Chapter XX: Epilogue: WELCOME the Host (2)

DEL. If you could crown me with your virtues, madam,
I should be a queen indeed; in the meantime,
As I am Delia, I'll do this business.

SYL. Do it, and when th' hast done, the god of love
Reward thee with thine own desires for this.

DEL. Madam, withdraw; I hear your keepers coming. [_Exeunt._

SCENA II.

CLEANDER, EUBULUS.

Sir, you have put a bridle on my passions,
And given my soul the liberty it wish'd:
I now entreat your pardon for beginning
A thing of so great consequence without
Leave and advice from you.

EUB. 'Tis well, Cleander,
It will behove you then to be reserv'd,
And lock this secret up: for 'tis no jesting
With kings, that may command our lives and fortunes:
You now perceive her, whom we call the princess,
To be your sister, and the love you bear her
Must be a brother's friendship, not a lover's
Passionate heat; but yet she must not know,
That I her father am, and you her brother:
And trust me, son, had I not seen despair
Of life in you, which this love brought you to,
I should not have reveal'd what now you know.

CLE. It was a comfort, sir, I do confess,
That came in time to rescue me from death,
So great her scorn was, and my love so violent.

EUB. Now you're at peace, I hope?

CLE. I am: but if
I be too curious in asking where
The king's son is, I shall desire your pardon:
For, sure, it were injustice to deprive
So great a prince of that which he was born to.

EUB. You are too far inquisitive; yet because
I have engag'd you in a secret of
As great importance, this I will not hide.
The king, I told you, when his wife grew near
The time of her delivery, sent to know
Of our great oracle whether the child should be
Female or male, and what should be its fortune.

CLE. What said the oracle? have you the answer?

EUB. It only was imparted unto me,
And this it is, which I have never shown
To any but the queen. Here take and read it.

_If e'er thy issue male thou live to see,_
_The child thou think'st is thine, thine shall not be;_
_His life shall be obscure: twice shall thy hate_
_Doom him to death. Yet shall he 'scape that fate:_
_And thou shalt live to see, that not long after_
_Thy only son shall wed thy only daughter._

This oracle is full of mystery.

EUB. It is; and yet the king would needs interpret
That, should it prove a man-child, 'twas a bastard:
And being loth that one not of his blood,
As he conceived by this, should be his heir,
Told me in private that, if it were male,
He would not have it live; yet, fearing most
To publish his dishonour and his wife's,
He charg'd me not reveal it unto any,
But take the child and see it made away,
And make the world believe it was still-born.

CLE. And did you so?

EUB. No, for indeed I durst not
For anything become a murderer.

CLE. How did you then?

EUB. I went unto the queen,
Show'd her the state she was in, and besought her
To be as careful of me as I was
Of her, and we would work a better end
Than she expected. So we both agreed
That, if the child she then did labour with
Proved to be a male, I should with care conceal
The birth of it, and put a female child
Instead of it, which I was to look out.
It fortun'd that your mother then was ready
To be deliver'd of your sister, and
Time and good fortune did conspire to save
The king's child and to make my daughter princess.

CLE. But what did then become of the young prince?

EUB. The queen protesting to me that it was
The king's own child, conjur'd me to preserve it,
Which as mine own I could not; for already
Many took notice that my child was female,
And therefore I was fain to publish her
As dead, and buried an empty coffin.
I rode forth with the child a full night's journey,
With purpose to deliver it to some
Plain honest man, that would be careful of it,
And not inquisitive to know whose child
It was, but give it breeding as his own:
When, being frighted with the noise of arms
Of some outlawed thieves, that did infest
The place, I made all haste I could to 'scape 'em,
Considering my charge; for that I knew,
If I were taken, though they spar'd my life,
The charge I had must needs betray me to
The king, and then I could not hope for mercy
I laid it down there, cover'd closely o'er,
A circle 'bout his neck, wherein was writ--

_Archigenes, son of Euarchus and Eudora_

In characters known only to myself
And to the king, in which I us'd to clothe
Secret despatches when I writ to him
From foreign states, and within the circle
I grav'd the king's less seal, which then I kept.
Some gold besides and jewels there I left,
That, whosoe'er should find him might with that
Defray the charge of his education;
Howe'er, next day I purposed to return
With speed, and carry it to some abode.

CLE. But did the queen know this?

EUB. She did not,
Till my return next day: then, when I told her,
The child was thence remov'd where I had left him.

CLE. Belike those thieves had carried him away.

EUB. 'Tis probable.

CLE. How could the queen take this
So sad a story?

EUB. With such impatience
That, being weak before, she shortly died.

