, Soar displea'sd forsooth, and, God wot, greatly abashed When my pleasing face to a loves look brought any pleasure, As though to were some fault, or shame, or mock to my ownself, For to be looked upon, to be loved, and sought for of others. But what can not time effect? What can not a lovers Continual wooing, long serving, daily deserving Bring by degrees at length, at length, to a fortunate ending? Phillis, I must confess, at last I began to be yielding Unto a Loves conquest: and these arms made me be yielding, Long patience, kindness, sighs, tears, importunate askings. Then did a night, one night, one short night teach me a lesson, Which many thousand days would never let me be learning: Then did I quickly repent, and quickly bewray my repentance, And say thus with tears: Now farewell mighty Diana, Bows and shafts I renounce, and brutish life I abandon. So, I do hope, one day, thy gentle-minded Amyntas Shall with abundant tears make thy hard heart to be tender; And why should not I hope, when I see joust matter of hoping? Is not Amyntas fair? is he not loved of many Lasses? Doth not he love Phillis? yet Phillis love's not Amyntas: And yet, alas, neither thy hate, nor love of and other Can withdraw his love: And, if thou look to thy gentry, As sweet Cydippe is known to be truly thy mother, Cydippe daughter to the sacred God that abideth In this silver brook; so, father of hapless Amyntas Was good Sylvanus, Sylvanus son to the great Pan, Pan the shepherd's great God, that rul's and reign's by the forest. And, if Phillis chance to behold her face in a fountain, Phillis will not seem more fair then fair Amaryllis: And Amaryllis fair loves gentleminded Amyntas; And Amaryllis love is still contemned of Amyntas, For that, Phillis love still rests in soul of Amyntas, Although Phillis alas hates her truelouer Amyntas. Now suppose for a while (God grant it prove but a suppose) That Phillis sour looks drive of this love of Amyntas, And Amaryllis love draw on this love of Amyntas, And that Amyntas kiss, kiss and embrace Amaryllis, And laugh at Phillis: what then will Phillis imagine? Love breed hate? Sweet Sire of a most unnatural offspring And vile degenerate bastard: but when will a white swan Hatch any coalblack crow? or meek sheep foster a Tiger? Why then, stiffnecked bull is a foe, not a Friend to a heifer, And to a Turtledove, not a Friend, but a foe is a Turtle. Why then sweet springetyme breeds hate and works many mischiefs, Sweetesmyling springtime, that wills each thing to be loving, World and all in world; o see how sweetly the Pigeon There with a murmur sweet his copsemate sweet is a wooing. Mark that Nightingale, which hops from the briar to the hawthorn, Harck, how bravely she sings, I do love, and love to be lovely, Nay even fell serpents with cursed poison abounding, Strong and sturdy Lions, and Tigers fierce be a loving: And yet Phillis alas Phillis more fierce than a Tiger, Worse than a wild Lioness, and more vnkyn'de than a serpent, Phillis lives still alone, and can not abide to be lovely. But strong sturdy Lions, fierce Tigers, slippery serpents Have sense and feeling, therefore no wonder at all, if Serpents, sturdy Lions, and Tigers fierce be a loving: Oh then look to the trees, and learn of them to be lovely, Look to the senseless trees, and mark how dearly the vinetree Loves her loving elm, and clips him fast with a thousand Thousand embracements, and beech-tree cleaves to the beech-tree, And wil'de ash to the ash, and pinetree lean's to the pinetree. Yea that broadebrauncht oak which stands so stoordyly pitched, And seems rude and rough, not moved with a storm or a tempest, Yields to a kind of love; and, if thou were but a little Tutcht with love, thou mights perceive his lovely bewailings, And secret groanings: and wilt thou then be for all this Worse then a senseless tree, and never learn to be lovely? Change this mind, found wench, and this resolution altar. 