DAPHNE

Fine sports no doubt, and sure a goodly life For silly minds that never tasted other, And for that cause alone it pleases thee: oh duller ages heretofore could think corns and water the best meat and drink, efore the use of corn and wine was found, ut now th'are only eat and drunk by beasts: And hadst thou but once proved the thousand partly Of the deer joys those happy lovers feel, That truly love, and are beloved again, Thou wouldst with sighs repent thy time mispent, And only call a lovers life Content. And say, Oh my passed springtyde, how in vain Spent I thy widowy nights? how many days In fruitless loneness, which I now be wail? Why knew I not loves sweets have this condition To bring new joys with every repetition? Change, change thy mind (young silly one) and know Too late repentance is a double woe. I so, joust such another peevish thing Like thee was I, when I was of thy years; So looked, so pac'de, so golden trest', so ruddy My tysing lip, so in my rising cheek The damask rose was blown; and I remember Just such as thine is now, my mind was then, And eu'ne such silly pastimes as thine be I likewise vsd'e; as with limed twigs to catch Unwares the feathered singers in the wood, Track the Deeres footing, till I had entrapped them And such Like; when a gentle lover wood me, With such a peevish grace hang down the head And blush for scorn I would, as oft thou dost; And that unseemly form me thought became me, Nay eu'ne disliked what others lik'de in me, So much I counted it a fault, and shame To be desir'de or lou'de of any one; But what cannot time bring to pass? and what Cannot a true and faithful lover do With importunity, desert and love? And I confess plainly the troth to thee So was I vanquished; nor with other arms Then humble sufferance, sighs, and pity craving: But then I soon found in one short nights shade, What the broad light of many hundred days Could never teach me; then I could recall My self, shake off my blind simplicity, And sighing say, here Cinthia take thy bow, Quiver, and horn, for I renounce thy life. And I hope yet to see another day Thy wild thoughts bridled too, and thy hard breast Yield, and grow softer at Aminta's plaints. Is he not young and fresh, and lovely too? Does he not love thee dearely', and thee alone? For though belou'de of many Nymphs, he never For others love, or thy hate, leaves to love thee. Nor canst thou think him to mean born for thee; For (be thou daughter of Cidippe fair, Whose sire was God of this our noble flood) Yet is Aminta old Silvanus heir, Of the high seed of Pan the Shepherd's God. The sleeke-browd' Amarillis (if ere yet In any fountains glass thou sawest thy self) Is not a whit less lovely then thou art; Yet all her sweet allurements he rejects, And madly dotes on thy dispightfull loathings. Well, but suppose now, (and the heavens forbid It come to more then supposition) That he falling from thee, his mind remove, And cleave to her, that so deserves his love; What will become of thee then? with what eye Wilt thou behold him in and others arms Happily twyn'de, and thy self laughed to scorn? Fie, whence grows this thy hate? Too soft a sire to breed so rough a Son; But who ere saw Tygars of mild Lambs bred, Or the black Rau'ne hatched of a silver Dove? Thou dost but mock me Silvia, dost thou not? 'Tis thou offendest thy self; he does but crane The same for thee, that he desires to have. See fondling see How ill this peevishness of youth becomes thee; Tell me but this yet, if some other lou'de thee, Is this the welcome thou wouldst give his love? Is the ram then to th'ewe and enemy, The bull to the bayfer, is the turtle too, And enemy to his mate that loves him so? And is the Spring the season of debate, That (sweetly smiling) leads to coupling bans The beast, the fish, the fowl, women and men? And seest thou not that every thing that is, Breathes now a sovereign air of love, and sweetness, Pleasure, and health? behold that Turtle there With what a wooing murmur he sighs love To his belou'de; hark of yond Nitingall That hops from bough to bough, Singing I love I love; nay more then these, The speckled Serpent lays his venom by, And greedy runs to embrace his loved one; The Tygar loves, and the proud Lion too; Thou only savage more then savage beasts Barrest against love thy more-then-yron breast. But