CLE. But yet, sir, with your favour, might you not
Have made inquiry after him?

EUB. I durst not,
For fear of being discover'd. On your life,
Take heed how you reveal this.

CLE. I am charm'd.

EUB. Then let us watch my daughter, for I fear
The flight she made was for some other end
Than for retirement, which she does pretend.

CLE. Henceforth I shall obey her as my princess,
And love her as my sister, not my mistress.

EUB. You shall do well: come, let us to the king.

SCENA III.

HYLAS, MIRTILLUS, _Chorus of shepherds and shepherdesses,_
_representing Paris, OEnone, Venus,_
_and the Graces_.

HYL. It was my dream, and I will send it to her;
Though I myself by her too cruel sentence
Must never see her face.

MIR. What paper's that?
Love verses, as I live! What's here? a dream!
Nay, I will read 'em: therefore stand aside.

MIRTILLUS _reads_.

_Sleep, thou becalmer of a troubled sprite,_
_Which lead'st my fancy to that sweet delight_
_Wherein my soul found rest when thou didst show_
_Her shadow mine whose substance is not so,_
_Wrap up mine eyes in an eternal night:_
_For since my day springs only from that light,_
_Which she denies me, I account the best_
_Part of my life is that which gives me rest._
_And thou, more hard to be entreated than_
_Sleep to the heated eyes of frantic men;_
_That thou canst make my joys essential_
_Which are but shadows now, be liberal,_
_And outdo sleep; let me not dream in vain,_
_Unless thou mean'st I ne'er shall sleep again._

Alas, poor soul! will she not let thee sleep?

HYL. I knew I should be mock'd, but I'll divert him. [_Aside._
What are those thou hast brought along with thee?

MIR. The masquers, Hylas; these are they must trip it
Before the king: dost like their properties?

HYL. What, Paris and OEnone--the old story?

MIR. But newly made, and fashion'd to my purpose;
Brought hither to make good my own positions
Against the company of puling lovers;
Which if I do not, and with good effect,
Let me be one myself; and that's a torture
Worse than Apollo laid upon the satyr,
When the rude villain durst contend with him.
Look this way, Hylas; see OEnone here--
The fairest nymph that ever Ida bless'd,
Court her departing shepherd, who is now
Turning his love unto a fairer object;
And for his judgment in variety.
See how the sea-born goddess and the Graces
Present their darling Helena to him!
Be happy in thy choice, and draw a war
On thee and thine, rather than set thy heart
Upon a stale delight. Do, let her weep,
And say thou art inconstant. Be so still;
The queen of love commands it: you, that are
The old companions of your Paris here,
Move in a well-pac'd measure, that may show
The goddess how you are content for her
Fair sake to leave the honour of your woods;
But first let her and all the Graces sing
The invitation to your offering.

_Venus and the Graces sing._

_Come, lovely boy, unto my court,_
_And leave these uncouth woods, and all_
_That feed thy fancy with love's gall;_
_But keep away the honey and the sport._
CHORUS. _Come unto me,_
_And with variety_
_Thou shalt be fed, which nature loves and I._

2.

_There is no music in a voice_
_That is but one, and still the same:_
_Inconstancy is but a name_
_To fright poor lovers from a better choice._
CHORUS. _Come then to me, &c._

3.

_Orpheus, that on Eurydice_
_Spent all his love, on others scorn,_
_Now on the banks of Hebrus torn,_
_Finds the reward of foolish constancy._
CHORUS. _Come then to me, &c._

4.

_And sigh no more for one love lost:_
_I have a thousand Cupids here,_
_Shall recompense with better cheer_
_Thy misspent labours and thy bitter cost._
CHORUS. _Come then to me, &c._

_The dance ended, enter a Messenger._

NUN. Shepherds, if you have any pity, come
And see a woful spectacle.

MIR. What is't,
That can be worth the breaking of our sports?

NUN. The gentle nymph Nerina--

HYL. What of her?

NUN. The last of her: I think see lies a-dying,
And calls to speak with you.

HYL. Curse of your follies!
Do I live here whilst she is dying there?

MIR. But, shepherd, what disease is't that so soon
Could spend his force upon her? she was well
This morning, when she made poor Hylas sick.

MON. I know not; I am sent unto the well
Of Esculapius to fetch some water
For her recovery. I must be gone. [_Exit._

MIR. Shepherds, here let us end. I think we are
Perfect in all the rest. This night the king
Must see't, resolve on that.

CHORUS. We are all ready.

MIR. Then let's away, and see what will betide
This gentle nymph Nerina.

CHORUS. We'll go with you.

SCENA IV.

