FLORELLUS

O profaneness! Can he so rudely speak to that blessed virgin, And not be strucken dumb? Ruder yet? I cannot, I will not suffer this; mad fellow, is there No other Nymph in all these spacious woods, To fling thy wild, and saucy laughter at, But her, whom thy great Deity even Pan Himself would honour, do not dare to utter The smallest accent if not clothed with reverence, Nay, do not look upon her but with eyes As humble and submissive as thou wouldst Upon the brow of Majesty, when it frowns, I speak but that which duty binds us all to, Thou shalt not think upon her, no not think, Without as much respect and honour to her As holy men in superstitious zeal Give to the Images they worship. Your lose jests When they are shot at me, I scorn to take Any revenge upon them, but neglect, For then it's rashness only, but as soon As you begin to violate her name, Nature and conscience too bids me be angry, For then it's wickedness. What are you biting? Where did you pick these fragments up of wit. Then you have seen the City. So, no wonder then you spent so fast. But hast thou none to fling thy salt upon But these bright virgins? They're both gone, Direct me now good love, and teach my tongue the enchantments that thou wouldst thy Psyche with. O! be not so cruel, Let me enjoy my self a little while, Which without you I cannot. Alas! thou needest not fear, for the Wolf himself Though hunger whet the fury of its nature, Would learn to spare thy pretty flocks, and be As careful as the shepherd's dog to guard them, Nay if he should not, Pan would present be, And keep thy tender lambs in safety for thee, For though he be a God he would not blush To be thy servant. Are you so fearful of your cattles lose? Yet so neglectful of my perishing, (For without you how can I choose but perish?) Though I my self were most contemptible, Yet for this reason only, that I love And honour you, I deserve more then they do. Nothing I swear that should offend a Saint, Nothing which can call up thy maiden blood To lend thy face a blush, nothing which chaste And virtuous sisters can deny their Brother's, I do confess I love you, but the fire In which Jove courted his ambitious Mistress, Or that by holy men on Altars kindled, Is not so pure as mine is; I would only Gaze thus upon thee; feed my hungry eyes Sometime with those bright tresses, which the wind Far happier then I, plays up and down in, And sometime with thy cheeks, those rosy twins; Then gently touch thy hand, and often kissed it, Till thou thy self shouldst check my modesty And yield thy lips, but further, though thou shouldst Like other maids with weak resistance ask it, (Which I am sure thou wilt not) I'de not offer Till lawful Hymen join us both, and give A licence unto my desires. I hope I may without suspicion of a boaster Say that I am so, else my love were impudence For do you think wise Nature did intend You for a Shepherdess, when she bestowed Such pains in your creation? would she fetch The perfumes of Arabia for your breath? Or ransack Pestum of her choicest roses Adorn your cheeks? would she bereave the rock Of coral for your lips? and catch two stars As they were falling, which she formed your eyes of? Would she her self turn workwoman and spin Threads of the finest gold to be your tresses? Or rob the Great to make one Microcosm? And having finished quite the beauteous wonder, Hide it from public view and admiration! No; she would set it on some Pyramid's, To be the spectacle of many eyes: And it does grieve me that my niggard fortune Raised me not up to higher eminency, Not that I am ambitious of such honours But that through them I might be made more worthy To enjoy you. Pray hear me. Oh stay a little! but two words: she's gone, Gone Like the glorious Sun, which being set Night creeps behind and covers all; some way I must seek out to win her, or what's easier (And the blind man himself without a guide May find) some way to die; would I had been Born a poor shepherd in these shady woods. Nature is cruel in her benefits And when she gives us honey, mingles gall. She said that if she married, the woods Should find a husband for her. I will woo her In Sylvan habit, then perhaps she'll love me — But yet I will not, that's in vain; I will too, It cannot hurt to try. If love cause you To follow him, how can you angry be? Because love forces me without resistance To do the same to you? Love should not be and enemy to reason. Not to love is of't self a kind of hardness, But not to love him who hath always wooed you With chased desires, is nothing less then tyranny. Why do you fly from him that follows you? The Fates command me