CLARINDO

Mistress I have. Yes. All. Safe. The best I can. Yes. I have good reason to know Thyrsis well. I oft have seen the man. Yes I suppose, unless he hath forgotten me of late. He hath. I will. All this I'll tell him too. This will I tell him too. Nay there I leave you, that I cannot say. Nothing, but that I will Endeavour all I can to work his love. It shall not needs: be sure I will report, What you enjoin me, in most earnest sort. Another love? Who may that be, I pray? With Amarillis? Well, yet will I go, And try his humour whither it be so? Good Phillis do not stay me, I have haste. Alas thou dost but trouble mein vain, I cannot help thee: t'is not in my pour. But if I have not, what does it avail In this sort to torment thy self and me? And therefore pre thee Phillis let me go. But that my purpose cannot satisfy, I must be gone, there is no remedy. Believe me Phillis I do pity thee; And more, lament thy error, so farewell. Well, all is well; no Amarillis hath Supplanted Silvia's louein Thyrsis heart, Nor any shall: but see where Cloris looks For what I shall not bring her at this time. All will I tell as near as I can tell. First after tedious searching up and down, I found him all alone, Like a hurt Dear, God under cover in a shady grove, Hard by a little crystal purling spring, Which but one sullen note of murmur held; And where no sun could see him, where no eye Might overlook his lovely primacy. There in a path of his own making, trodden Bore as a common way, yet led no way Beyond the turns he made (which were but short) With arms across, his hat down on his eyes (As if those shades yielded not shade enough, To darken them) he walks with often stops, Uneven pace, Like motions to his thoughts. And when he herd me coming, for his ears Were quicker watches then his eyes, it seemed; He suddenly looks up, stays suddenly, And with a brow that told how much the sighed Of any interrupter troubled him, Beheld me, without speaking any word, As if expecting what I had to say. I finding him in this confused dismay, (Who heretofore had seen him otherwise: I must confess, (for tell you all I must,) A trembling passion overwhelmed my breast, So that I likewise stood confused and dumb, And only looked on him, as he on me. In this strange posture Like two statues we Remained a while; but with this difference set: He blushed, and I looked pale; my face did show Joy to see him, his trouble to be seen. At length bethinking me for what I came, What partly I had to act, I rowzd my spirits, And set my self to speak; although I wished He would have first begun; and yet before A word would issue, twice I bowed my knee, Twice kissed my hand; my Actium so much was More ready then my tongue: at last I told Whose messenger I was, and how I came To intimate the sad distressed case Of and afflicted nymph, whose only help Remained in him: he when he herd the name of Cloris, turns away his head, and shrinks, As if he grieved that you should grieve for him. Have patience Mistress, & but hear the rest. When I perceived his suffering, with the touch And sudden stop it gauc him, presently I laid on all the weights that motion might Procure, and him besought, adjured, invoked, By all the rights of Nature, piety, And manliness, to hear my message out. Told him how much the matter did import Your safety and his fame. How he was bound In all humanity to right the same. He turns about, and fixed his eyes on me, Content to give his ears a quiet leave, To hear me. when I failed not to relate All what I had in charge, and all he hears, And looks directly on me all the while. Thus. Tell fair Cloris, my good boy, how that I am not so disnatured a man, Or so ill born, to disesteem her love, Or not to grieve, (as I protest I do) That she should so afflict her self for me. But. Tell her (said he) that I desire she would Redeem her self at any price she could, And never let her think on me, who am But even the bark, and outside of a man, That trades not with the living, neither can Nor ever will keep other company. Then with the dead. My Silvia's memory Is all that I must ever live withal. With that his tears, which likewise forced mine, Set me again upon another rack Of passion so, that of my self I sought To comfort him the best I could devise. And I besought him that he would not be Transported thus. But know that with the dead He should no more converse: and how his love Was living, that would give him all content, And was all his entire, and pure, and wished To live no longer then she should be so. When more I would have said, he shook his head And wild me speak no further at that time, But leave him to himself, and to return Again anon, and he would tell me more; Commending me for having done the partly Both of a true and moving messenger. And so I took my leave, and came my way. Yes so he said. Yes so he said. A token sent you from the nymph I serve. The gods forbid, rhat I, a servant, should Wear on my head, that which my mistress hath Prepared for yours: Sir, I beseech you urge No more a thing so ill becoming me. I trust you lo enesse hath not so Vnciuil'd you, to force a messenger To do against good manners, and his will. I cannot sing, but I could weep. Because I am not as I wish to be. That can I do, did I but know what kind Of tale you liked. Then such a tale I have, and a true tale, Believe me Sir, although not written yet In any book, but sure it will, I know Some gentle shepherd, moved with passion, must Record it to the world, and well it will Become the world to understand the same. And this it is: There was sometime a nymph, Isulia named, and and Arcadian born; Fair can I not avouch she was, but chaste, And honest sure, as the event will prove; Whose mother dying, left her very young Unto her father's charge, who carefully Did breed her up, until she came to years Of womanhood, and then provides a match Both rich, and young, and fit enough for her. But she, who to another shepherd had Called Sirthis, vowed her love, as unto one Her heart esteemed more worthy of her love, Could not by all her father's means