CHARINUS, NERINA, DORINDA, HYLAS, MIRTILLUS,
NUNTIUS.

Hold up thy head, good child: see, he is come.
Bring me the water quickly, whilst there is
Some life in her. Now chafe her, good Dorinda.

NER. All is in vain, I cannot live; dear father,
Farewell. What shepherd's that lies on the ground?
Is it not Hylas?

DOR. Yes, it is he, Nerina.

NER. Alas, poor shepherd! 'tis my greatest grief,
That I have grieved him; I would beg life
For nothing but to make him satisfaction.

MIR. Hylas, what, on the ground! look up and speak:
Alas, he's dead!

NER. It cannot be: good father,
Let me go to him, and but touch his ear,
It may be that my voice may have more virtue.

CHAR. Do what thou wilt, sweetheart: see, my poor child,
How charitable she is: being half-dead
Herself, she pities others.

MIR. Mark her finesse,
How at the brink of death she kisses him,
And took this way to mock her simple father:
O fine invention! sure, a woman's wit
Does never fail her. [_Aside._

NER. Hylas, Hylas, speak,
Nerina calls thee! speak to thy Nerina!

MIR. What cannot love do? It revives the dead,
He's come to himself again!

HYL. What god is it
That has the power to return my soul
From the Elysian fields?

MIR. It is no god:
A goddess rather, Hylas. 'Tis Nerina,
Look where she is!

HYL. Ah! then I do not wonder
I cannot die, when my best soul comes to me:
Shall we live ever thus?

NER. How fain I would
For thy sake, Hylas; but it cannot be:
I feel a heavy sleep sit on my head,
And my strength fails me; help me, sweet Dorinda,
Farewell for ever! O, I die, I die!

HYL. And must I then be call'd to life again,
To see my life expire before my face?
You Fates, if you will take a ransom for her,
Then take my life: but you are sure of that,
You'll say, already; for in her one death
Two lives are forfeit. Nerina, gentle nymph,
The cause why now I live, open these eyes
Once more, and I shall flourish like those plants
The sun gives life to: else I fall and wither,
Leaving behind nought but a worthless stem.
Speak to thy Hylas, sweet Nerina, speak.

CHAR. Ah me! my daughter, hadst thou liv'd, perhaps
I might have seen thee married to Daphnis,
Now we must see thee buried. Ah me!

NER. Hylas!

HYL. She lives! give me some more of that----
That water there, see now she comes again!
O gentle Destinies, but spare this thread,
And cut a thousand coarser! Speak, Nerina;
Give me some comfort, give thy father some,
Or else behold three lives fall in thy death.

NER. Ye Fates, that keep th' account of all our days,
Add but one minute to my life, that I
May quit my soul of those two heavy burthens,
Which now oppress it: dry your eyes, good father,
Remember that the gods do send us nothing
But for our good; and if my journey be
Shorter than yours, the less will be my trouble.
Will you forgive me, father, that I have not
Paid so much duty to you as I ow'd you?
Take my good-will, I pray, instead of it.

CHAR. See her good nature. Ay, child, 'tis enough,
Thou always wert obedient.

NER. Shall I dare
To speak my thoughts, and so discharge my soul
Of one load yet?

CHAR. Ay, do, my child; speak freely.

NER. I've heard you say that no sin was so heavy
As is ingratitude.

CHAR. Tis true, Nerina.
How she remembers what her father said!

NER. Then be not angry, if I now must tell you,
That this poor shepherd, whose swoll'n eyes you see
Cover'd with tears, for many years now pass'd
Has courted me: but still with such a love,
So full of truth and gentle services,
That should I not requite him with my love,
I should be guilty of ingratitude.
Therefore, before I die, I pray give leave
That he may have my dying heart, which living
I still debarr'd him of. Hylas, thy hand!
O, stay a little, death: here, take thou mine,
And since I cannot live the wife of Hylas,
Yet let me die so. Sir, are you content?

CHAR. I am with anything that pleaseth thee.

NER. Tell me, are you so, Hylas?

HYL. O my love,
Ask me if I would live amongst the gods,
But ask not this. Sir, have we your consent?

CHAR. You have: it is in vain now to deny it.
You see, Dorinda, what her vow's come to!

NER. Then let me die, take me into thy arms,
Sweet love, you'll see my coffin strew'd with flowers,
And you, Dorinda, will you make a garland?
I die a virgin, though I die his wife.

DOR. Alas, she's gone!

HYL. She's dead, and do I live?

CHAR. Look to the shepherd there! O my Nerina!

DOR. Vex not her soul, I pray, with often calling;
You see she's dead.