that I needs must love you. Unhappy man! when I begin to cloth My love with words, and court her with persuasions, She stands unmoved, and does not clear her brow Of the least wrinkle which sat there before; So when the waters with and amorous noise Leap up and down, and in a wanton dance Kiss the dull rock, that scorns their found embraces, And darts them back; till they with terror scattered, Drop down again in tears. We may, and lips too, may we not? Then kiss again. We are the Trigon in Loves Hemisphere. Come let us kiss again. Nay rather sing, your lips are Nature's organs, And made for nought less sweet then harmony. For ever be the tales of Orpheus silent, Had the same age seen thee, that very Poet, Who drew all to him by his harmony, Thou wouldst have drawn to thee. Why here's a fellow now makes sport of every thing, See one men fate how it excels another, He can fit, and pass away the day in jollity, My music is my sighs, while tears keep time. Dost thou see any thing that deserves thy laughter, Found swain? To jeer those who are Fates May-game Is a redoubled fault; for it's both sin, And folly too; our life is so uncertain Thou canst not promise that thy mirth shall last To morrow, and not meet with any rub, Then thou mayest act that partly, to day thou laughest as You take too great a licence to your wit; Wit, did I say? I mean, that which you think so. And it deserves my pity, more then anger. Else you should find, that blows are heavier far Then the most studied jefts you can throw at me. You're unmannerly To talk thus saucily with one you know not, Nay, hardly ever saw before, be gone And leave me as you found me, my worst thoughts Are better company then thou. Thou art a Prophet, Shepherd; She is hard As rocks which suffer the continual siege Of Sea and wind against them; but I will Win her or loose (which I should gladly do) My self: my self? why so I have already: Ho! who hath found Florellus? he is lost, Lost to himself, and to his parents likewise, (who having missed me, do by this time search Each corner for to find me) ôh! Florellus, Thou must be wicked, or for ever wretched, Hard is the Physic, harder the disease. It's a fatal one, Which will almost as much shame me to speak, Much more to act, as it'll fright you to hear it. O! It's a sin young man, A sin which every one shall wonder at, None not condemn, if ever it be known? Me thinks my blood shrinks back into my veins, And my affrighted hairs are turned to bristles. Do not my eyes creep back into their cells As if they seemed to wish for thicker darkness, Then either night or death to cover them? Does not my face look black and horrid too? As black and horrid as my thoughts? would! tell me. Yet stay a little longer; you must stay You are and actor in this Tragedy. Alas! I would do nothing; but I must— I must.—Love thou hast God the victory— Kill thee. O no! there's all the wickedness, they may seem To find excuse for their abhorred fact; That kill when wrongs, and anger urges them; Because thou art so good, so affable. So full of graces, both of mind and body, Therefore I kill thee, wilt thou know it plainly, Because while thou art living, Bellula Protested she would never be another's, Therefore I kill thee. He whom love bids to kill is not a murderer. Fury in ills is half excusable: Therefore prepare thy self; if any sin (Though I believe thy hight and flourishing youth, As innocent as other men's nativities) Hath flung a spot upon thy purer conscience Wash it in some few tears. I must, or be as cruel to my self. Here; see, I do not come ( Draws two swords from under his garment and offers one to Call. ) Like a foul murderer to entrap you falsely, Take your own choice, and then defend your self. Are you ready? the fatal Cuckoo on yond spreading tree Hath sounded out your dying knell already. It's well, and I could wish thy hand Were strong enough; it's thou deservest the victory, Nay, were not Hope of Bellula engraven In all my thoughts, I would my self play booty Against my self; But Bellula —come on. Fight This is the wood adjoining to the Farm, Where I gave order unto Clariana My sister, to remain till my return; Here it's in vain to seek her, yet who knows? Though it be in vain I'll seek; to him that does Propose no journeys end, no path's amiss. Why how now? what do you mean? for shame partly Shep heards, I thought you honest shepherd's, had not had Sees them fighting. So much of Court, and City follies in you. It's Philistus ; I hope he will not know me, Now I begin to see how black and horrid My attempt was; how much unlike Florellus, Thanks to the juster Deities for declining From both