CLORIS

Why Silvia, whence, should all this grief arise? Tell me, sweet Silvia, how comes that to pass? Is't possible Palemon should b'vntrue? If it be so, deer Silvia, I think then That thou sayest truth, there is no trust in men, For I protest I never saw a face That promised better of a heart then his, And if he fail, whose faith then consta to is? Silvia, indeed and I have herd so too. Well Silvia, I have herd so sad a tale, As that I grieve to be a woman born, And that by nature we must be exposed Unto the mercy of unconstant men. But what said then Palaemon in the end? But what assurance have you of his fraud: It may be you suspect him without cause? Pray who was that? tell me good Silvia, tell. Silvia adieu, the Gods relieve thy woes, Since men thus fail, and love no pity shows, Love? nay, I'm taught for loving while I live, Silvia, thy council hath locked up my heart So fast from love, as let them sighs, and grieve, And pine, and wail who will, I for my partly Will pity none of all this raze of men. I see what shows so ever they pretend, Their love is never deadly, none of these That languish thus, have died of this disease That ever I could hear, I see all do Recover soon, that happen thereinto. And if they did not, there were no great hurt, They may endure, they are of stronger powers, Better their hearts should ache, then they break ours. Well had I not be thus forewarned to day, Out of all question, I had shortly fall e, Into the melting humour of compassion too; That tender pity that betrays us thus. For something I began to feel, me thought, To move within me, when as I beheld Amyntas walk so sadly, and so pale, And ever where I went, still in my way, His looks bent all to me, his care of me, Which well I saw, but would not seem to see. But now he hath his arrent, let him go, Pity shall never cure that heart of his T'vndoo mine own, the grief is best where 'tis. Love Techne? I have here as many loves As I intend to have, while I have breath. Boast of my favors, no man rightly can. And otherwise, let them say what they can. I never gave him nosegay in my life. Techne, their idle talk, shall not vex me, I know the ground I stand on, and how free My heart, and I enjoy our liberty, And it Amyntas, hath interpretated My look, according to his own conceit, He hath m stook the text, and he shall find Great difference, betwixt his comment, and my mind And for his Nosegay it shall make me take More care hereafter how I scatter flowers: Let him preserve it well, and let him make Much of his gains, he gets no more of ours. But thus had I be served, had I revealed The least regard of common courtesy To such as these: but I do thank the Gods I have reserved me, from that vanity: For ever I suspected this to be The vain of men, and this now settles me. And for Carinus, let him vaunt what good He did for me, he can but have again My hearty thanks, the payment for his pain, And that he shall and ought in womanhood. And as for love, let him go look on her That sits, and grieves, and languishes for him, Poor Amarillis, who affects him deer, And sought his love with many and woeful tear. And well deserves a better man then be, Though he be rich Lupinus son, and stands Much on his wealth, and his ability, She'is witty, fair and full of modesty. And were she of my mind, she rather would Pull out her eyes, then that she would be seen, To offer up so deer a sacrifice To his wild youth, that scorns her in that wise. What is this creature then you praise a man? Nought else, it is enough he be a man. What hath this man you thus commend fa name? Techne, me thinks, the praises that you give Shows your own love, and if he be that man You say, 'twere good you kept him for your self. For me? alas Techne you move too late. Yes sure, my promise is already passed. No that I may not when it is once passed. The tongue is but the Agent of the heart. And only as commissioner allowed By reason, and the will, for the whole state, Which warrants all it shall negotiate. No I have passed my word to save my self From the deceitful, impious perjuries Of treacherous men, and vowed unto my heart, Until I see more faith then yet I see, None of them all shall triumph over me. Stale why? I have not worn it scarce a month. Now here between you two, kind loving souls, I know there can be no talk but of love, Love must be all the scope of your discourse, Alas poor hearts, I wonder how you can In this deceitful world think of a man. For they do nothing but make fools of you, And laugh when they have done, and prove untrue. Indeed and I had Like so this last night, Had I not looked with such and angry eye, And