CHAR. Then there is no hope left:
Pray help us, shepherds, now to bear her hence;
You'll come, I hope, to see her in her grave. [_Exeunt._

ACTUS IV., SCENA I.

THYRSIS, DELIA.

Here I am come unto a place where grief,
They say, has no abode. In princes' courts,
I've heard there is no room for love's laments:
For either they enjoy or else forget.
Thrice-happy men, to whom love gives such leave!
It may be that this place or people may
Work so with me, and melt this frozen heart:
Ah fool! that can'st believe the change of place
Or air can change thy mind; the love thou bear'st
Is woven so within thy thoughts, that as
Out of this piece thy Sylvia wrought for thee,
Thou can'st not take her name forth, but withal
Thou must deface the whole: so, Thyrsis, think
The wind that here may rise, or heat or rain,
Thou may'st avoid, thy love will still remain;
And when thou diest, then may it die with thee;
Till then resolve to endure thy misery.

_Enter_ DELIA.

DEL. This is the garden which I saw him go to,
And that is he; for all the marks she gave me
To know him by he bears.

THYR. A heaviness
Weighs down my head, and would invite me to
Repose myself; I'll take the offer; here
I'll rest awhile, for I have need of it.

DEL. How if I be deceived, and this should prove
Another man! What then? I can excuse it.
He's laid already, and (I fear) asleep;
I'll stay until he wake; but then suppose
That anybody come, and take me here,
What will they think of me? Best wake him. Shepherd!
It is a handsome youth: see what a grace
Shows itself in his feature--such a face
Might take the heart of any lady living,
Ay, though she were a princess. Shepherd! what,
Not yet? his sleeps are sound.

THYR. Ah Sylvia, [_Speaks in his sleep._
Preserve thy life! O, let me die. Alas!
I do but dream. Methought I saw myself
Condemn'd to die, and Sylvia, to save me,
Offer'd herself, and would needs die for me.
'Twas a sweet shadow: let me court this dream.

DEL. He must not sleep again: shepherd, look up.

THYR. Who envies me this small repose? Indeed
I do not often sleep: ha, who are you?

DEL. Sent to thee from thy Sylvia. Shepherd, rise,
And follow me.

THYR. Do I dream still! What are you?
Came you from heaven, where my Sylvia is,
And must I thither? whosoe'er you are,
An angel or a fiend, in such a name
You come, as I'm conjur'd to follow you:
But I must die first. Here is to be with thee.

[_Offers to stab himself._

DEL. Stay, hold thy hand: she lives--thy Sylvia lives
To make thee happy, if thou wilt go to her.

THYR. You're habited like those I've seen at court;
And courtesy, they say, is ever there,
Yet mingled with deceit. If you do mean
T' abuse me for your sport, this way will prove
Too sad to raise mirth out of. There's no ill
That I have done to you or any else,
Unless my constancy be here a sin.

DEL. His griefs have made him wild. [_Aside._
I have no time
Left me to use persuasions, or to make
This truth apparent to you; on my word,
You shall be safe; and if you dare believe me,
I'll bring you where your love is; follow me.

THYR. Why should I doubt, or fear to go with her?
Ill does he call for physic whom the law
Has doom'd to die. There's no condition
Can prove worse to me than my present one.
Pray, lead me where you please; I'm sure of this:
To one that's desperate no way's amiss. [_Exeunt._

SCENA II.

EUARCHUS, EUBULUS, CLEANDER, _Attendants_.

All leave the room. Eubulus, I'm resolv'd
To hold an easier hand over my daughter
Than I was wont: therefore I sent Cleander
To bring her to my presence. Though she have
Wrong'd her great birth and breeding by her follies,
Yet I consider that she is my daughter,
And this restraint cannot but harden her
In her fond resolutions. Have you sought
By all the means you can to sift the cause
Of her departure?

EUB. Sir, I have tried
By all the ways that fit a subject, to
Inquire a truth of one that is his princess.

EUAR. And what have you discover'd?

EUB. Nothing more
Than what my son Cleander did before.

EUAR. I have heard his relation: but [I] wonder
How for a whole month's time she should abide
Within our confines, when so great a search
Through all our countries, and loud proclamations,
Were made for her recovery.

EUB. 'Tis true.
She herein was ingenuous, and confess'd
That she foresaw what search would be made for her:
Therefore with some about her she had plotted
To hire a bark that might convey her hence
In a disguise to Smyrna, where she stay'd
Till time did fit her, that with safety
She might return in habit of a nymph
Unto the place where then Cleander found her:
But why she left the court she will not tell.

