TECHNE

Colax, this place well such a purpose fits, Let us fit close, and faith, it shall go hard, Unless we make some profit by their wits. Why will you then Dorinda's love forsake, For whom you travailed so, and made me take Such labour to entice her to your love? And why? Dorinda is as fair as she. Ah but yet Colax do not so much wrong Unto a Nymph, now when thou hast subdued And won her heart, & knowest she holds thee deer. Alas yet I must pity her poor soul In this distress, I being one my self Of that frail corporation, and do know That she will take it very grievously. And yet in troth sh'is served but well enough, That would neglect Mirtillus honest love, And trust strange protestations, and new oaths, Be won with guarded words, and gawdy chothes. In deed while I in Corinth did remain, I hardly could procure the means to live, There were so many of my trade, that sold Complexions, dressings, tiffanies and tires, Devisors of new fashions and strange wiers Bedbrokers, night worms, and Compositors That though I knew these arts as well as they yet being so many we could get small pay. Here, who but Techne now is all in all? Techne is sent for, Techne only shows New strange devises to the choicest Nymph's: And I think Techne teaches them those tricks. As they will not forget again in haste. I have so opened their unapt conceits Unto that understanding of themselves, As they will show in time they were well taught, If they observe my rules, and hide a fault. Colax I will not, and the rather too, For that I bear a little leaning love To Sweet Amintas, for me thinks he seems The loveliest Shepherd all Arcadia yields And I would gladly intercept his love, What Cloris all alone, now fie for shame, How ill does this become so fair a face, And that fresh youth to be with out your love? Nay that you have not, never halt with me, For I know two at least possessors' be Of your kind favors, as themselves do boast. No Cloris did not you the other night A gallant nosegay to Amintas give? Cloris in troth, I Like thy judgement well, In not affecting of those homebred Swains, That know not how to manage true delight, Can neither hide their love, nor show it right. Who would be troubled with gross ignorance, That understands not truly how to love? No Cloris, if thou didst but know, how well Thou art esteemed, of one that knows indeed How to observe thy worth, and his own ways, How to give true delight, how to proceed With secrecy, and wit, in all aslayes, Perhaps you might think one day of the man. A man? yes Cloris, what should he be else? Yea and so rare a man as ever yet Arcadia bred, that may be proud she bred A person of so admirable parts, A man that knows the world, hath seen abroad, Brings those perfections that do truly move, A gallant spirit, and understanding love. Oh if you did but know how sweet it were, To come unto the bed of worthiness, Of knowledge, of conceit, where strange delights With strange discourses still shall entertain Your pleased thoughts, with fresh variety, Ah you would loath to have your youth confined, For ever more, between th'vnskilfull arms Of one of these rude unconceiving Swains, Who would but seem a trunk without a mind; As one that never saw but these poor plains, Knows but to keep his sheep, and set his fold. Pipe on and Oaten Reed, some Rundelayes, And dance a Morrice on the holidays. And so should you be always sweetly sped With ignorance, and two fools in a bed. But with this other gallant spirit you should Be sure to overpass that tediousness, And that satiety which cloys this life, With such a variable cheerfulness, As you will bless the time to-have be his wife. A name? why yes, no man but hath a name. His name is Colax, and is one I swear Does honour even the ground whereon you tread, And oft, and many many times, God knows, Hath he with tender passion, talked of you: And said; Well, there is one within these woods (Meaning by you) that yet of all the Nymph's Mine eyes have ever seen upon the earth, In all perfections does exceed them all. For all the beauty's in that glorious Court Of Telos, where I lived, nor all the Stars Of Greece beside, could sparkle in my heart, The fire of any heat but only she. Then would he stay, and sighs; and then again Ah what great pity such a creature should Be tide unto a clog of ignorance, Whose body does deserve to be embraced, By the most mighty Monarch upon earth. Ah that she knew her worth, and how unfit That private woods should hide, that face, that wit. Thus hath he often said, and this I say, Observe him when you will, you shall not see From his hie forehead, to his slender foot, A man in all parts, better made then he. I must not love impossibilities, Cloris, he were a most fit man for you. Why have you passed your promise t'any yet? And if it be, I trust you are so wise T'vnpasse the same again for your own good. No Cloris, I presume that wit of yours. That is so piersiue, can conceive how that Our promise must not prejudice our good: And that it is no reason that the tongue, Tie the whole body to eternal wrong. But prithee tell me to what rustic Swain You passed your word to cast away your self? Nay then, and be no otherwise 'tis well, We shall have other time to talk of this. But Cloris I have fitted you in faith, I have here brought, the most conceited Tyre, The rarest dressing ever Nymph put on. Worth ten of that you wear, that now me thinks Does not become you, and beside 'tis S ale. A month? why you must change the ̄ twice a day. Hold hither Cloris, this was not well laid, Here is a fault, you have not mixed it well To make it take, or else it is your haste To come abroad so soon into the Air. But I must teach you to amend these faults, And ere I shall have done with you, I think, I shall make some of these enamoured youths To hang themselves, or else run mad for love. But go let's try this dressing I have brought. It's as I tell you, Colax, sh is as coy And hath as shrewd a spirit, as quick conceit As ever wench I broked in all my life. Well if the her, then you shall be sure To have your and yet perhaps that store, You find in her, may check your longing more Then all their wants whom you have tried before. Yes sir, she may be God, but yet I know Sh'will put you to the trial of your wit. That season may you now have very well. For Colax, hath faith fully This evening late me at the cave Of Erycina