THIRSIS

Lambs on the grass, the Wolf feeds on that Lamb Love (cruelest of things) with tears is fed. And though he ever feeds, is never full. Onn. I'll tell thee willingly. When first my hap led me to know these woods, I knew this fellow, and esteemed him As thou dost: So it fortuned once, I had Desire and business to go see that great Wonder of Cities, at whose ancient feet The broad-fam'd river runs; and him I made Acquainted with my purpose: he replies, And thus began to preach; My son beware Now thou art going to that seat of fame, Where those deceitful crafty Citizens, And evil minded Courtiers live, and wont To scoff at us, and hold in such a scorn Our plain distrnstlesse homely carriage; Be well advised (my son) and press not there Where the fresh coloured robes with gold ar wrought, Gay plumes, and dayly-varied dressings shine; But above all, beware accursed Fate, Or thy youths jollity conduct thee not Unto that magazine of restless chat, But fly that cursed and enchanted place. What place is that (quoth I?) it's there (said he) Where dwell th'inchantresses that have the pour And art to make men, and their minds transparent; And what so Diamonds seem, and finest gold, But glass and copper ar; those silver chests That seem full of rich treasor, ar no more Then kennels full of filth, and cozen men; The walls ar built too with that wondrous art, That they will speak, and answer them that speak; Nor in half words, and such imperfect sounds, As wont the Eccos that here haunt our grounds, But every word whole, and entire repeating: Nay more then this, the tables, chairs, and stools, Hangings, and all that to each room belongs, Have tongue and voice, and never silent ar; False lies there, formde into the shape of babes, Ar hopping all about; and be he dumb That enters there, finds strait a tongue to prate And lie with; but there is yet worse then this, May happen thee; thou mayest perhaps be turned Into a beast, a tree, a flood, a flame, Into a flood of tears, a fire of sighs. All this he told me; and I forward went To see the City with this false belief; And (as good hap would have it,) chanced to pass Along the place where stands that blessed dwelling, Whence I might hear breath out such melody, By Swans, and Nymph's, and heavenly Sire's made, With voice so shrill, so sweet and full of pleasure, That all amazed, I stayed to gaze, and listen: Before the door there stood (me seemed) as guard Of the fair shows within, a man in show And of proportion stout, and knightly hue; Such as (for what he seemed me) made me doubt Whither for Arms he were, or counsel fitter: With a benign, and mild, though graven aspect, He highly-faire bespoke, and led me in; He great in place, me poor and homely man: But then, what did I see? what did I hear? Celestial goddesses, and lovely Nymph's, New lights, new Orpheusses; and others too Vnuayl'd unclouded, as the virgin-morne, When silver dews her golden rays adorn. There Phaebus shone, enlightening all about, With all his sister Muses; among whom Sat Elpine; at which sighed, all in a trice I felt my self grow greater then my self, Full of new pour, full of new diety? And sang of wars, and Knightly deeds in Arms, Scorning the rural Songs I wont to make; And though I after did (for others pleasure) Turn to these woods again, yet I retaynde Partly of that Spirit; nor yet sounds my pipe So lowly as before, but shriller far. And through the woods rings with a trumpets voice. Afterwards Mopso herd Me; and with so vild, And sour a countenance greeted me, that I Became strait hoarse, and was a long time mute; When all the Shepherd's said, sure I had been Scared with the Wolf; but Mopso was the Wolf. This I have told thee, that thou mayest believe How little this men words deserve belief; And out of doubt, th'hast the more cause to hope, For that this fellow bids thee not to hope. I, naked, but. Why but she does not know That you should meet her there; though (as I say) Shee'll there attend you, do but hast away. His too much love, and her too much disdain Whom he loved so. Why none at all. But with a look full of disdain, hung down The head, and hid her fair lap all she could; He stood vnbrayding her intangled' tresses, And sighing said (the while,) Oh how unworthy Is this rude trunk of so fair knots as these? See what advantage have Loves votaries, That (Like this tree) have with so precious