MONTANUS

Do you not see he is a child as yet? He hath attained scarcely to eighteen years, All in good time he may yet taste of love. Many things altar in a young men heart. It is unnatural where years do want. It does but flowere, t'is quite without all fruit. Titirus, if the Destinies have not ordained This marriage, yet the faith they gave on earth, Binds them vntoo't, which if they violate, They violate their vow to Cinthia, Who is enraged gainst us, how much thou knowest. But for as much as I discover can, The secret counsels of the eternal powers: This knot was knit by the and of Destiny. All to good end will sort, be of good cheer. I'll tell you now a dream I had last night. I saw a thing which makes my ancient hope Revive within my heart, more then before. Do you remember that same woeful night, When swelling Ladon oue flowed his banks, So that the fish swam where birds did breed, And in moment did the ravenous flood, Take men and beasts by heaps and heards away. (O sad remembrance) in that very night I lost my child, more deer then was my heart: Mine only child, in cradle warmly laid. Living, and dead, dearly beloved of me. The Torrent took him hence ere we could prove To give him succour, being buried quite, In terror, sleep, and darkness of the night: Nor could we ever find the cradle where he lay, By which I guess some whirlpit swallowed both. Perhaps the piteous heavens will restore My first sons lose, in him that lives yet; Still must we hope, now listen to my tale. The time when light and darkness strove together, This one for night, that other for the day, Having watched all the night before, with thought To bring this marriage to a happy end, At last, with length of weariness, mine eyes A pleasing slumber closed, when I this vision saw, Me thought I sat on famous Alfeus bank, Under a leafy plane tree with a baited hook, Tempting the fish in the stream, in amid Whereof, there rose me thought and aged man: His head and beard dropping down silver tears, Who gently reached to me with both his hands A naked child, saying, behold thy soon, Take heed thou killest him not. And with that word He dived down again. When straight the skies Waxed black with clouds, threatening a dismal shower, And I afraid, the child took in mine arms, Crying, ah heavens, and will you in and instant then, Both give and take away my child again? When on the sudden all the sky waxed clear: And in the River fell a thousand bows, And thousand arrows, broken all to shivers. The body of the plane tree trembled there, And out of it there came a subtle voice Which said, Arcadia shall be fair again. So is the Image of this gentle dream Fixed in my heart, that still me thinks I see't: But above all, the courteous aged man. For this when you me met, I coming was Unto the temple for to sacrifice, To give my dreams presage prosperous success. The mind does not sleep ever with the flesh, But is more watchful then, because the eyes Do not led it a wandering where they go. Be of good cheer, let not these humane fears, Confound thy spright, let's put our trust 'th' Gods, And pray to them (t'is meet) for good success. Our children are their offspring, and be sure They will not see them lost that others keep. Go'w, let us to the Temple jointly go, And sacrifice you a he Goat to Pan, I a young Bull, to mighty Hercules. He that the herd makes thrive, can therewithal Make him thrive, that with the profits of his herd Hallows the Altars. Faithful Dametas, Go thou and fetch a young and lovely Bu'l, As any's in the herd, and bring it by the mountains way, I at the Temple will attend for thee. Yea sacred Priests, the Altars ready make, Shepherds devout, reiterate your sounds, And call upon the name of our great Goddess. Now Shepherds stand aside, nor you my servants Come not near, except I call for you. Valiant young man, that to give life else where, Abandonest thine own, die comforted thus far: T'is but a speedy sighs, which you must pass; For so seems death to noble minded sprights, That once performed, this envious age, With thousands of her years shall not deface The memory of such a gentle deed: But thou shalt live the example of true faith, But for the Law commands thee sacrificed, To die without a word: Before thou kneelst, If thou hast ought to say, say it, and hold thy peace For ever after that. Scarce I contain from tears: o frail mankind! Be of good cheer my son, I promise thy desire, I swear it by this head, this hand take thou for pledge. On sacred Ministers, kindle