what speak I of Lions, Tygars, Snakes, That sensible ar? why all these trees do love; See with what amorous and redoubled twinings The loving Vine her husband fair intangles; The Beech tree loves the Beech, the Pine the Pine, The Elm the Elm loves, and the Willows too A mutual languish for each other feel. That Oak that seems so rough and so impenetrable, Does no less feel the force of amorous flame; And hadst thou but the spirit and sense of love, His hidden language thou wouldst understand. Wilt thou be less and worse then trees and plants, In being thus and enemy to Love? Fie silli'one fie; these idle thoughts remove. Well, mock my words, laugh my advice to scorn, (Deaf to Loves found, and simple as thou art) But go thy ways; be sure the time will come When thou shalt fly from the now-loued fount Where thou beholdest and so admyr'st thy self; Fearing to view thy self so wrinkled fowl S age will make thee; but I note not this oh thee above the rest, for though age be vill, it's so to all as well as thee. Heardest thou what Elpine spoke this other day, The reverend Elpine to the fair Licoris, Licoris whose eyes wrought upon him that Which his songs should have wrought upon her heart, f Love could learn but to give each his endue) He told it (Batto' and Thyrsis being by, hose two learned lovers) in Aurora's den, er whose door is writ— hence ye profane, you ye far hence, which words he writ (said he) hat in that high pitch sang of loves and arms, and when he died bequeathed his pipe to him; here was (he said) low in infernal lake A dungeon dark, aye filled with noisome fumes reath'd from the furnaces of Acaron, and there all cruel and ingrateful women we in eternal horror, and ar fed With only their own bootless plaints and cries. ooke to't betimes, or I am soar afraid here must a room be taken up for you, quite this cruelty to others vsd'e. and 'twere but justice, that those fumes should draw sea of sorrow from those eyes of thine, hat pity could never make to shed a tear: Well, run on thine own course, and mark the end. How curious the art in other folks affairs, And careless quite in what concerns thy self? Why, with her eyes Licoris answered him. Yes; her fair eyes wrapped in a sunny smile, Told Elpine this; Her heart and we are thine; More cannot she give, nor must thou desire. This were alone enough to satis sie And serve for full reward to a chased lover, That held her eyes as true as they were fair, And put entire and hearty trust in them. I'll tell thee; knowest thou not what Thyrsis wri When hurried so with love, and loves disdain He wont to wander all about the woods, In such a sort, as pity moou'de, and langhter Amongst the young Swains and Nymphs that gaz'de oh him? Yet writ he nought that laughter did deserve, Though many things he did, deserved no less. He writ it on the barks of sundry trees, And as the trees, so grew his verse. 'Twas this— Deluding eyes, false mirhors of the heart, Full well I find how well ye can deceive: But what avails, if love enforce my will To'imbrace your harms, and dote upon you still? I'll stay for thee, and perhaps wash me too, But first I'll home a while, and come again, or the day's younger then it seems to be. Go then, and stay there for me till I come; and in the mean time, think on my advice, hat more imports thee, then the chase, or fount; and if thou dost not think so, thou must know Thou little knowest; and oughtest thy judgement bow To their direction that know more then thou. AT my laments I've herd the rocks, the waters For pity answer; and at my complaint he leau'de boughs murmur, as they grieved for me; to never saw, nor ever hope to see Pity in the fair and cruel (shall I say Woman or) tygar? for a woman she Denies to be, in thus denying me The pity this my miserable state Draws from things senseless, and inanimate. What Master is't that shows them all these arts? How name you this same teacher? Go trifler. Come y'ar unhappy; but in earnest now I'm not resolved Silvia so simple is As by her words she seems; for th'other day One deed of hers put me in doubt of her: I found her in those broad fields near the town, Where amongst drown'de grounds, lies a little Isle, And round about, a water clear, and calm; There over she hung her head; and seemed (me thought) Full proud to see her self, and took advice