SYLVIA

Hold, I will not Have thee to swear, nor would I thou shouldst think, That I so much suspect thee, as to urge And Oath; I know thou hast too much of goodness (That's bred within thee) to betray a trust: And therefore without further circumstance, I'll let thee know my Fortune's, partly of which I'm sure the hast herd already. I thank thee Delia, but my evil Genius, That has pursued my innocence with hate, Brought me from thence where I had set my heart, Unto this cursed Court, which, though it be My place of birth and breeding, I do find Nothing but torment, and affliction in it. Alas my Delia, thou dost mistake, My liberty is of no worth to me, Since that my love, I fear, will never be free: Nor do I care what idle Ladies talk Of my departure, or my strange disguise, To colour my intents; I am above Their envy or their malice: But for the unlucky chance that sent to me The overcurious eyes of him I hate, Thou knowest the man. His love forsooth, for so he coloured his Unseasoned boldness, told me, he was not able To want my sighed: and so, when every one Had given over their strict enquiry of me, He only with too much officiousness, Observed me in the Woods, walking alone: And when I would have shunned him (which perhaps Had I not done, he had not so well known me) He came, and uttered, as his manner was, His tedious complaints; until at length He brought me with him, making no resistance: And to ingratiate himself the more, He said he would convey me where my Father Should have no knowledge of me: I refused it; Willing however to be rid of him. And now you know, it is a full Month since I did return to Court, but left my heart Behind me in those fields, wherein I joyed. 'Tis true my Delia; for though thou Wertenberg Privy to my departure, yet the cause Thou couldst not tell, which I will now unfold, And think I trust my honour in thy hands, And maiden modesty: 'twas love that did it. Thou knowest the shepherd's, that do dwell about This place (which for their entertainments only The King my father built) did use to come, As now they do, being sent for unto Court: I ever liked their sports, their harmless mirth, And their contentions, which were void of malice, And wished I had been born just such a one. But I confess the rather, cause there was One amongst them, of a more comely grace (Though none of them did seem uncomely to me) Called Thyrsis; and with him me thought I could Draw out my life, rather then any other, Such things my fancy then suggested to me: So well he sung, so passionate his love Showed in his verse, thereto so well expressed, As any one would judge it natural: Yet never felt he flame, till this of me: Often he came, and oftener was desired Of me, nor did I shame in public there Before my father, to commend his graces; Which when I did, the whole Court, as they use, Consented with me, and did strive to make them Greater then I, or any else could think them: At last I was surprised, I could not help it; My Fate with love consenting, so would have it. Then did I leave the Court, I've told thee all. I feigned my self Of Smyrna, and from thence some Goats I had, And Sheep, with them a rich commodity. Near him I bought me land to feed them; he Seemed glad of it, and thinking me a stranger, Used me with such civility and friendship, As one would little look for of a shepherd; And did defend me from the avarice Of the old shepherd's, which did think to make A prey of what I had. At length I saw, He did address himself with fear to me, Still gazing on me: knowing my love to him, I easily believed he loved me too: For love, alas, is ever credulous. And though I was resolved, having my end, (Which was no more, then to discourse with him) Nev r to let him know what flame I felt: Yet when I saw his tears, and herd his vows, (Persuasive speakers for affection) I could not choose but open to his view My loving heart; yet with this caution, That he should ever bear respect unto My honour, and my virgin chastity: Which then he vowed, and his ambition Never was more then to attain a kiss, Which yet he hardly God: thou seest, sweet Delia, How willingly I dwell upon this Theme. But canst thou help me now, that I have opened My wound unto thee. It's true, they come; But what is that to me, if Thyrsis come not? Or if he come, how shall he know me his, Or I enjoy his company? Thou dreamest, thou canst not do it. True, and beware thou ask; the Majesty Which sits upon his brow, will say it's he, Thyrsis my love; but yet perhaps at this time, If I my self not flatter, thou shalt know him, By his eyes cast down, and folding of his arms, And often