the flame With Frankincense and Myrrh, and Incense throw thereon That the thick vapour may on high ascend. Reach me ( Nicander ) the golden Basin, That contains the juice of Bacchus fruit. So may this faultless blood Thy breast (O sacred Goddess) mollify, As do these falling drops of Wine extinguish This blazing flame. So, take the Basin, there; Give me the silver Ewer now: Now all is fit, there wants nought but the end. Give me the Axe. Revengeful Goddess that for private fault, Dost public punishment on us inflict, (Whither it be thy only will, or else Eternal providence immutable command) Since the infected blood of ( Lucrina false) Might not thy burning justice then appease, Drink now this innocent and voluntary Sacrifice, No lesser faithful then Amintas was, That at thy sacred Alter in thy dire revenge I kill. O how I feel my heart wax tender now, Binding my senses with unusual maze: So both my heart not dares, my hands unable are To lift this Axe. Perhaps against the Sun my strength does fail, And 'tis a fault to sacrifice against the Sun, Turn thou thy dying face towards this hill. So now, 'tis well. So now I can. Who lets my blow? By such a heavenly power thou coniur'st me, That I were wicked, if thee denied: But what wil't profit thee? Because he for and other willing is to die. Thou dotest friend. Nor couldst thou, for he die but by exchange. But tell me, what art thou? thy habit shows Thou art a Stranger, no Arcadian born. I am a father man, A tender father of and only son: Yet were this same, my Silvio's head, my hand Should be as ready for't as t'is for this: For he this sacred habit shall unworthy wear, That to a public good, his private does prefer. O thus I thought his father's tears would make Him break his silence. On Ministers, why do we stay so long? Carry him to the Temple back to th'noly Cell, There take again his voluntary vow. Then bring him back, and bring new Water too, New Wine, new Fire: dispatch, the sun grows low. I suffered thee so long, till thou growest insolent. Knowest thou not Rage that Justice up, The longer t'is delayde, the greater 'tis? Let me then know how I can be unjust? I told you so, And told you that which heavens did command. A Stranger, how? is he not then thy son? Perhaps because you not begotten him here. Here we the kindred mean, and not the place. Is he thy son, and thou begots him not? Didst thou not say that he was born of thee? Thou art ore-madd, or else a lying man. How can it be son, and not son at once? Is he thy son? he is no Stranger then: If not, thou hast no partly at all in him: Father or not, thus thou convinced art. On this my head, and on my Silvio's head, Let my injustice fallen. You shall repent, if you my duty hinder. Gods you To witness call, that you despised have. Heavens aid me from this Bedlam man. Who is his father since he's not your son? See how he wavers, is he not of your blood? Why do you call him son? Bought you him? stole you him? where had you him: And that same stranger, where had he the child? Thou movest at once disdain and laughter. First thou him gavest, and then hadst him in gift. And where had you him? Here's a fine tale, what have your woods no beasts? How scapte he being devoured: And were your streams so pitiful they drowned him not? Your Rivers gentle are that children nuise. Laid in a cradle? And but a child? How long was this ago O how I feel a horror shake My bones. What interest had the man you speak of in That child? was he his son? Had he no better knowledge then of it then thus? Know you him if you see him? Shepherds Come hither soon. Which of these did he resemble then? Stand then aside, Dametas stay with me, Tell me knowest thou this man? Let me alone, stand you aside a while. Now answer me Dametas, and take heed You do not lie, 'tis almost twenty years Since you returned from seeking out my child, Which the outrageous River bore away: Did you not tell me you had searched in vain All that same country, with Alpheus waters? Did not you tell me him You could not find? What child then was it (tell me) which you gave Unto this stranger which did know you here? Is not he old? yet he remembers it. That shall we see, Come hither stranger, come. Tell me Is this the shepherd that gave thee the gift? Yet wilt thou feign? Is it not true which he hath told thee here? And wherefore didst thou give another's goods? Yet wilt thou hold me off and say no more? Villain thou diest if I but ask again. Ay me, it is too manifest, the case is clear. The proof's too