MYRTILLUS

Why? who can say Mirtillus does not love, Mirtillus, he who has employed his youth Ever in service of the fairest Nymphs. No, gentle Hylas? This Ribbon, and this hair you see me wear Are they not ensigns of a lover? say What shepherdess whom ever Swain thought fair, Has not Mirtillus courted, and obtained Some favour from? but you will think because I do not fold my arms, and sighs, and spend The days the Gods have given me to rejoice, In whining passion, walking still alone, Now proud with Hope's, then cast down with despair, Unequal to my self in every thing, I cannot love. No, Hylas, know I love Dorinda, Cloris, Amarillis, all Whom ever love did to his Altars call: And when this Mistress frowns, I am content To take another, when that flame is spent By time, or put out by a Rival, strait A third supplies her place, perhaps more worthy, If less, because she loves, I'll think her so. Why what is love say you, if mine be not? I know not what you mean by constancy, I'm sure I love the fairest. She has her share of beauty with the rest, And I confess she's fit for love as any; But why she only should take up your breast, And shut out all that have a right as good, Whose equal, or transcendent beauty pleads As just a title to't, as hers can do, I cannot reach the reason, but admire Your faith, and what you praise, your constancy. No, I love her As I do others, with whom I compare her. But you that love with such intemperance, Make of your love a glass, wherein you see Each thing much greater then indeed it is: My loves too cold you say, but I am sure Yours is too hight for any to endure: A mean perhaps betwixt these I might approve But while we talk thus, see, the flame has caught you, your beauteous flame Nerina is at hand Dorinda with her, dare you stay encounter. Go, leave your cursing, And follow her, let me alone with him. Who, she thats gone? eleeve your eyes no more, they are false to you. Could you take one for her, thats nothing Like her. It Cloris went from us. 'Tis true. We are not men with him, till after fifty. But Shepherds did you never hear, that once There was and Age, the nearest to the Gods: And age we rather praise then imitate; When no men will, nor woman's was enforced, To any bent, but its own motion: Each followed Nature's laws, and by instinct Did love the fairest, and enjoyed their wishes; Love then not tied to any interest Of blood or fortune, hastened to his end, Without control, nor did the Shepherd number Her sheep that was his choice, but every grace That did adorn her beauteous mind or face; Riches with love then were not valued, Pure uncompounded love, that could despise The whole world's riches for a Mistress eyes. Pray tell me Daphnis, you are young and handsome, The lover of our fairest Nymph Nerina: Would you for all that fruitful Sicily Can yield, or all the wealth of Persia, Change one poor lock of your fair Mistress hair, While she is yours, and you her shepherd are. Spoke Like a Lover of the ancient stamp. Yes if she Like The man, she will bestow her self, never fear it. Old man, believe her not, she means not so, She loves to keep the thing for which she is So much beloved, I mean her Maidenhead; Which, while she has, she knows to play the Tyrant, And make us slaves unto her scornful looks: For beauty then it self most justifies, When it is courted, if not loved, it die. I, let me alone. HE that mourns for a Ministers, When he knows not where she is, Let him kiss her shadow fair, Or engender with the air; Or see if with his tears he can Swell at and ebb the Ocean: Then, if he had not rather die, Let him love none, or all as I. This is the doctrine that I ever taught you, And yet you profit not; these scurvy passion Hang on you still: You that are young and active, That may have all our Nymphs at your devotion, To live a whining kind of life as this, How ill it does become you? I do not think so; all the reason love Has left you, to employ in this discourse, Will hardly bring me to confess it to you. Well, what will you infer on this? I, but I do confine my self to two, Or three at most; in this variety I please my self, for what is wanting in One, I may find it in another. I, there's your error, that's the ground of all Your tears, and sighs, your fruitless Hope's and fears, When she perhaps has not so much adorn her As the least grace your thoughts bestow upon her. Well, I'll no more of this, I'll be converted, Rather then call this grief to your remembrance. Nay leave good Thyrsis, I did come to tell you, This holiday our Royal Prince Euarchus Being removed to his house here near adjoining, Sent to command us to attend his person, With all our sports and wonted merriment, Wherein you always boar the chiefest partly. And I have herd, (it's not to make you blush) The Princess has commended your rare Art And handsome graces, which you gave your Music. Come, you must go with us, for Hylas is So far engaged in love, and near his Hope's, He will not stir unless his Mistress go. Till then farewell. The gentlest youth that ever played on Pipe: But see, who's here? o, it's my other Lover, His Mistress with him, I will not disturb him. O, this is fine. I see he is not such a Novice as Aside. I took him for; he can tell how to speak. Better, and better He'll cry anon, he has already asked Forgiveness of her. Aside. What will you leave her thus? Are these the Hope's You fed upon? Oh what a thing in Nature Is a coy woman! or how great a fool The man is, that will give her leave to rule. What paper's that? Love-verses, as I live; what's here, a Dream? Nay, I will read they, therefore stand aside. Sleep, thou be calmer of a troubled sprîte, Which leadest my fancy to that sweet delight, Wherein my soul found