EUAR. I will not force her to't: some little time
Perhaps may make discovery of that secret.
But unto thee, my faithful councillor
(As unto one my heart hath still been open),
I will discover what my purpose is
In sending for these shepherds to my court.

EUB. I should believe they're sent for to delight
Your majesty, as they were wont.

EUAR. No, Eubulus;
But for a greater end: I fear my daughter,
And therefore I have sent for her to see
These sports with purpose to observe her looks.
For I suspect she loves some shepherd there.

EUB. It cannot be: she will not stain her birth
With such ignoble love; yet I confess,
Revolving all the causes of her strange
Departure, I could fix on none but that.

EUAR. Well, if she do so, I will let her forth--
Forth of my blood; and whosoe'er he be
Whose fortune mark'd him out to be the object
Of this her love, shall find Ixion's fate,
He shall embrace a shadow. By my life,
They both shall die.

EUB. O my gracious lord,
Remember she's your daughter!

EUAR. Ay, thou still
Dost plead for her, but yet am I her king
As well as father; private men respect
Their profits and their private interests
Of kindred, but the actions of a king
To honour and renown must be directed:
Consider that, and then thou wilt forget her.

_Enter_ CLEANDER.

Cleander, welcome! how does Calligone?
Is she not glad to come unto our presence?
Why dost not answer? Art thou frighted, man?

CLE. I know not how to answer anything,
Unless your majesty will sign my pardon.

EUAR. Why, what's the matter? speak, and speak it freely.

CLE. Then know, great sovereign, that, when I went
As full of joy as speed, with your glad message,
I found the princess----

EUAR. What, not dead, I hope?

CLE. Dead to her honour.

EUAR. Ha!

CLE. In short, my lord,
I found her walking in the garden with
A shepherd--more of him I cannot tell;
But she was habited in that attire
She wore, when from the woods I brought her home.
I slipp'd away, not being seen by them,
And if you please to go, perhaps, great sir,
You still may find them there.

EUAR. How now, Eubulus,
Are my presages true? Shall I then sleep
With this disgrace, and let my neighbour princes
Mock at my humble fortunes, when they hear
The daughter of Euarchus match'd herself
With a base shepherd? Go, Eubulus, quickly:
Here take my signet; let this be your warrant
To put them both to death.

EUB. How! both, my lord?

EUAR. Ay, both.

EUB. Your daughter too?

EUAR. Why do you question me?
Have I not said they both shall die: despatch.
Let me not see thee till they both be dead. [_Exit._

EUB. What hast thou done! thou rash, inhumane boy?
Depriv'd thy father of a child, thyself
Of thine own sister, whom but now thou knew'st?
Well may the king take that dear life away
Which he did never give: I will go tell him
I am her father: but I lose my life
If I do that, as guilty of a treason.
Go, murderer, hadst thou no pity in thee!

CLE. Sir, I do feel so much grief within me
For this my act that, if my blood will serve
To save her life, I'll make no price of it:
Yet could I not imagine that the king
Would have been so enrag'd; or if he would,
I had no time to think of it before.

EUB. No time! who bid thee hasten to the ruin
Of thy poor father and thy family?
The messages which come to do us hurt
Are speedy; but the good come slowly on.

CLE. But, sir, remember what a strait we're in:
It will concern us to invent some way
To save my sister, though the shepherd die;
He will deserve it for his bold attempt.

EUB. Go, take thy way, whither thou wilt, thyself;
That way is best which leads me to my grave. [_Exit._

CLE. What luck is this? This is more haste than speed:
I am resolv'd, though my life lie at stake,
To stand the fury of th' enraged king:
Who knows but he may be as sorry for
His sudden act, as I for mine. 'Tis here
To save her, though it cost her lover dear. [_Exeunt._

SCENA III.

SYLVIA, THYRSIS.

Nay, stay a little, Thyrsis; we are safe.
My wary keepers now are with the king.

THYR. Madam, for my poor self I do not fear;
But when I think on you, and how your name
And state, that is so eminent, must needs
Receive a certain scandal and foul blot
If we be seen together, blame me not,
Though I do fear or doubt. What cruel fate,
Angry with men, that gave us hearts alike
And fortunes so asunder? You're a cedar,
I a poor shrub, that may look up unto you
With adoration, but ne'er reach your height.

SYL. But, Thyrsis, I do love you. Love and death
Do not much differ; they make all things equal:
The monuments of kings may show for them
What they have been; but look upon their dust--
The colour and the weight of theirs and beggars'
You'll find the same: and if, 'mongst living men,
Nature has printed in the face of many
The characters of nobleness and worth,
Whose fortune envies them a worthy place
In birth or honour, when the greatest men,
Whom she has courted, bear the marks of slaves,
Love (sure,) will look on those, and lay aside
The accidents of wealth and noble blood,
And in our thoughts will equal them with kings.

