CLORIS

And hast thou told them? And are there all? And hast thou left them safe my boy? Then while they feed, Clarindo, I must use Thy service in a serious business. But thou must do it well my boy. Dost thou know Thyrsis? But knowest him well? What reason boy? Why then he knows thee too? But hath he herd thee sing my boy? Then doubtless he does well remember thee. Well, unto him thou must a message do From thy sad mistress Cloris; but thou must Doeit exactly well, with thy best grace, Best choice of language, and best countenance. I know thou canst do well, and hast a speech And fashion pleasing to perform the same. Nor can I have a fitter messenger In this employment then thy self my boy. For sure me thinks, noting thy form and grace, That thou hast much of Silvia in thy face: Which if he shall perceive as well as I, Sure, he will give thee audience willingly. And for her sake, if not for mine, hear out Thy message; for he still (though she be dead) Holds sparkles of her unextinguished. And that is death to me: for though sometime Siluta and I most deer companions were, Yet when I saw he did so much prefer Her before me, I deadly hated her; And was not sorry for her death, and yet Was sorry she should come to such a death. But to the purpose, go to Thyrsis, boy: Say, thou art Cloris servant, sent to be The messenger of her distressed tears: Who languishes for him and never shall Have comfort more, unless he give it her. Nay but stay boy, ther's something else. Tell him, his cruelty makes me undo My modesty, and to put on that partly Which appertains to him, that is to woo: And to disgrace my Sex, to show my heart, Which no man else could have had pour to do. And that unless he do restore me back Unto my self, by his Like love to me, I cannot live. Nay but stay boy, there is yet more: Tell him, it will no honour be to him, When ever it shall come to be made known, That he hath been her death that was his own. And how his love hath fatal been to two Distressed nymphs. Nay but stay boy, wilt thou say nothing else, As of thy self, to waken up his love? Thou mayest say something which I may not say, And tell him how thou holdest me full as fair, Yea and more fair, more lovely, more complete Then ever Silvia was. More wise, more stayed, How she was but a light and wavering maid. What sayest thou boy? Do good my boy: but thou must yet add more, As from thy self, & say, what and unkind And barbarous partly it is to suffer thus So beauteous and so rare a nymph to pine And perish for his love; and such a one, As if she would have stooped to others flame, Hath had the gallantest herdsmen of these fields Fallen at her feet: all which she hath despised, Having her heart before by thee surprised. And now does nothing else, but fit and mourn: Speak Thyrsis, weep Thyrsis, sighs Thyrsis, and Sleep Thyrsis when she sleeps, which is but rare Beside, good boy thou must not stick to swear, Thou oft hast seen me sown, & sink to ground In these deep passion, wherein I abound. For something thou mayest say beyond the truth, By reason of my love, and of thy youth. Do, good Clarindo swear, and vow thus much. But dost thou now remember all I say, Dost thou forget no parcel of my speech, Shall I repeat the same again to thee? Or else wilt thou rehearse it unto me? That I may know thou hast it perfect, boy. Ah do good boy. Although I fear it will, Avail me little: for I doubt his heart Is repossessed with another love. With Amarillis, I have herd: for they Are thought, will in the end make up a match. Go good Clarindo, but thou must not fail To work effectually for my avail. And do not stay, return with speed good boy, My passion are to great t'indure delay. Ah cruel youth, whither away so fast? Clarindo though my longing would be feign Dispatched at once, & hear my doom pronounced All in a word of either life or death, Yet do not tell it but by circumstance. Tell me the manner where, and how thou foundest My Thyrsis, what he said, how looked, how fared, How he received my message, used thee; And all in brief, but yet be sure tell all. No, no, it troubled him to hear my name, Which he despises, is he so pervers And way ward still? ah then I see no hope. Clarindo, would to God thou hadst not gone, I could be, but as now, I am undone. That was well done my boy, what said he then? I doubt he noted thee more then thy words, But now Clarindo, what was his reply? Ah now comes that bitter word of But Which makes all nothing, that was said before. That smooths & wounds, that strokes and dashes more Then flat denials, or a plain disgrace. But tell me yet what followed on that But? Return again? no, to what end, If he be so conceited, and so found To entertain a shadow; I have done, And wish, that I had never done so much. Shall I descend below my self, to send To one is not himself? Let him alone With his dead image: you shall go no more Have I here framed with all the art I could This garland decked with all the various flowers, Arcadia yields, in hope he would send back Some cofort, that I might therewith have crowned His love, and witnessed mine, in thendles round Of this fair ring, the Character of faith? But now he shall have none of it, I rather will Rend it in pieces, and dishatter all Into a Chaos, Like his formeles thoughts. But yet thou fairest he wild thee to return, And he would tell thee more. Perhaps thy words might yet so work with him As that he takes this time to think on them, And then I should do wrong to keep thee back. Well thou shalt go, and carry him from me This garland, work it what effect it will. But yet I know it will do nothing. Stay Thou shalt not go, for sure he said but that To put thee off, that he might be alone At his idolatry, in worshipping A nothing, but his self made images. But yet he may be wearied with those thoughts As having worn them long, and end they must: And this my message coming in fit time, And movingly delivered, may take hold: He said thou Wertenberg a moving messenger Clarindo, did he not? Well, thou shalt go; and yet if any thought Of me should move him, he knows well my mind (if not too well) and where he may me find. Thou shalt not go Clarindo, nor will I Disgrace me more with importunity: And yet if such a motion should take fire, And find no matter ready, it would out, And opportunities must not be slacked Clarindo, thou shalt go, and as thou goest, Look to my flock, and so God speed thee well. PAlaemon, you me thinks might something work With Thyrsis my aggrieved son, and found His humour what it is: and why he thus Afflicts himself in solitariness. You two were wont to be most inward friends, And glad I was to see it; knowing you To be a man well tempered, fit to sort With his raw youth; can you do nothing now, To win him from this vile captivity Of passion, that withholds him from the world? Rejoice? ah Lidia, never was there nymph Had more occasion to be sad then I, For I am quite undone and shamed hereby. For I employed this my supposed boy In message unto Thyrsis, whom I loved I must confess, more dearly then my life: And told him all the secrets of my heart. And therefore with what face can ever I Look upon them that know thus much by me? No Lidia, I will now take Thyrsis course: Hide me for ever in these desert woods, And never come in company again; They shall not laugh at me in their great joys.