rest, when thou didst show Her shadow mine, whose substance is not so: Wrap up mine eyes in and eternal night. For since my day springs only from that light Which she denies me; I account the best Partly of my life is that which gives me rest. And thou more hard to be entreated, then Sleep to the heated eyes of frantic men; Thou that canst make my joys essential, Which are but shadows now, be liberal, And outdo sleep, let me not dream in vain, Ʋ nlesse thou meanest I never shall sleep again. Alas poor fool! will she not let thee sleep? The Masquers, Hylas, these are they must trip it Before the King: dost Like their properties? But newly made, and fashioned to my purpose; Brought hither to make good my own positions Against the company of puling lovers; Which if I do not, and with good effect, Let me be one my self; and that's a torture Worse then Apollo laid upon the Satyr, When the rude villain durst contend with him: Look this way Hylas, see Oenone here, The fairest Nymph that ever Ida blessed, Court her departing shepherd, who is now Turning his love unto a fairer object; And for his judgement in variety See how the seaborn Goddess, and the Graces Present their darling Helena to him. Be happy in thy choice, and draw a war On thee, and thine, rather then set thy heart Upon a stale delight: Do, let her weep, And say thou art inconstant. Be so still; The Queen of love commands it: you that are The old companions of your Paris here, Move in a well paced measure, that may show The Goddess, how you are content for her Fair sake to leave the honour of your woods: But first let her, and all the Graces sing The Invitation to your offering. COme lovely boy unto my Court, And leave these uncouth woods, and all That feed thy fancy with loves gall, But keep away the honey, and the sport. Cho. Come unto me, And with variety Thou shalt be fed, which Nature loves, and I. There is no Music in a voice, That is but one, and still the same. Inconstancy is but a name, To fright poor lovers from a better choice. Cho. Come then to me, &c. Orpheus, that on Eurydice Spent all his love, on others scorn, Now on the banks of Heber torn, Finds the reward of foolish constancy. Cho. Come then to me, &c. And sighs no more for one love lost, I have a thousand Cupid's here, Shall recompense with better cheer Thy misspent labours, and thy bitter cost. Cho. Come then to me, &c. What is't That can be worth the breaking of our sports? But shepherd, what disease is't that so soon Could spend his force upon her? she was well This morning, when she made poor Hylas sick. Shepherds here let us end. I think we are Perfect in all the rest: This night the King Must see't, resolve on that. Then lets away, and see what will betide This gentle Nymph Nerina. Hylas, what on the ground? look up and speak Alas, he's dead. What cannot love do? It revives the dead, He's come to himself again. It is no God, A Goddess rather, Hylas. It's Nerina, Look where she is. No, it's not strange, it was his will to do so: But if you have and itch of dancing, friends, Next holiday we'll have't amongst our selves, And every man shall dance with his own sweetheart: What say you shepherd's, wil't not be as well? Walking in a garden, Where when I came to call him, he was gone. Neither for yours nor any men beside. Well then beware my friends how you engage Your selves in love: He is a fair example, And Hylas too, he's drooping for his mistress; Daphnis is mad, they say; if you have a mind To die, or to run mad, then be in love. I do not Like his fumes: pray let's away. What noise is this? Shepherd, hold, Let go this Nymph. Sir, I shall cool you, if you be so hight. He will go hang himself: what plots he had To fool himself with! Stay Montanus, Did the King send for you? And how? I would comply, never fear it; They live a heavenly life of love in Court, To that which we do here; a Mistress there Will satisfy the longings of her lover, And never trouble Hymen for the matter: Then if they Like not, they may look elsewhere, The mischief's in my tongue, I never do any. Who, I? Take me at that once, fathering of children, And make me common father of them all: A child's a pretty thing, and I should joy To see one of mine own. I'll tell thee truth Montanus, by this hand I never lay With any woman in my life. I do confess it, And that is all I could do; for before I could get earnest of any ones love, To whom I made address; even she would say, You have another mistress, go to her, I will not be her stale: and so by this means, Nor this, nor that would do me any reason. No, for if they would believe me, I did swear I had no other. Pray, Montanus, tell me, For you have known the several ways of wooing, Which is the best, and safest? But I have herd, old men do sometime love. Madam, I reverence it in you, he perfectest pattern of a constant lover, and in the honour of your Nuptials have a Song, which if your Grace will hear, It'll entertain the time. Your thrice happy match, eing but now come to my knowledge, made me ontract my self into a straiter room, hen the large subject might afford. More fool you; Aside. It may be if you had, it needed not have come to this. Mark her fineness, Now at the brim of death: she kisses him: And took this way to mock her simple father; Oh fine invention! sure a woman's wit, Does never fail her. I'll go with you: It's strange the King should send for you: pray heaven Thyrsis have done no mischief there, he's handsome, Of a good grace, and moving eloquence: Perhaps some Lady may have taken him Up for her self, and he, I'll lay a wager, Will be so squeamish, that if Sylvia Come in his mind, he never will do her reason, And then her plot will be how to betray him: Would I were in his place.