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Full speech
Mirtillus cannot love. Alas, Mirtillus, I do pity thee, Pity the error which thou wanderest in, That thinkest thou lovest, and knowest not what it is, I know Mirtillus, that no lover yet Purchased a lasting pleasure without grief; For love has gall in it, as well as honey, And so compounded, that who so ere will taste The sweets of it, must take the bitter too, Out of both which is made our constancy, You that embrace the false delights alone, Are a feigned lover, or more truly none. Still you err, For if you loved the fairest, none had been The object of your choice but my Nerina, Nerina, she the glory of these woods The only subject of all shepherd's song. Mirtillus, though I know your stubborn heart Could never entertain a lovers thought, Yet did I think you would have been more tender How you profaned a name so sacred as Nerina's is, whom never any Swain Nor rural God, nor Satyr, though he be Of savage kind would ever violate; Nerina in whose form love ever dwells Attended by the Graces, which do range Themselves in order about her comely face, Whose breasts without are hills of whitest snow, Within the seat of blameless modesty, Regard of honour, and pure chastity Nor may a lose thought ever harbour there To tempt such lovers as you seem to be. Is it for that you slight her? You might, if there were any mean in love. No let's with draw, and watch her where she gos. How can I sweetest, when my heart is with you? It hangs upon your eyes, where being scorched With their disdain, and dazzled with their lustre, It flies for ease unto your rosy lips. But beaten thence with many a harsh denial, Fain would it come for better harbour here, But here for ever it must be and Exile: For pity then fair Nymph, receive it you; And if you can, teach it the hardness of Your own, and make it marble as yours is. In vain a fence is made to guard the sheep, Where no wolf ever came. Then cherish me, for you best know, I never Attempted any thing to cast a spot On that white Innocence, to which I am A most religious votary. And am I not so still? why do you now Fly from me thus? You will excuse the heat Of my desires; still I feel that sting But dare not ask the cure, nor did I then Do any hurt, but since you think it was A fault, I do repent it, and am sorry I did offend you so. O, it distracts them more: But since my presence is offensive to you, I must obey, yet if I thought you would, When I am dead, the Martyr of your beauty, Shed one poor tear on my untimely grave, And say that Hylas was unfortunate To love, where he might not be loved again, My ashes would find rest, and so farewell The fairest, but the cruelest Nymph alive. I prithee, come, The sentence of my banishment is passed, Never to be recalled. I knew I should be mocked, but I'll divert him; What are these thou hast brought along with thee? What Paris, and Oenone, the old story? What of her? Curse of your follies; Do I live here while she is dying there? What God is it, That has the power to return my soul From the Elysian fields? Ah then I do not wonder I cannot die, when my best soul comes to me: Shall we live ever thus? And must I then be called to life again, To see my life expire before my face? You Fates, if you will take a ransom for her, Then take my life: but you are sure of that Yowl say already: for in her one death Two lives are forfeit: Nerina, gentle Nymph, The cause why now I live, open these eyes Once more, and I shall flourish Like those plants The sun gives life to: else I fallen, and wither, Leaving behind nought but a worthless stem: Speak to thy Hylas, sweet Nerina, speak. She lives, give me some more of that, That water there, see now she comes again: Oh gentle destinies, but spare this thread, And cut a thousand courser, speak Nerina, Give me some comfort, give thy father some, Or else behold three lives fallen in thy death. Oh my love, Ask me if I would live amongst the Gods, But ask not this: Sir, have we your consent? She's dead, and do I live? This is the place where I am come to pay My tears first sacrifice, upon this tomb That glories in the spoils of all my wealth. Would, what do I hear? The voice of my Nerina? so she spoke When she did live; but now, alas, she's dead: Some Devil mocks me with a vision, And voice unto it. 'Tis she, it is no vision hold Ravisher, My love thou canst not take without my life. No, no Montanus: let him live, and envy Our present happiness. Ay me! most wretched! What have I done?
Plot summary
Plot — The Shepherds' Holiday
Thyrsis, who was found by Montanus as a baby with a mysterious inscribed circlet around his neck, is distraught. He left his girlfriend Sylvia in a grove, and she has disappeared; he self-reproachfully worries that she has been raped by a passing satyr, and neglects his flocks. The oracle of Apollo reassures him that he will get her back, but only when they cease to be Thyrsis and Sylvia. Sylvia is really the Princess, Calligone. She fell in love with Thyrsis when the shepherds last came to court with some musical entertainment, and went into the country in pastoral disguise to be with him; she was also hoping to escape the amorous attentions of Cleander, but he found her in the grove and took her home. Her father, Euarchus, suspects the reason she absconded, and summons the shepherds to perform at court again, in the hope of identifying one of them as her lover. They prepare a masque. Cleander is warned off Calligone by his father, Eubulus. Before she was born, the oracle foretold that King Euarchus would see his only son after having a child who is not really his own, that he would twice condemn that son to death, and that the son would marry Euarchus’ daughter. The King took this to mean that, should the pregnant Queen produce a baby boy, it would be a bastard, so he ordered Eubulus to have the infant killed if male. When the child was indeed a boy, Eubulus plotted with the Queen to swap it for his own new-born daughter, who grew up to be Calligone. He then left the baby boy in the forest with money for his education and an identifying necklet inscribed in a diplomatic code known only to him and the King. Calligone is therefore Cleander’s sister. ‘Sylvia’ sends for Thyrsis, but Cleander sees her with him and reports the fact to the King, who orders their execution: Calligone dishonours herself in romantic entanglement with a mere shepherd. The shepherds arrive at court, but are sent away with their masque unseen. When Thyrsis removes his doublet to be strangled, however, Cleander sees the necklet, realizes that this is the long-lost Prince, and arranges for him to marry Calligone instead. The oracle is fulfilled, and King Euarchus gives his blessing to his son and daughter-in-law. In the sub-plot, Dorinda loves the wealthy Daphnis, but he only has eyes for Nerina and, moreover, has her father’s favour. Nerina loves only Hylas, but finds herself caught between love and duty. She tells both Hylas and her father that she prefers not to marry at all, but…