O'th'water, in what order best to lay Her locks, and them about her brow display, And over them her veil, and over that The flowers she carried in her lap; now here She hung a Lily, there she stuck a Rose; Then laid them to her neck, and to her cheek, As to try whethers hew the other passed; At last, (as joyful of the victory) She smiling seemed to say, the day is mine; Nor do I wear you for my ornament, But for your own disgrace (counterfeit flowers) To show how much my beauty passes yours. But while she thus stood decking of her self, She turned her eye by chance, and soon had found That I had noted her, and blushed a main, Down fell her flowers; I laughed to see her blush; And she blushed more, perceiving that I laughed; But, (for of one side of her face, the hair Was hung abroad, and th'other not,) she turns To water once on twice, to mend the fault, And gazed as 'twere by stealth, (fearful belike That I too nearly eyed her,) where she saw Her hair (though orderless, yet) hanging so, As graced her well; I saw, and saw her not. Thou didst: but yet I will be bold to say That I have seldom seen a Shepherdess Or Nymph what ever of her years discreeter; Nor was I such when I was of her years: The world grows old, and of a troth I think It grows as ill as old. I cannot tell; Silvia is nice and strange beyond all measure. He's i'the wrong then, fie on such a lover; Nice (quoth you?) counsel him to leave that vice, If he will learn to love; he must be bold, And urge with speeding importunity; Let him a little filtch; if that be vain, Then ravish: tush knowest thou what women ar? They fly; but every step wish to be taken; What they deny, they wish were snatched from ̄ them; They fight, but still wish to be overcome. I tell thee this Thyrsis, but in thine ear: Blab not what In say to thee', I cannot speak Inrime (thou knowest) but if I could, I'de say Somewhat more worth then rhyme to bear away. Well then, I'll tell thee: we ar going now Silvia and I together all alone Unto Diana's fount, to wash our selves; There where the planetree with his safer shade Ore-spreds the cool stream, and is wont t'inuite The weary huntresses to rest, and cool them: There shee'll uncase her so-beloued limbs. What of that? silly th'art Or else thou wouldst not ask me what of that. No? Why then truly let him stay till she Come to woee him; and when will that be trow ye? But now let's leave this theme; and talk a word Or two of thee; say Thyrsis, wilt not thou Resolve at last to be a lover too? Th'art not yet old; few more then thirty years Have overslipped thee, and I well remember Thy infancy; wilt thou live joyless still? For only he lovers is the happy life. Oh but that sweet grows dull, and gluts betime, That is not seas'ned with a little sour. But if the food be pleasing, and possessed, It's good before; and in the tasting best. Who Hope's to find, that never means to seek? Belike th'hast not enjoyed loves pleasure yet: You may perhaps be forced against your will; Who can be far from ̄ love? But what avails to fly from him hath wings? Being young, we know him not; but after, long; And when we feel him once, he's grown too strong. Well; ye shall hau't; wee'll see how well you will Bridle your eye and heart; but I protest Since thou canst play both Hound and Hare so well, If ere I hear thee call and cry for help, I will not move a foot, nor yet a finger, Nor stir and eye, nor speak a word for thee. Away you mock me now; well well, perhaps You do not merit such a love as mine. I've seen many a lad as fine as you Deceived with a fair seeming painted face. I, live so still, Happier then twenty others; live in ease; Perhaps unwares ease may engender love. Oh thou fliest high; prithee descend a little, And to our purpose. Yes, I go; but Thyrsis, We were discoursing of and other matter. Why live yet, live with thy unhappiness; And bear it for thy greater happiness When the time comes; think what thou lately sawest In the fair naked one, and let that serve thee For a reward sufficient for thy hope, And make thee in love with life. I do hear a sad Lamenting voice. It's I think the Nymph Nerina, she whom Dian loves so well, That has so lively eyes, and lovely hands, And so becoming a behaviour. Nerina? what's the matter that thou namest Silvia so oft, and sighest at every word? Tell us all, tell