frowned so sour that I made love afeard, There was a fellow needs forsooth, would have My heart from me whither I would or not, And had as great advantage one could have, I tell you that he had me in a Cave. Truly Dorinda I will tell you how. By no art magic, but a plain devise Of Techne, who would try her wit on me, For she had promised me, to meet me there At such and hour, and thither bring with her A new strange dressing she had made for me, Which there close out of sighed, I should try on: Thither went I poor fool, at hour decreed, And there expecting Technes company, In rushes steering Colax after me. Whom sure she sent of purpose to the place, And there with his affected apish grace And strained speech, offering to seize on me, Out rushed I from him, as indeed, amazed At his so sudden and unexpected sighed. And after follows he, vows, swears, protests By all the gods, he never loved before Any one living in the world but me, And for me only, would he spend his life. And then inveighs against Amintas love, Vaunts his own parts, and his great knowledges, And all so idle, as, in troth me thought I never herd a man more vainly talk, For so much as I herd, for up the hill I went with such a pace and never stayed To give regard to any thing he said: As at the last I scarce had leaft him breath Sufficient to forswear himself with all. And when I had recovered up the hill, I fairly ran away and leaft my man In midst of his conjuring perjuries; All empty to return with mighty lose Of breath and labour, having cast away Much foolish pains in tricking up him self For this exploit, and goes without his game, Which he in hope devoured before he came. And I too, missed my dressing by this means. But I admire how any Woman can? Be so unwise to Like of such a man, For I protest I see nought else but froth, And shallow impudence, affected grace, And some few idle practised compliment: And all the thing he is, he is with out, For affection strives but to appear, And never is of substance, nor Sincere. And yet this dare of falsehood hath beguiled Athousand foolish wenches in his days. Why do you sighs Dorinda are you touched With any of these passages of mine? Well well come on to put us from this talk, Let us devise some sport to pass the time. Then let us tell old tales, repeat our dreams, Or any thing rather then think of love. And now I do remember too, I, had A foolish idle dream, and this it was: Me thought the fairest of Montanus lambs, And one he loved the best of all his flock, Was singled out, and chaced b'a cruel cur, And in his hight pursuit makes towards me, (Me thought) for succour, and about me ran, As if it begged my aid to save his life, Which I long time deferred, and still looked on, And would not res we it, until at length I saw it even quite wourtied out of breath, And panting at my feet and could no more: And then me thought, I took it up from death, And cherished it with me, and brought it back. Home to Montanus, who was glad to see The poor recovered creature thus restored; And I my self was greatly pleasant worser, me thought, That by my hand so good a deed Was wrought, And Amarillis now tell us your dream? This Amarillis may your good portend, That yet you may have comfort in the end. And now Dorinda tell us what you dreamed. In troth it's no good luck to dream of Snakes, One shall be sure hear anger after it. Indeed and I have herd it never fails. Why what does Colax whom you sent to me Into the Cave, faint now with his repulse? If it be done, my help will come too late, And I may stay, and save that labour here. Why whither should I go? I know not where To find him now, and if he do this deed, It is his error, and no fault of mine. Yet pray thee Techne, which way went the man? Why had not you stayed? and persuaded him? Well I will go, poor man, to seek him out, Though I can do him else, no other good. I know indeed he hath deserved my love, And if I would Like any, should be him, So that I thought he would be true to me. But thus my dream may now chance come to pass, And I may happen to bring home indeed Montanus son, Amyntas that deer Lamb He loves so well, and by my gracious deed, He may escape the danger he was in. Which if I do, and thereby do enthral My self, to free another's misery, Then will I fit and sighs, and talk of love As well as you, and have your company. For something I do feel begin to move, And yet I hope it's nothing else but fear; Yet what know I? that fear may hap be love. Well Techne come, I would not have him yet To perish, poor Amyntas in this fit. What is the news? what have we now to do, Have you another Cave to send me too?