NISA

It is time to hang up our Garlands, this is our harvest holiday, we must both sing and dance in the honour of Ceres: of what colours or flowers is thine made of, Niobe ? Of Holly, because it is most holy, which lovely green neither the Suns beams, nor the winds blasts can altar or diminish. But Celia, what Garland have you? A found Hobby to hover over and Eagle. Let me read to Ri tem patienter babe, Heetou cheth you, Niobe, on the quick, yet you see how patient he is in your constancy. I will begin. Cedit amor rebus, res age, tutus eris. Then all men are Glasses. Thou givest hope. Let him alone: but see, the tree poureth our blood, and I hear a voice. Ah poor Fidelia, the express pattern of chasti tie, and example of misfortune. And hopest thou to escape revenge being but a man? Come, let us to Ceres and complain of this un acquainted and incredible villain; if there be power in her deity, in her mind pity, or virtue in virginity, this monster cannot escape. Exeunt. Into my heart, Madam, there did never enter any motion of love. No, but I have herd him described at the full, and as I imagined, foolishly. First that he should be a God blind and naked, with wings, with bow, with arrows, with free-brands; swimming sometime in the Sea, & play king sometime on the shore; with many other devices, which the Painters being the Poets Apes, have taken as great pains to shadow, as they to lie. Can I think that gods that command all things, would go naked? What should he do with wings that knows not where to slice? Or what with arrows, that sees not how to aim? The heart is a narrow marks go hit, and rather requires Angus eyes to take level, there a blind boy to shoot at random: If he were fire, the Sea would quench those coals, or the flame turn him into cinders. I fear Niobe hath felt him. Niobe is tender hearted, whose thoughts are water, yielding to every thing, and nothing to be seen. And to no end. And shall be without hope. I do not disdain that which I think is not, yet laugh at those that honour it if it be. Then also will love make me confess, that Nisa a fool. The gods make any thing lawful, because they be gods, and men honour shadows for substance, because they are men. Gods do know, and men should, that love is a consuming of wit, and restoring of folly, a staring blind ness, and a blind gazing. No, but discretion. Hope to despair. Therein, Ramis, you show your self a man. In flattering your self, that all women will yield. Thou shalt swear that we cannot. Not I. Not I, Cupid, neither do I thank thee that I am restored to life, nor fear again to be changed to stone: for rather had I been worn with the continual beating of waves, then dulled with the importunities of men, whose open flatteries make way to their secret lusts, re taining as little truth in their hearts, as modesty in their words; how happy was Nisa, which felt nothing, pined yet, not felt the consumption! unfortunate wench, that now have ears to hear their cunning lies, and eyes to behold their dissembling looks! turn me, Cupid, again; for love I will not. Shall I yield to him that practised my destructi on, and when his love was hottest, caused me to be chaun ged to a rock? I am content, so as Ramis, when he finds me cold in love, or hard in belief, he attribute it to his own folly; in that I retain some nature of the Rock, he changed me into. I do. The amorous Foresters, or none, for in the woods they have eaten so much wake-Robin, that they cannot sleep for love.