the danger, and from me the sin. Fair Mistress— Oh help, help quickly, What do you mean? your Callidorus lives. And will be well immediately, take courage, Look up a little: wretched as I am, I am the cause of all this ill. As winged lightning is. Come Bellula in spite of Fortune now I do embrace thee. Where I could always wish thee: in those arms Which would enfold thee with more subtle knots, Then amorous Ivy, while it hugs the oak. With what ease should I go always were I burdened thus! Exeunt She told me she was sister to Philistus Who having missed the beauteous Callidora, Hath undertook a long, and hopeless journey To find her out; then Callidora is fled, Without her parents knowledge, and who knows When shee'le return, or if she do, what then? Lambs will make peace, and join themselves with wolves Ere she with me, worse then a wolf to her: Beside, how durst I undertake to court her? How dare I look upon her after this? Fool as I am, I will forget her quite, And Clariana shall henceforth— but yet How fair she was! what then? so's Clariana What graces did she dart on all beholders? She did; but so does Clariana too, She was as pure and white as Parian marble, What then? She was as hard too; Clariana Is pure and white as Ericina's Doves, And is as soft, as galless too as they, Her pity saved my life, and did restore My wandering senses, if I should not love her, I were far madder now, then when she found me, I will go in and render up my self, For her most faithful servant. Wonderful! Exit. Enter again. She has locked me in, and keeps me here her prisoner. In these two chambers; what can she intend? No matter, she intends no hurt I'm sure, I'll patiently expect her coming to me. Exit. I am ashamed to look upon their faces. What shall I say? my guilt's above excuse. Here. Here, your unhappy son's the man; for her I put on Sylvan weeds, for her fair sake I would have stained my innocent hands in blood, Forgive me all, 'twas not a sin of malice, 'Twas not begotten by lust, but sacred love; The cause must be the excuse for the effect. They marry not, but fell themselves t'a wife, Whom the large dowry tempts, and take more pleasure To hug the wealthy bags then her that brought them. Let them whom nature bestows nothing on Seek to patch up their want by parents plenty; The beautiful, the chased, the virtuous, Her self alone is portion to her self. By your leave; I come to seek a Daughter. Oh! are you there, it's well. This is her Father, I do conjure you Father, by the love Which parents bear their children, to make up The match betwixt us now, or if you will not Send for your friends, prepare a coffin for me And let a grave be dug, I will be happy, Or else not know my misery to morrow; Would you be gone, and not bestow one word Upon your faithful servant? do not all my griefs and troubles for your sake sustained. Deserve, Farewell Florellus? Alas! how can I, Sweet, unless you stay, Or I go with you? you were pleased ere while To say you honoured me with the next place To Callidorus in your heart, then now I should be first: do you repent your sentence? Or can that tongue found less then Oracle? Yes, I would have her self; if constancy And love be meritorious, I deserve her. Why Father, Mother, Sister, Gentlemen, Will you plead for me? With greater joy then I would take a Crown. They have don't already. How! you speak misty wonders. Her manners showed her noble. Where should we find him out? Do, do; and I'll go study Some newfound ways to vex the fool Malernus. For it's but a folly, To be melancholy, &c. While Callidorus lives, I cannot love thee. These were her parting words; I'll kill him then; Why do I doubt it Fool? such wounds as these Require no gentler medicine; me thinks Love Frowns at me now, and says I am too dull, Too slow in his command: and yet I will not, These hands are virgins yet, unstained with villainy, Shall I begin to teach them?—me thinks Piety Frowns at me now, and says, I am too weak Against my passion. Piety! — IT was fear begotten that Bugbear; for thee Bellula I durst be wicked, though I saw Jove's hand Armed with a naked thunderbolt: Farewell, If thou be'st any thing, and not a shadow To fright boys and old women) Farewell conscience, Go and be strong in other petty things To Lovers come, when Lovers may make use of thee, Not else: and yet,—what shall I do or say? I see the better way, and know it's beteer, Yet still this devious error draws me backward. So when contrary winds rush out and meet, And wrestle on the Sea with equal fury The waves swell into mountains, and are driven Now back, now forward, doubtful of the two Which Captain to obey.