the worst Nerina. Stay yet, stay wretch, and learn The truth yet better. Aminta stay, Aminta', a word Aminta, Hark, stay; alas how swift he flies away. Suppose she might Yet not have told it with such certainty. But tell me prithee how thou didst escape The danger so. Ay me Thou livest, it's well, would all were well beside. No; that thou livest I'm glad; But for and others death I must be sad. Why Aminta's death. Nay how I cannot tell; nor yet am sure Of the deed done; but I believe it firmly. Thy death. Even the heavy news Of thy death, which he herd, and credited, Hath brought him to his end, someway or other. Oh Silu'ia Silvia, thou dost not feel Nor know what 'loues flame can do, in a breast That is a breast of flesh, and not of flint As thine is; for didst thou but know't, I know Thou wouldst have loved him that loved thee more Then both his eyes; more then his breath and life; I do believe it, nay I've seen, and know it. I saw, I saw him when thou fledst from him (Unkind and cruel as thou Wertenberg) when he, Even then when thou shouldst rather have embraced Then scorned him so, against his breast had bent His Dart, with full intent to kill himself: Nor any whit repented of the deed, When (stayed by me from farther wounding him) The sharp steel had his garment and his skin Died in his blood, and had pierced through that heart That loyal heart of his, that thou before Hadst wounded worse, had not I held his hand, And saved him all I could: but Oh alas That slight wound served but as a trial only And small proof of his desperate constancy; And but to teach the fatal steel, to do The black deed it was preappointed to. But at last When the news came that thou Wertenberg dead, I saw him Found at the hearing on't, and die away; And came no sooner to himself again, But furiously he flings away amain; And sure I fear, alas, too sure it'll prove Has killed himself; Such was his too much grief, and too much love. 'Tis too true. Alas I followed him, but he had soon So far outrun me, as I now despair That we shall find him having lost his footing. Belike then (Cruel) th'art but grieved he should Take from thee th'honour of this goodly deed? And wouldst thy self be the brave murdresse? Must no hand else but thine, and Actor be In the execution of this Tragedy? Well, set thy heart at rest; for howso're He die, thou art his only murderer. What's this? what do I hear? Why thou art pitiful then, and thy heart Seems to have feeling of another's harms; What do I see? Why thou dost weep too; I'm amazed at this? Whence ar these tears? Is't love that causes them? Compassion is the messenger of love, As is the lightning of the thunder clap. These ar love-tears (Silvia) they flow so fast; Dost thou not love indeed? would? not a word? Yes, it's too true, but alas it's too late. Behold the strange ways of Loves chastisement; Wretched Aminta, thou that (Like the Be, Which hurting die, and in and others wound Leaves his own life,) hast with thy death, at last Pierced that hard heart, which living felt thee not. But if, Oh erring Spirit, (as I fear Thou art, and severed from thy empty corpse) Thou wanderest here about; behold her plaints; Living thou lou'dst her, see she loves thee dead. And if thy cruel fate would have it so, That thy love could not be repaid till now, And that her love was only to be purchased By thee at this deer price; let it suffice thee (Where more thou canst not have) that thou hast bought it As dearly now, as she could rate it thee; Even with thy death. Oh pity, Oh discretion, too late bred; Little avail they to revive the dead. I Am so full of woe, so full of borror As all I hear and whatsoever I look on Me thinks afflicts, disquiets, and affrights me. Now, now begins, the heavy history. Wretched Aminta. I am content to'assist thee'in seeking him, But talk (for heavens sake) of this death no more. Alas wee'ue had too much of that before. I'll go along and guide thee, for I well Remember't. Ah what a proper style Of conjuration (fool) hast thou devise To move me with; bringing my youth to mind, The pleasure I have lost, and pain I find. But what wouldst have me do? Poor youth he die; he's dead; ay me he's dead With grief. Leave leave Aminta This thy unjust despair: I know her well; And 'twas her bashfulness, not cruelty, That made her run away so fast from thee.