bans Their hearts entwined: Cruel plant, couldst thouse This hair thus injured, that thus honours thee? Then with his hands her hands he fair vnlooz'd, In such a sort, as that he seemed afraid To touch them, yet desired to touch them still: Then stooped he down untie her feet; when she Finding her late bound hands at liberty, Said with a scornful, and disdaining look; Shepherd, I am Diana's; touch me not; Leave me, I shall unbind my feet my self. Strait he with reverence withdrew himself, Not lifting once his eyes to look on her; Barring himself of his delight; that she Might lay no blame on his immodesty. I that was hid near hand, and saw all this, And herd it all, was eu'ne exclaiming on her, But that I curbed my self; see the strange creature; After she was with much ado God lose, Away she hurried strait, swift as a Do, Without so much as 'Thanke ye, or farewell; And yet knew well, she had no cause to fear; So modest and respectful was Aminta. I cannot tell. For (angry) after her I ran amain To have oretane, and stayed her; but in vain; For soon I lost her; and again returning Unto the Fountain where I left Aminta, I found him not; and my heart much misgives me Of some self ill befallen him; for I know He was resolved (before this happened him) To end his life and Misery's together. Ay me, what sayest thou' Aminta? Fie no more Of this strange dotage; be of comfort man And seek some other; others thou mayest find As true, as this is cruel, and unkind. Despair not yet, unhappy though thou be, She may in time relent, and pity thee: Time makes the Tygar and the Lion tame. Perhaps thy sufferance shall not long endure; For maids So inconstant ar of disposition, That as th'ar soon at odds, th'ar as soon won; Uncertain as the leaf Howne with each wind, And flexible as is the bladed grass. But gentle Shepherd, let me crave to know More thoroughly thy loves hard condition; For though I've often herd thee say thou lovest, Thou never tould'st me yet, who 'twas thou lovest; And well it fitts the nearness of our lives, And friendship, that such counsels should be none Between us two, but free to both, as one. On with thy story, for I long to heare't; Perhaps to better end then thou supposest. Did she but hear thus much from thee, believest thou It would not make her love, or pity thee? Well be of comfort; my mind gives me yet, Wee'll find a mean that she shall hear thee speak For shame despair not thus. What Mopo's this thou speakest on? is't not he That carries honey in his supple tongue, And friendly smiles for all he looks upon, But in his heart deceit, and hidden bears Under his coat a razor? shame befall him; The vild unlucky dooms he lewdly sells To silly fools with that graven look, and grace, Ar far from truth; take't of my word, and trial. I'll rather hope (and sure my hope will thrive) That from this fellows idle auguryes Much happier fate will to thy love arise. Fear not it's all my care to cure thy pain: Within this bower see thou be here again. Tush there's no wench so simple but she knows Soon as she leaves the cradle, how to seem Spruce, and delightful; and what arms to use To hurt, or kill outright, and what to heal A wounded heart, and give it life withal. He that instructs the birds to sing and fly; The Fish to swim, the Ram to butt, the Bull To use his horn, the Peacock to display His many-ey'ed-plumes beauty to the day. H'has a name. Why I prithee art not thou Fit enough to teach twenty girls their lessons? I'll warrant thee, I; and yet to speak the troth They need no teacher; Nature teaches them Although the nurse and mother have a partly. All this I will believe: guest I not well? True; heretofore Those of the City were not wont so much To haunt these woods as now adays they do, Nor meaner people in the village bred, To come so much among the citizens; Their bloods are now more mingled, and their cum stomes. But leave we this discourse; and tell me now Couldst thou not find a time Aminta might Either alone, or in thy presence come To speak to Silvia? And he nicely respect full beyond measure. Fear not, I will not speak Ought from thy lips what ere they open to me. But gentle Daphne, for the deer days sake Of thy passed youth, help me to help Aminte Poor wretch that die. Th'art not to seek of wit, nor yet of pour, Do but dispose thy will, I'll ask no more. And what of that? Suppose I hit thy meaning, who