THYR. 'Tis true, divinest lady, that the souls
Of all men are alike, of the same substance,
By the same Maker into all infus'd;
But yet the several matters which they work on--
How different they are, I need not tell you.
And as these outward organs give our souls
Or more or less room, as they are contriv'd,
To show their lustre, so again comes fortune
And darkens them, to whom the gods have given
A soul divine and body capable
Of that divinity and excellence.
But 'tis the order of the Fates, whose causes
We must not look into. But you, dear madam,
Nature and fortune have conspir'd to make
The happiest alive.

SYL. Ah me most wretched!
What pleasure can there be in highest state,
Which is so cross'd in love--the greatest good
The gods can tell how to bestow on men?

THYR. Yet some do reckon it the greatest ill,
A passion of the mind, form'd in the fancy,
And bred to be the worst disease of reason.

SYL. They that think so are such as love excludes:
Men full of age or foul deformity.
No, Thyrsis, let not us profane that deity:
Love is divine, the seed of everything,
The cause why now we live, and all the world.

THYR. Love is divine, for if religion
Binds us to love, the gods, who never yet
Reveal'd themselves in anything to us
But their bright images, the fairest creatures
Who are our daily objects; loving them,
We exercise religion: let us not
Be scrupulous or fear; the gods have care
Of us and of our piety.

SYL. But take heed:
We cannot be too wary. Many things
Oppose our wills; yet, if you think it fit,
And this night's silence will so favour us,
We'll go together: if we quit this country,
It is no matter: all the world to me
Will be Arcadia, if I may enjoy
Thy company, my love.

THYR. No, Sylvia--
Pardon me, dear, if still I call you so--
Enjoy your fortunes; think how much your honour
Must suffer in this act! For me, I find,
It is enough that I have ever lov'd you:
Now let me, at the light of your bright eye,
Burn like the bird whose fires renew her nest;
I shall leave you behind me to the world,
The Phoenix of true love and constancy:
Nor is that bird more glorious in her flames,
Than I shall be in mine, though they consume me.

SYL. It must not be; for know, my dearest shepherd,
I shall not tell one minute after thee;
I find my soul so link'd to thine, that death
Cannot divide us.

THYR. What then shall we do?
Shall we resolve to live thus, till we gaze
Our eyes out first, and then lose all our senses
In their succession? Shall we strive to leave
Our souls breath'd forth upon each other's lips?
Come, let us practise: this our envious fates
Cannot deny us.

_Enter_ CLEANDER.

CLE. What a sight were this,
To meet her father? This would make him mad
Indeed, and execute his rage himself.
Madam, your father's here!

SYL. Ha, Delia!
Cleander, is it thou? then I'm betray'd
The second time; but must thy fortune make thee
The instrument of my undoing still?

CLE. Shepherd, I will not honour thee so much
As to inquire thy name: thou hast done that
Thou wilt pay dear for, and I hope thy death
Will take away the blot of this disgrace
Th' hast laid upon the princess.

THYR. If you do this,
You'll make me happy: it was this I look'd for,
My trivial acts of life this of my death
Will recompense with glory; I shall die
To save my princess, and what's more, to save
The life of her life, her unspotted honour.
Bless'd lady, though you are as innocent
And chaste as purest virgins that have yet
Seen nothing in a dream to warm their blood,
Yet the malicious world, the censuring people,
That haste to cast dirt on the fairest things,
Will hardly spare you, if it once be known
That we were here together. As for me,
My life is nothing but variety
Of grief and troubles, which with constancy
I have borne yet; 'tis time that now I die,
Before I do accuse the gods, that have
Brought me to this, and so pull on my death
A punishment. Will you be merciful,
And end me quickly?

CLE. Shepherd, know for this
Thy resolution, which in noble bloods
I scarce have found, I willingly would grant
What thou desir'st. But something must be known
Before that time either from you or you.

SYL. I know, Cleander, it is me you aim at:
I do confess, this shepherd is my love;
For his sake I did leave the court and thee,
Unworthy as thou art to be his rival.

CLE. Madam, my duty bids me speak to you,
Not as a lover now, but as you are
My princess and the daughter of my king.
I would not for the world have those desires
Which I had then; for, sure, my bolder love
Would have transgress'd the limits of all duty,
And would have dar'd to tell you that this shepherd
Was not a match for great Arcadia's heir,
Nor yet one fit for my competitor.
'Tis not his outward feature--which how fair
It is, I do not question--that can make him
Noble or wise; whereas my birth, deriv'd
From ancient kings, and years not far unsuiting
Those of your own--to these my education,
To you well known, perhaps might make me worthy
Of being your servant.