sighs, that interrupt his words. For if his sorrow wears the liveries, Which mine does for his absence, by these signs Thou shalt descry him. But when thou hast, what wilt thou say to him? Thou speakest my thoughts: do this, and I will crown Thy faith, thou shalt be Queen in steed of me. But Thyrsis I do love you; love and death Do not much differ, they make all things equal: The Monuments of Kings may show for them What they have been, but look upon their dust, The colour, and the weight of theirs, and beggars, You'll find the same: and if amongst living men Nature has printed in the face of many, The characters of nobleness and worth, Whose fortune envies them a worthy place, In birth, or honour. When the greatest men Whom she has courted, bear the marks of slaves, Love sure will look on those, and lay aside The Accidents of wealth and noble blood, And in our thoughts will equal them with Kings. Ay me most wretched! What pleasure can there be in highest state, Which is so crossed in love, the greatest good, The Gods can tell how to bestow on men? They that think so, are such as love excludes, Men full of age, or foul deformity. No Thyrsis, let not us profane that deity: Love is divine, the seed of every thing, The cause why now we live, and all the world. But take heed, We cannot be too wary: many things Oppose our wills, yet if you think it fit, And this nights silence will so favour us, Weel go together: if we quit this Country, It is no matter, all the world to me Will be Arcadia, if I may enjoy Thy company, my love. It must not be, for know my dearest shepherd, I shall not tell one minute after thee; I find my soul so linked to thine, that death Cannot divide us. Would Delia! Cleander, is it thou? then I'm betrayed The second time, but must thy fortune make thee The instrument of my undoing still? I know Cleander, it is me you aim at: I do confess this shepherd is my love; For his sake I did leave the Court, and thee, Unworthy as thou art, to be his Rival. Canst thou look on this, This piece Cleander, and not blush to boast Thy follies thus, seeking to take away From his full virtue, if but this one act Of his appear unto the world? (as know It shall; for I'll not shame to publish him, Though I die for it) will it not devour Thy empty glories, and thy puffed up nothings, And Like a grave will bury all thy honours? Do, take his life, and glory in that act, But be thou sure, in him thou shalt kill two. Not to live a minute, After his death. No, they command it rather, that have made Our souls but one: Cleander, thou Wertenberg wont To be more courteous; and I do see Some pity in thee: if not for pities sake, Yet for thine own good spare this life, and take Mine; for thou knowest, when I am dead, this kingdom Thy father will inherit, or thy self. 'Tis but the waiting of and old men death, Who cannot long outlive me: will you do't? Rather mine; I have offended in first loving him, And now betraying him unto his end. Cleander, Save but the shepherd, and I'll crown thy merit. But swear That thou wilt save him. But will you swear To let me know of it before he die? Then I take my leave. And Thyrsis be thou sure, what ever Fate Attends thy life, the same does govern mine: One kiss I must not be denied. Then thus we partly, To meet again, I hope. Father, your blessing. And I the happiest maid that ever was Conducted by the power of simple love, Have found in place of him I thought a shepherd, A Princely lover. What man could have a heart for such a deed, And see his face. Nor I the Nymphs nce my deer fellows; but you Mirtillus, hough you did scorn to love, yet could you sing ell, if you listed of it. Let it be sung. Hymen, God of marriage bed, Be thou ever honoured: Thou, whose torches purer light, Death's sad tapers did affright, And instead of funeral fires, Kindled lovers chased desires: May their love Ever prove True and constant: let not age Know their youthful heat assuage. Maids prepare the Genial bed, Then come night, and hide that read Which her cheeks, his heart does burn: Till the envious day return, And the lusty bridegroom say, I have chaced her fears away, And instead Of virgin head, Given her a greater good, Perfection, and womanhood. And I for daring to aspire so high Without your leave. I care not Delia. Although my liberty, and free discourse Be here denied me, yet the Air is common: To it then will I utter my complaints, Or to thee, friend, to whom my love will dare To show the secrets of my heart, for others I do not care, nor fear; so thou be faithful. Do it, and when the hast done, the God of love Reward thee with thine own desires for this.