knows yet If he will dare to meet her there or no? Do she or not, he does deserve she did. The joys of Venus he enjoys as well, That shunning lovers painful Misery's, Tastes of the sweet, and lets the sour alone. Better it's to be glutted (of the two) Then pine before one feeds, and after two. No man can so possess what he desires, As joust enjoy it then when's hunger craves it. It's dangerous to seek that which once found, Pleases a little, but not found, torments Much more; no, no, I'll go no more a wooing; Cupid shall triumph over me no more; I know a little what those sufferings be, Let others prove them if they list for me. Nor do I wish to buy the plague so deer. Who keeps himself far off, cannot be forced. Who fears & flies. Love but new born, hath wings but short & small, And hardly strong enough to fly with all. Not if we never felt him grow before. Wouldst have the heart (cruel) to see me die? If thou wouldst have me love, why love thou me, And let's now make a loving bargain on't. I do not jest nor mock thee; this is but A colour now to bar me loving thee, As it's the custom of you all to do: But if you will not love me, I'm content, To live still as I do. Oh Daphne, a God this ease hath bred me; he That hath appeared a second God to me By whom so many heards and flocks ar fed From th'one to th'other Sea, upon the fair And fruitful Plains, and on the craggy backs Of the steep Apenines: he said to me, When as he made me his; Thyrsis (quoth he) Let others chase the Wolf, and Thief, and keep A watchful eye over my walled sheep; Let others care be to reward, or punish My Ministers; let others feed and tend My flocks, and keep the account of milk & wool; And take, and pay: take thou thine ease, and sing, Wherefore it's reason good, I let go by All looser strains, and vainer carrolings; And sing his Ancestors, and their high praise, Who is to me Jove, and Apollo both; Since in his looks and deeds he both resembles Issue of Saturn and of Heau'ne. Poor Muse To mean for such a task; and yet how ever Horce voiced, or clear she sings, he not contemns her. I sing not him, too high for my low rhymes, Whom silent adoration only can Worthily honour; but still shall his altars Be sprinkled with my flowers, and never without My humble Incense fuming all about. Which simple (yet devout) religion in me When it shall leave my heart, the Hearts shall feed n the on air; and so the floods shall change heir bed, and course; that Soon shall Persia greet, and the large Tigris Beatrice the French- Alps feet. Then here lies the point; That as thou goest with her unto the fount, Thou use thy best cunning to make her coming, And hear Aminta speak; mean time my care Shall be to make Aminta meet you there. I fear my task will be the hardest of both. Onn then of Gods name. If mine eye fail me not, yond same should be Aminta, that comes hitherward; it's he. Now shall I see what Thirsi' has done for me; And if he have done nothing, ere my woes Melt me'into nothing, I'll go kill my self Before the proud face of that cruel maid, That so delights to see my hearts deep wound Made by her murdering eyes, as sure it can Please her no less, to see her sad command Fulfilled on my own breast with my own hand. News, news Aminta, happy news I bring thee; Clear then thy brow, and cast thy griefs away. I bring thee life and joy, if thou but dare To go and meet them; but I tell thee true Thou must not faint but play the man Aminta. Suppose the Nymph thou lovest were in a wood That (wal'de about with mountains of sharp briers) Were full of Tygars, and of greedy Lyons, Wouldst thou go thither? Were she engaged amongst troops of armed thieves, Wouldst thou go thither? Oh but a harder task asks greater labour. Here then. Siluia' at a Fount, starnak'd, and all alone Attends thy coming; dare'st thou now go thither? Yes all alone, unless haply there be Daphne', who thou knowest is all in all for thee. (ah do not Be ruled by me Aminta, and be happy; Why not let slip that good That fortune (much thy friend) presents thee with. Why but yet tell me, if'twere in thy pour To leave to love her, wouldst thou do't to please her? Why an't be so, In her despite whither she will or no, you'd love her, Yet against her will? And wherefore then Dare you not take of her against her will, That which (although't erkes thee at first to do) In th'end will quite thy pains