great, too much have you declared, Too much I understand, oh Carino, Carino, How I change grief and Fortune's now with thine, How they affections now are waxed mine, This is my son, o most unhappy son, Of a more wretched father. More savage was The water in him saving, then in runing quite away, Since at these sacred Altars by thy father's hands Thou must be slain, a woeful sacrifice, And thy poor blood must wash thy native soil. The deluge ravished him, whom when I lost, I left more safe, now found, I lose him most. This was my sleep foretold, deceitful sleep. In ill too time, in good too lying still. This was the unwonted pity, and the sudden horror that I felt to stay the axe and shake my bones: For nature sure abhors a stroke should come From father's hands, so vild abominable. By other hands he may not at these Altars die. So bids our law, and were it piety to spare Him since the true Amyntas would not spare himself? To see two father's sovereign pity made a homicide Yours to Mirtillo, mine unto the Gods, His father you denying for to be, Him thought to save, and him you lost thereby, Thinking and seeking, I to kill your son, Mine own have found, and must mine own go kill. To me Carino leave these woeful tears, I plain my blood: my blood, why say I so, Since I it shed? poor son why God I thee? Why Wertenberg thou born? did the mild waters save thy life, The cruel father might the same bereave? Sacred immortal powers, without whose deep insight No wave does stir in seas, no blast in skies, No leaf upon the earth: what great offence Have I committed, that I worthy am With my poor offspring for to war with heaven? If I offended have, o yet my son What hath he done you cannot pardon him? Oh Jupiter the great disdainful blast Would quickly suffocated my aged sense, But if thy thunder bolts will not, my weapons shall. The dolorous example I'll renew, Of good Amyntas our beloved Priest, My son amazed shall see his father slain, Ere I a father will go kill my son: Die thou Montane, 'tis only fit for thee, Oh powers, I cannot say whither of heaven or hell, That agitooke with grief, despairful minds, Behold your fury thus it pleases you. I nought desire save only speedy death, A poor desire my wretched life to end, Some comfort seems to my sad spright to send. Is't not the reverend Tirenio which I see? Who blind on earth, yet sees all in heaven? Some great thing moves him thus, these many years I saw him not out of his holy Cell. Father Tirenio, what's the news with you You from the temple? how comes this to pass? That which you know not wretch, I know too well, But tell me can the Fates hide ought from thee? That piercest to the deepest of Destinies. That father you desire to know am I. I am the wretched father of that wretched son. His that by death gives and other life, Yet by that death kills him that gave him life. Behold my witness here. The very same. Tirenio hath waked such joy in me United yet with such a miracle As I scarce feel I joy, nor can my soul Confounded show me high retained mirth, Oh gracious pity of the highest Gods, Oh fortunate Arcadia, o earth, More happy then all earth's beneath the sun, So deares' thy good, I have forgotten mine own, And my beloved sons, whom twice I lost, And twice again have found, these seem a drop To the huge waves of thy great good: o dream, Oh blessed dream, celestial vision rather. Arcadia now thou waxest bright again. Not passed one hour. Take heed Tiremo we do not violate Our holy law, can she her faith now give Unto Mirtillo, which she Silu oh gave? That's very true, I did revive his name In this my younger son. Carino go with us, this day Mirtillo hath Two father's found, Montane a son, and thou a brother. Most welcome both. But thank thou heavens thou aged impudent, Thou art his father? if thou Wertenberg not: well, (I swear by this same sacred habit on my head I wear) Thou shouldst soon taste how ill I brook thy boldness. Why, knowest thou who I am knowest thou that with This Rod I rule affairs both human and divine? Oh man profane, Why hast thou held this holy Axe? how darest Thou thy rash hands inpose upon the same? N er cease, hear him, and turn him hence. Thou art A Stranger man. I not remember That I ever saw thee erst. Thou mayest not man. Oh wretched we The holocaust contaminate o Gods. So may thine anger cease with that same faithless Nymph Provoked as does this fire, this falling stream extinguish. Extremity of grief hath made thee mad. His faith is doubted that his words contraries.