'Tis but a folly I see, to be wasting wyn'de on a proud girl, That knows nought her self, and will not learn of another. Thou that makest but a jest of love, hereafter, I doubt not, Wilt full soar lament, and fyn'de all true that I tell thee: When thou shalt for shamesly back from the watery fountains, Back from the springs where now thou seest thy face to be shining, For very shame and grief to behold thy beauty decayed And face all wrynckled: that's bade, but that's but a common Mischief, look in time that a worse plague light not upon thee. I'll say nought; but I woe what news were truly reported By sage Elpinus last day, to the lovely Lycoris: And he reported afore Corydon and Alphesiboeus Twooe greatest masters of loves laws, and he reported In fair Aurora's great Cave, whose beautiful entrance Hath these words engran'd by the hand of lovely Cupido, (This place is sacred, for lovers only appointed) There Elpinus said, and said that he herd it of old time Of that great pastor, (great man, whose sweetly resounding Pipe did pass from the fields and sang of martial horrors,) How that in hels deep pit, foul fyends have framed a dungeon, All as black as pitch, and all as dark as and oven, Hard by the ioyles banks where smokes and fogs be arising From wailing Acheron: and there these no-pyty-taking Dams and scornful girls are all condemned to be plagued, All tormented there in dungeons ugly for ever. There fit place, fair walks for Phillis shall be prepared: There shall fogs, and mystes, and smokes, and palpable horror Wring out tears from her eyes, and force her still to be wailing, Whom no lovers smart, no grief could make to be weeping. And i'll hoame, for and hour or two: and then to the Hunting, Then to the parck we'll go: in mean time mark what I told thee More than parcks and wells, and, if simplicity blind thee, Know thy not knowing; so, mayest thou know of and other. What skilful Mistress taught them this mystery, Thyrsis? Whats her name? Thy. Daphne. Dap. Fie, that's impossible. Thy. And why? Is not dame Daphne trow you, to be deemed a Mistress Sufficient t'enstruct ten thousand such bony lasses? Though in truth they want no skill, nor need any mistress, Coy by kind, and proud by birth, and surly by nature. Yet nurse and mother contend this folly to further, And so make in time young cockrell like to the old crow. Well crowed, gentle Cock: your song may chance be requited: But to the matter in hand, in truth, in truth I remember One odd toy, Thyrsis, that makes me scarcely resolved, Whether Phillis fain and make but a show of a symplesse, Or for a truth does mean as in outward show she pretendeth. For, last day when I went to the green fyeld near to the cytty, Phillis sat her down by the brook that runs by the green fyeld, And so her countenance composed, as though she required Counsel from that brook, and would, b'aduisd by the water, How to be disposing, and how to be daintily ordering Gold wyr'de hair on her head, and how with skill to be setting Call on gold wyr'de hair, and how at last to be sticking Flowers in a golden call, (her lap with flowers was abounding) And now takes up a Rose, and straight way takes up a Lily: And compares her cheeks to the Rose, and neck to the Lily: And then smiles for joy, seeing her louly triumphant Cheeks more read than a Rose, and neck more white than a Lily, And disdaigns poor flowers, and thus seems them to be scorning, Foolish paltry herbs, your pyde coat's nought to my countenance, Your flowers nought to my face, your bravery nought to my beauty, Foolish paltry weeds, I do bear you often about me, For your own disgrace, and not for a grace to my person, That your fading flowers may serve as a foil for a Phillis. As she was all this while pruning herself by the water, Princking and pranking, at last by chance she reflected Her bright beams sydeward, and then saw well, that I saw her, And was ashamed and blushed, and let fair Lily be falling. More that Daphne laughed, more Phillis still was a blushing, More that Phillis blushed, more Daphne still was a laughing. Buy yet, her hair half trest, half vntrest well she remembered, And with a stealing eye to the waterglasse she repaired, Spying whither I spied; and see's herself to be undressed, And yet likes herself, seeing herself to be seemly Though undressed, for I saw, yet would not seem to be seeing. No news? yes marry is't: for no such matter in old time Ever afore was seen: When Daphne was but a Damsel Dapne was not so: but world now waxes and old world, Grows to be wayward now, and peevish Like to and old man. Thyrsis, I am not sure; she's too too flatly denying. Then let him ask, entreat, importune, nay let him offer, Yea offer violence, and take no nay; for a woman Loves to be wooed of a man: thou knowest well, Thyrsis, a woman Runs, and yet so runs, as though she desired to be overrun; Says, no, no; yet so, as no, no, seems to