and please her too. Why then thou wilt not go? Whither then? Is this that I have done then nothing worth? And dost thou think Daphne would counsel thee To go, unless she saw a little more Into thy Silvia's heart, then thou and I? Suppose she has revealed her mind to her; Think you she would abide that any else Should know't? or know she knew it ere the more? So that to covet and express consent On her partly, think you not it were to seek What in all reason must offend her most? Where's this your care then, and desire to please her? Perhaps she would that your delight should be Your own theft, not her gift; what skil't I pray. Whither you have it this, or th'other way? See still how sillily you seek to have That certainty which must of force displease her; And which above all things else you should not crave: But who assures you to the contrary But that she may mean so as well as not? Now if she did, and that you would not go; (Since both the doubts and dangers equal be) Is not a valiant then a base death better? Th'art mute; th'art overthrown; Confess it then; Nor doubt but this thy ouerehrow will be Occasion of a greater victory. Go'we. Why stay? Knowest not how swiftly the time runs away? Wee'll think of all things as we go; but he That thinks too much, does little, commonly. I fear Amintas harms; tell me I pray Saw ye him not? Alas I fear Lest he have slain himself with his own hand. Why love, and hate. I'll tell it willingly; For it's not joust that such ingratitude Should rest without the endue deserved blame. Aminta herd (and I had told it him, And was his conduct too, the gods forgive me) That Silvia was with Daphne gone to Fount To wash themselves; thither then (not without A thousand doubts and fears in him) we went; And twenty times we turned again, (his heart Being all against it,) but that I was feign Almost against his will to force him onn; But drawing near unto the Fount, we herd A sad lamenting voice; and all at once Daphne we spied wringing her hands, and strait Seeing us coming, ah run, run (she cries) Silvia's deflowered. Enamoured Aminta No sooner herd it, but swift as a Pard He flung away; and I made after him: Nor far we went, when lo before our eyes We saw the young maid naked as at her birth, Fast fettr'd by the fair hair to a tree; About whose branches in a thousand knots The curls were linked, and entertwin'de, the girdle That wont to deck, and guard her maiden loins, Served as and actor in her ravishment; Binding her arms about the trees hard trunk, The tree it self became a helper too, For by her feet a branch or two grew out, Which (easy bending) both her tender legs Had fastened to the tree; and face to face A beastly Satyr stood; who but eu'ne then Had newly made and end of binding her, All the defence she could (poor soul) she made; But sure'twould have but little steeded her, Had not we come. Aminta with his dart Slew Like a Lion Upon the Satyr; and I gathered stones; Whereat he fled; and gave Aminta leisure To feast his greedy eyes with her fair limbs, Which trembling seemed as tender, white, & soft, As unprest curds new from the whay divided. Full was her face of anger, grief, and spite; He gently accosting her with modest looks, Spoke thus; Oh lovely Silvia pardon me; Fardon my hands for daring to approach So near these beauteous limbs of thine; alas It is necessity enforceth them, Necessity unloose these bans of thine; And let it (I beseech thee) not displease thee, That Fate has raised them to this happiness. Pray heau'ne he be not of those rare ones then. Well I'll down to the Cave Of the sage Elpine; thither he perhaps Will be retyr'de, if he be yet alive; For there he went full oft to'allay and ease The rage of his bitter calamities, With the sweet found of Elpines Reeds; that win And draw with their alluring voice, to hear them, The hard stones from the craggy mountain tops; Make floods and waterfounts run with pure milk; And oft the rough barked trees against their kinds Distil sweet honey from their bitter rinds. Pitiless (Daphne) was that Pity of thine, When thou heldest back the dart; because my death Will but more painful be, the more delay'de: And now, why dost thou stay me trifling thus, And hold Me in vain with these thy long discourses? If thou be'st fearful of my death, thou fearest My happiness. Perhaps she thought it showed Better; and argued more her modesty.