underneath the hill, Where I must fit her with a new attire. Where with she is far in love, and the other day Thinking to try it at her father's house, (Whither I went with to deal for The old Acri was himself at home, Which did in force us to defer our work Until this evening, that we might alone There out of sighed, more closely do the same: Where while she stays (for I will make her stay For me a while) you at your pleasure may Have opportunity which you desire, Well Colax, she may yet deceive thy Hope's, And I persuade my self she is as Like, As any subtle wench was ever born, To give as wise a man as you the scorn: But see where one whose faith hath better right Unto her love then you, comes here forlorn Like Fortune's outcast, full of heaviness. Ah poor Amintas, would thou knewest how much Thou art esteemed, although not where thou wouldst, Yet where thou shouldst have love in that degree, As never living man had Like to thee. Ah see how I, who sets for others love, Am took my self, and intricated here With one, that hath his heart another where? But I will labour to divert the stream Of his affections, and to turn his thoughts From that coy Cloris, to the liberty Of his own heart, with hope to make him mine. Perhaps she thinks thy heat will be allayed, The fire being gone, and therefore does she well Not to be seen there where she will not aid. If that be all, that hope is at and end, For if thou wilt this evening but attend And walk down under Ericina's grove, And place thy self in some close secret bush, Right opposite unto the hollow cave That looks into the valley, thou shalt see That honesty, and that great modesty. Yes something else will grieve your heart to see But you must be content, and think your self Are not the first, that thus have benedeceiud, With fair appearing outsides, and miss ooke A wanton heart by a chaste steming look. But I con ure you by the love you bear Unto those eyes, which make you (as you are Example of compassion to the world) Fit close and be not seen in any case. Well go and think yet of her honest care, Who gives thee note of such a shameful dead, And judge Amyntas when thou shalt be free, Who more deserves thy love, or I or she. Amyntas must come back I know this way, And here it will be best for me to stay, And here, indeed he comes, poor man I site All quite dismayed and now isle work on him. Come, who tells troth Amynta, who deceives Your expectation now, Cloris, or I? Well I say nothing you know what y'haue seen. Now I may speak I trust you speak to me. Then now I may. But stay Amyntas, now must I begin. Now deer Amyntas, hear me but one word. Ah he is gone, and in that fury gone, As sure he will in this extremity Of his despair, do violence to himself: And therefore now what help shall I devise To stay his ruin? sure there is no means But to call Cloris, and persuade with her To follow him, and to prevent his death; For though this practice was for mine own good, Yet my deceits use not to stretch to blood. But now I know not where I should find out That cruellmaide, but I must cast about. Come you are talking here in jollity, While I have sought you Cloris all about: Come, come, good Cloris quickly come away. Ah talk no more of that but come away, As ever you will save the woeful life Of a distressed man that die for you. I sent him not, you would so wisely go, In open sighed, as men might see you go, And trace you thither all the way you went. But come, ah it's not he, it is the man You ought to save; Amyntas is the man Your cruelty, and rigour hath undone: Oh quickly come, or it will be too late; For 'twas his chance, and most unluckily, To see both you and Colax, as you came Out of the Cave, and he thinks verily You are possessed by him; which so confounds His spirits, and sinks his heart, that sure h'is run T'vndoe himself, and o I fear it's done. Come Cloris, I will show which way he went, In most strange fury, and most desperate speed, Still crying, Cloris, hast thou done this deed? I could not stay him by no means I used. Though all the means I could devise I used. Forsooth he is a very holy man. Truly his name Sir is Pistophoenax. He is not masked, 'tis his complexion sure. Then trust me Cloris he does wrong you much: For he produced it there in open sighed, And vaunted to Carinus, that you first, Did kiss the same, then gave it unto him: And told too, how far gone you were in love, What passion you would use, when he was by, How you would jest with him, and wantonly Cast water in his face; call his dog yours, And show him your affections by your eye. And then Carinus on the other side He vaunts, that since he had redeemed you Out of the satyrs hands, he could command Your love and all, that you were only his. This and much more, I herd them I protest Give out of you, how truly you know best. Well well Amintas, little dost thou know With whom that cunning wanton sorts her self, While thus thou mournest, and with what secret wiles She works, to meet her lover in the woe des, With whom in groves, and caves she allying sits, And mocks thy passion, and thy doleful fitts. Now fie Amyntas, why should you thus grieve For a most foolish way ward girl, that scorns Your honest love, and laughs at all you do; For shame Amyntas let her go as You see her vain, and how perversely set, It's found so follow what we cannot get. Think? whereon should you think? y'haue thought enough And too too much, on such a one as she. Whom now you see y'haue tried her honesty: And let her go proud girl accordingly, There's none of these young wanton things that know How use a man, or how to make their choice. Or answer men's affections as they ought, And if you will think, think she is not worth a thought. Good Techne, leave me for thy speech and sighed Bear both that disproportion to my grief, As that they trouble, trouble and confound Confusion in my sorrows, which does loath That found of words, that answers not the tone Of my dispayres in accents of Like moan, And now hath sorrow no worse plague I see, Then free and vnpartaking company. Who are not in the fashion of our woes, And whose affection do not look likewise Of that complexion as our Misery's? And therefore pray thee leave me or else leave To speak, or if thou speak let it not be To me, or else let me, not answer thee. Truly it is a very honest man A friend of mine that comes to see me here.