be no no; Stryues, and yet so stryues as though she desired to be vanquished. Woeman's Like to a shade, that flies, yet lies by the subject, Like to a Be, that never strives, if sting be removed. Thou seest, Thyrsis, I talk as a plain wench unto a plain Friend. Well to be plain indeed, and end this matter in one word, Phillis goes with me now by and by to the brave well, Mighty Diana's well, where largearm'd ash to the hunting Nymphs gives cooling shade; there Phillis shall be presented Naked, starcknaked to the open view of Amyntas. Then let Amyntas stay, till and other seek to prevent him. But to thyself Thyrsis, wilt Still be a boy or a batchler? Were't not far better to be husband or to be lover? Lovers feel not love, when love is first a beginning, And when loves once felt, its too late then to be running. Fie for shame: leave of these wicked words; for I know, that Bashfulness, not pride, made Phillis run from Amyntas. Live yet wretched a while, and keep thyself for a comfort; Think thou seest Phillis sit naked still by the wellspring. Some sad voice I do hear. Amynt. I do hear most dolefully sounded Phillis dearest name, which ears and heart is a wounding: Who's that which name's her? Daph. Fair Fulvia, Fulvia dearest Nymph to the high Huntress of forests mighty Diana. Oh double death's wound: dead Phillis murdereth Amyntas. Yet differ thy death till certain news be received Whether Phillis live or die; and then be resolved. Harck, come back, here, take, o stay, and run not Amyntas. And yet Amyntas runs, enraged, desperate, headlong. Phillis, for your sports I do much joy, but yet a thousand Times more for yourself, sith you so quickly revived Live yet safe and found: for Fulvia lately reported Strange news of your death: would God that Fulvia had been Dumb, or and other deaf: one mischief draws on and other. But yet no joust cause had Fulvia for to report so. Now let's hear at large, thy dangers and thy delyu'ries. Phillis alas is alive, but and other's gone to be dying. Phillis, I love thy life, but I like not a death of and other. How? that I can not tell; nor yet well whither it is so: But no doubt, I believe; for it is most like that it is so. Thy death. Phil. And I alive? Daph. Thy death was lately reported, And he beleeus thy death, and therefore seeks his own death. Oh Phillis Phillis, thou knowest not what be the torments Of truelovers heart, heart made of flesh as Amyntas, Not flynte heart, as thine; else wouldst thou love that Amyntas, Which loved Phillis more than life or soul of Amyntas. Phillis, I know, for I saw, then when thou fledst from Amyntas, Fledst, when by reason thou shouldst have kissed Amyntas: Then did Amyntas turn his pointed dart to his own breast, And thrust breast on dart: and vile dart pierced in a moment Through his coat, skin, flesh; and would have speedily pierced That same heart, which thou hadst more unluckily pierced, But that I grasped his arm, and stayed that desperate outrage. And now that small wound perchance will serve for a first proof Of cursed courage, and mind unkindly resolved, And that dart make way, and passage show to a damned Knife, or a baleful sword, with freer scope to be murdering. Yes yes, quickly Iran; But who can deal with a madman? Rage and grief from my sighed conveyed him away in a moment. Therefore now too late, it's too late now to be running, And thank thy running that it is too late to be running. Good God, what do I hear? can Phillis now be repenting? Can she relent or yield? What plaint, what passion is this? Can proud Phillis love? Phil. No love, but yet pyty-taking. But too late, Phillis, too late. Oh wretched Amyntas, Thou (even like to a Be, that stings, yet die as he stingeth, And his wounding life does leave in place that he wounds) Hast by thy death at last pierced Phillis through to the hart-root, Whereas in all thy life thou couldst not possibly move her. Now if Amyntas soul from flesh and blood be released, And here wanders abroad (as I think it for to be wandering) Let that soul now see, and joy her pains to be seeing, Soul, that living loved, and by death, bought, to be loved. When steeds are stolen, then Phillis looks to the stable. Ill news differing, is a plague as great as and ill news. Phillis, I yield my help his scattered bones to be searching, But so that Phillis make no more talk of a dying. Come, let's go, and search: I'll guide thee; the place I remember.