LAURINDA

How, ravish me? if't be such desperate news I pray conceal it But prithee do. Do not. No matter though whither you do or no. Yet I care not Much if I hear it. What is it? Sweet Dorylas let me know. But good Dorylas Your news. But what? For what? Dorylas what of them? As a man Worthy the best of Nymphs: As one that may deserve the fairest Virgin In Sicily. Not I by Ceres. Nay Dorylas, Pray tell it though. Is this all your news? You may conceal it. Proserpine, Were she yet Ceres daughter. He? Ceres self, were she not yet a Mother: Why Damon best of any. Except Alexis. Of any. I do. And Alexis. Yes, I do love either. Ah Dorylas, Thy years are yet uncapable of love! Thou hast not learned the mysteries of Cupid! Dost thou not see through all Sicilia, From gentlest shepherds to the meanest swains, What inauspicious torches Hymen lights At every wedding? what unfortunate hands Link in the wedding ring? Nothing but fears Jars, discontents, suspicions, jealousies, These many years meet in the Bridal sheets. Or if all these be missing, yet a Barrenness, A curse as cruel, or Abortive births Are all the blessings crown the Genial bed Till the success prove happier, and I find A blessed change, isle temper my affection Conceal my flames, dissemble all my fires And spend those years I owe to Love and Beauty Only in choosing on whose love to fix My Love and beauty. Yes, go call them hither. Yet do not, now I think on't: yet you may too; And yet come back again. Why Dorylas. Come back I say. You'll stay I hope. Dorylas. 'Tis no great matter sirrah:—when they come I'll bear my self so equal unto both, As both shall think I love him best, this way I keep both fires alive, that when I please I may take which I please.—But who comes here? How now Thestylis? Grown Orator of late? has learned Mopsus Read Rhetoric unto you, that you come To see me with Exordiums? Why Thestylis, Thou knowest the breasts I sucked were neither wolves Nor Tigers, and I have a heart of wax, Soft and soon melting; try this amorous heart; it's not Of flint or marble. Disdains her love! I tell thee Thestylis in my poor judgement, (And women if no envy blind their eyes, Best judge of women's beauty's) Amaryllis May make a Bride worthy the proudest Shepherd In all Sicilia: but wherein can I Pity this injured Nymph? Poor Nymph. My Amaryllis knows my fidelity; How often have we sported on the Lawns, And danced a roundelay to Iocastus pipe? If I can do her service Thestylis, Be sure I will: Good wench, I dare not stay Least I displease my Father; who in this age Of hapless lovers watches me as close As did the Dragon the Hesperian fruit. Farewell. I wonder much that Dorylas stays so long, Fain would I hear whither they'll come or no. I see in your own messages You can go fast enough. What, will they come? Damon? Alexis will? How, neither? am I then neglected? And not Alexis too? Let him not come. I wonder who sent for him, unless both I'll speak with none. Both? one had been too many. Was ever Nymp So vexed as I? you saucy rascal you, How do you strive to cross me? Why no. Never. Then you fear, Least I should be in love. Were I in love, Not that I am (for yet by Diana's bow I have not made my choice,) and yet suppose it, Suppose I say I were in love, What then? Why Claius, Father? Never. How should I sir? you know that my discourse Is all with walls and pictures, I never meet The Virgins on the downs. The high Priest of Ceres? How did love undo Philaebus? Why hitherto his love had good success. Would Ceres hear his prayers? After her death, How fared the sorrowful Philaebus? Unhappy lover! 'Tis pity but the Virgins once a year, Should wash his tomb with maiden tears! but now Both Lalage being dead and her Philebus, How comes it other loves should prove unfortunate? Angry and Intricate! Alas for love! What then became of Claius? And I promise, father, To temper my affections, Till the Goddess Do mitigate her anger. I'll make a Garland for my kid and follow you. What a sad tale was here? how full of sorrow? Happy that heart that never felt the shaft Of angry Cupid! Since you are Grown so importunate, and will not be answered With modest silence; Know I wish you well. Why I wish, Alexis, I were thy wife. And I do wish thou were't my husband, Damon My head, Alexis. My heart. Damon, my right. My