SYL. Can'st thou look on this,
This piece, Cleander, and not blush to boast
Thy follies thus, seeking to take away
From his full virtue? If but this one act
Of his appear unto the world, as now
It shall; for I'll not shame to publish him,
Though I die for it: will it not devour
Thy empty glories and thy puff'd-up nothings
And (like a grave) will bury all thy honours?
Do, take his life, and glory in that act;
But, be thou sure, in him thou shalt kill two.

CLE. What mean you, madam?

SYL. Not to live a minute
After his death.

CLE. That all the gods forbid!

SYL. No, they command it rather, that have made
Our souls but one. Cleander, thou wert wont
To be more courteous; and I do see
Some pity in thee: if not for pity's sake,
Yet for thine own good, spare his life, and take
Mine; for thou know'st, when I am dead, this kingdom
Thy father will inherit or thyself.
'Tis but the waiting of an old man's death,
Who cannot long outlive me: will you do't?

THYR. Sir, you are noble, I do see you are,
You lov'd this lady once: by that dear love--
With me it was a conjuration
To draw my soul out, whilst I was so happy--
I do beseech you spare her noble life,
Her death will sit full heavy on your soul,
And in your height of kingly dignities
Disturb that head which crowns will give no rest to.
To take my life is justice.

SYL. Rather mine;
I have offended in first loving him,
And now betraying him unto his end.

THYR. Be not so cruel, madam, to yourself
And me, to envy me a death so noble.
Sir, as you hope your love shall ever prosper,
Your great designs, your fights, whate'er they are;
As you do hope for peace in your last hour,
And that the earth may lightly clothe your ashes,
Despatch me quickly, send me to my death.

CLE. A strange contention! Madam, will you please
A little to retire: 'tis your honour
That I do strive to save, as well as life.
Pray, do not cross my purpose; I shall do
Something that you may thank me for.

SYL. Cleander,
Save but the shepherd, and I'll crown thy merit.

CLE. Will you be pleas'd to enter here?

SYL. But swear
That thou wilt save him.

CLE. I shall do my best.
I dare not swear; for 'tis not in my power
To do what you command.

SYL. But will you swear
To let me know of it before he die?

CLE. I will, by heaven.

SYL. Then I take my leave.
And, Thyrsis, be thou sure, whatever fate
Attends thy life, the same does govern mine:
One kiss I must not be denied.

CLE. Fie, madam!
How low is this in you?

SYL. Then thus we part,
To meet again, I hope.

THYR. Down, stubborn heart,
Wilt thou not break yet? In my death I find
Nothing that's terrible; but this farewell
Presents my soul with all the pains of hell. [_Exeunt._

SCENA IV.

MIRTILLUS, _Chorus of_ SHEPHERDS.

1ST SHEP. I'm sorry that this business went not forward.

2D SHEP. So am not I; we're rid of so much trouble.

1ST SHEP. Yet it is strange the king should send for us,
And when we were come, command us to return.

MIR. No, 'tis not strange; it was his will to do
so.
But if you have an itch of dancing, friends,
Next holiday we'll ha't amongst ourselves,
And every man shall dance with his own sweetheart:
What say you, shepherds? will't not be as well?

1ST SHEP. It will be very fine. But where is Thyrsis?

2D SHEP. Ay, where is he! you went along with him;
Where did you leave him?

MIR. Walking in a garden,
Where when I came to call him, he was gone.

2D SHEP. It seems he cares not for our company.

MIR. Neither for yours nor any man's besides.

1ST SHEP. He is much alter'd since his love was lost;
Methinks he's nothing like the man he was.

MIR. Well then, beware, my friends, how you engage
Yourselves in love: he is a fair example.
And Hylas too--he's drooping for his mistress:
Daphnis is mad, they say; if you've a mind
To die or to run mad, then be in love.

2D SHEP. See where he comes, in what a fume he is!

MIR. I do not like his fumes: pray let's away. [_Exeunt._

SCENA V.

DAPHNIS. _To him_ DORINDA.

DAPH. He will not now be found, the traitor. But,
Where'er he be, nor heaven nor hell shall save him
From my revenge. To take away the life
Of that sweet innocent, without whose sight
He knew I could not live, and to do this
Under the name of friendship! O ye gods!
What age can parallel so great a mischief?
This is his magic glass, which had the virtue
To make her mine, but sent her to the gods.
Bless'd soul, I will revenge thy death, and then
I'll follow thee myself.