be wrought To leave her choice; and to forgo her vow. Which caused much affliction to the both, This nymph one day, surcharged with love & grief, Which commonly (the more the pity) dwell As Inmates both together, walking forth With other maids, to fish upon the shore; Estrays apart, and leaves her company, To entertain her self with her own thoughts: And wanders on so far, and out of sighed, As she at length was sudainely surprised By Pirates, who lay lurking underneath Those hollow rocks, expecting there some prize. And notwithstanding all her piteous cries, Entreaty, tears, and prays, those fierce men Rend hair, and veil, and carried her by force Into their ship, which in a little Creek Hard by, at Anckor lay, and presently hoised sail, And so away. Thy. Rend hair and veil? and so Both hair and veil of Silvia, I found rend, Which here I keep with me. But now alas What did she? what became of her my boy? When she was thus in shipped, and woefully Had cast her eyes about to view that hell Ofhorrour, whereinto she was so sudainely Implunged, she spies a women sitting with a child Sucking her breast, which was the captains wife. To her she creeps, down at her feet she lies; Oh woman, if that name of woman may Move you to pity, pity a poor maid, The most distressed soul that ever breathed. And save me from the hands of these fierce men, Let me not be defiled, and made unclean, Dear woman now: and I will be to you The faithfullest slave that ever mistress served; Never poor soul shall be more dutiful, To do what ever you command, then I. No toil will I refuse; so that I may Keep this poor body clean and undeflowered, Which is all I will ever seek. For know It is not fear of death lays me thus low, But of that stain will make my death to blu sh. All this would nothing move the woman's heart, Whom yet she would not leave, but still besought; O woman, by that infant at your breast, And by the pains it cost you in the birth, Save me, as ever you desire to have Your babe to joy and prosper in the world. Which will the better prosper sure, if you Shall mercy show, which is with mercy paid. Then kisses she her feet, then kisses too The infants feet, and o sweet babe (said she) Couldst thou but to thy mother speak for me, And crave her to have pity on my case; Thou mightest perhaps prevail with her so much Although I cannot; child, ah couldst thou speak. The infant, whither by her touching it Or by instinct of nature, seeing her weep, Looks earnestly upon her, and then looks Upon the mother, then on her again, And then it cries, and then on either looks: Which she perceiving, blessed child, said she, Although thou canst not speak, yet dost thou cry Unto thy mother for me. Hear thy child Dear mother, it's for me it cries, It's all the speech it hath: accept those cries, Save me at his request from being defiled; Let pity move thee, that thus moves thy child. The woman, though by birth and custom rude. Yet having veins of nature, could not be But peircible, did feel at length the point Of pity, enter so, as out gushed tears (Not usual to stern eyes) and she besought Her husband, to bestow on her that prize. With safeguard of her body, at her will. The captain seeing his wife, the child, the nymph, All crying to him in this piteous sort; Felt his rough nature shaken too, and grants His wives request, and seals his grant with tears; And so they wept all four for company, And some beholders stood not with dry eyes; Such passion wrought the passion of their prize. Sir, never was there pardon, that did take Condemned from the block, more joyful then This grant to her. For all her misery Seemed nothing to the comfort she received. By being thus saved from impurity: And from the woman's feet she would not partly, Nor trust her hand to be without some hold Of her, or of the child, so long as she remained Within the ship, which in few days arrives At Alexandria, whence these pirates were; And there this woeful maid for two years space Did serve, and truly serve this captains wife, Who would not loose the benefit of her Attendance for ll her profit otherwise. But daring not in such a place as that To trust her self in woman's habit, craved That she might be appareled Like a boy, And so she was, and as a boy she served. At two years end, her mistress sends her forth Unto the Port for some commodities, Which while she sought for, going up and down She herd some merchant men of Corinth talk, Who spoke that language the Arcadians did, And were next neighbours of one continent. To them all rapt with passion, down she kneels, Tells them she was a poor distressed boy, Born in Arcadia, and by Pirates took And made a slave in Egypt, and besought Them, as they father's were of children, or Did hold their native country deer, they would Take pity on her, and relieve her youth From that sad servitude wherein she lived: For which she hoped that she had friends alive Would thank them one day, & reward them too; If not, yet that, she knew the heavens would do. The Merchant's moved with pity of her case, Being ready to depart, took her with them, And landed her upon her country coast, Where when she found her self, she prostrate falls, Kisses the ground, thanks gives unto the Gods, Thanks them who had been her deliverers. And on she trudges through the desert woods, Climes over craggy rocks, and mountains steep, Wades through rivers, struggles through bogs, Sustained only by the force of love; Until she came unto the native plains, Unto the fields, where first she drew her breath. There lifts she up her eyes, salutes the air, Salutes the trees, the bushes, flowers, and all: And o deer Sirthis, here I am, said she, Here, notwithstanding all my Misery's. I am the same I was to thee; a pure, A chaste, and spotless maid: o that I may Find thee the man, thou didst profess to be. But now, the better to have notice how The state of things then stood, and not in haste To cast her self on new encumbrances, She kept her habit still, and put her self To serve a nymph, of whom she had made choice Till time were fitting to reveal her self.