left, Alexis. Not I, Alexis: th'art my only hope. Why so my Damon? thou art my desire. Alexis is my flame; Damon my fire. Alexis does deserve my nuptial Bed, And Damon's worthy of my Maidenhead! Do. You do not! You're a trusty servant. No not he! No, begone. Damon you have a Love, fair Amaryllis, Content your self with her. And Alexis, There be in Sicily many Virgins more Worthy your choice: why did you placed on me? Go seek some other. Thou art the glory of the woods. The pride of all the Plains. So I will. Damon, as I affect thee, so I vow To wear this Garland that adorns thy brow. This wreathe of flowers, Alexis, which was mine Because thou lovest me truly, shall be thine. This is plain dealing; let not Cupid's wars Drive your affections to uncivil jars! What shall I do? I find and equal war within my soul, My self divided; now I would say Damon, Another time Alexis, then again Damon, and then Alexis: Like a Shepherd That sees on either hand a ravenous wolf, One snatching from his ewe a tender Lamb, The other watching for a gentle Kid, Knows not poor soul which hand to turn to first. Now he would save his Lamb; but seeing his Kid Half in the jaw of death, turns back in hast To reseue that, where viewing then his Lamb In greater danger, runs to that again; As doubtful which to save as which to lose: So fares it now with me. But love instruct me! No trick left yet? Why whats the matter? The purest wax give Damon: and, good swain, The honey to Alexis: This is plain. See what it's to live a maid! Now two at once do serve us and adore, She that weds one, serves him, served her before. Oh stay your hands, for by my maidenhead;— I have protested never to disclose Which it's that best I love: But the first Nymph, As soon as Titan guilds the Eastern hills, And chirping birds, the Saints-bell of the day, Ring in our ears a warning to devotion. That lucky damsel what so ever she be Shall be the Goddess to appoint my love, To say, Laurinda this shall be your choice: And both shall swear to stand to her award! Till then Be friends, and for this night it is my pleasure You sleep Like friendly Rivals arm in arm. And they should? Where go you, Amaryllis? I will show you A way most probable to redeem his love. I re bequeathe him to my Amarylis: Come therefore amorous maid, be ruled by me; This night we'll sleep together. Dorylas, go to Thestylis excuse her this nights absence, Amaryllis Wenches are never so witty as a bed, And two together make a statesmans head. —Begun to Thestylis. Urania, a happy night unto you! —I will Alexis, And so he must if oaths be any tie. Damon, you must stand To what you promised, how shall I believe Those other oaths you swear, if you respect This one no better: It was my device To have her judge, was it not, Amarillis? How, all in blood! When last we left her She was with Damon. Oh ungrateful man! The wolf that does devour the breast that nursed it Is not so bade as thou: here, here, this Letter the eternal Chronicle of affection, That ought with golden characters to be writ In Cupid's Annals, will (false man) convince thee Of fowl ingratitude: you shall hear me read it. Laurinda, you have put it unto me To choose a husband for you, I will be A judge impartial, upright, just and true, Yet not so much unto my self as you. Alexis well deserves, but Damon more; I wish you him I wished my self before. Take him, the best of men, that ever eye Beheld, and live with him for whom I die. Amarillis. Here look on't.— Know murderer I hate thy bed, and thee, Unkind, unthankful villain. Nor will, he is all falsehood, and ingratitude. Long, oh too long, Alexis, My doubtful fancy wavered whom to love, Damon, or you; in both was happiness, But double happiness was my single misery: So fared it once, Alexis, (for I well Remember it) with one of my poor ewes, Equally moved between two tufts of grass, This tempting one way, that enticing to other, Now she would this, then that, then this again, Until poor fool (true emblem of her mistress) She almost starved in choosing which to feed on; At last (so heaven pitied the innocent fool) A western gale nipped one, which being blasted She fed upon the other. In Cupid's husbandry, Who reaps not in the spring, reaps not at all. Maids in a while grow old. I will suppress my flame, (ah still it glows.) But my Damon.