DOR. Daphnis, my, love,
Whither so fast?

DAPH. Now, love, deliver me;
And must you come to trouble me? Begone!
I cannot stay to hear thy tedious follies.

DOR. Were all your vows then made but to abuse me?
Are there not pains to punish perjur'd men?
And will they not o'ertake you?

DAPH. 'Las, poor fool!
The gods do laugh at such slight perjuries
As come from lovers.

DOR. Yet it was no conquest
To deceive one that would be credulous:
A simple maid, that lov'd you!

DAPH. Then I see
There is no end of women's reasoning;
Or else this might suffice thee--that I cannot,
No, nor I will not love thee.

DOR. Never?

DAPH. Never.

DOR. Go, cruel man, and if the god of love
Will hear my prayers, thou in thy love shalt thrive,
As I in mine: that, when thou art forlorn,
Thou may'st remember her thou now dost scorn. [_Exeunt._

ACTUS V., SCENA 1.

HYLAS.

It was the cruel practice of my fate
That lifted me unto the height of bliss
To make my fall the greater: for no sooner
Did I enjoy the love of my Nerina,
But in a moment she was taken from me:
A love so dearly bought with sighs and tears,
So many years spent in the gaining her,
And lost in one poor minute! It is better
Always to live a miserable life
Than once to have been happy. She is dead,
And I alive, that cannot live without her.
'Tis fit that I die too; but by what means?
By violence? No, that the gods forbid.
A ling'ring grief, I need not fear, will kill me,
When every day I shall repair, as now,
Unto her tomb, and consecrate my tears
And tearing sighs unto her blessed ghost.
Some pitying god, when I'm dissolv'd away
Upon her ashes, will congeal those tears,
That they may clothe her dust; whilst some kind shepherd,
Passing this way, does write this on her grave--

_See here Nerina, that from Hylas' eyes_
_Fed her fair flame, now in their dew she lies._

Thus I will have it: so the words shall run. [_Exit._

SCENA II.

DAPHNIS, ALCON, NERINA. _To them_ HYLAS,
MONTANUS, CHARINUS, MIRTILLUS.

DAPH. It shall not serve thy turn, malicious shepherd,
Though thou hast ta'en my love away by tricks,
Yet all thy cunning and thy practices
Shall not secure thee from my revenge.

ALC. Are these the thanks I have for that rich jewel
Which I bestow'd on thee, ungrateful man?

DAPH. Yes, for a poison'd glass--a precious jewel!

ALC. I do confess 'twas poison'd.

DAPH. Do you so!
And, to do me a courtesy, you kill'd her.

ALC. Yet hear me, she is not dead; and if she be,
I'll pay my life for hers.

DAPH. Be sure thou shalt.
But can'st thou hope for such a strong illusion
To mock my sense? Did I not see her dead?

ALC. She did appear so: what you thought was death
Is but a lethargy; though I profess not
To draw the moon down from the sphere she is in,
Or make the sun look bloody by my art,
Yet am I well-inform'd in everything
This glass is made of, and I know th' effects
It works, and can discourse 'em.

DAPH. Let me hear them.

ALC. Have patience, and you shall: the glass, you see,
Of this rare mirror which I gave you, is
Made of a Memphian stone, that has the power
To bring a deadly sleep on all the senses:
With it, to make th' effects more strong, is mingled
The quintessence, extracted in a limbec,
Of the torpedo, which has such a quality
That if the fisher touch it with his hook,
A poison straight will creep through all his veins,
Till it benumb his senses. This compounded,
And made into a glassy metal, soon
Reflects upon the eyes of him that looks in't
A sleepy poison, which will stupefy
The vital parts. Yet he that gave it me
Taught me the cordial water which he us'd
To restore spirits and heat unto those vitals;
And I have brought it with me for our purpose.
What have I wrong'd you now? Or is my present
Worthy the thanks you give me?

DAPH. Yet you were
To blame, that you'd not tell me this, before
I gave it her.

ALC. In that I show'd my love;
For I did fear your resolution,
Though I were certain of recovering her.

DAPH. And what must now be done?

ALC. Here, where you found me,
I saw her laid, and buried in the clothes
She wont to wear--her father so would have it.
I waited on the funeral with purpose
To see the stone laid hollow on her grave,
For fear of hurting her.

DAPH. It was well done.

ALC. Here I'll apply my medicine; you shall see
Whether I lie or no.

DAPH. Let's lose no time.
I long to see my love alive again.

ALC. Then help to lift this stone; see where she lies--
The same Nerina?

DAPH. She is dead, I see.

ALC. Love is still full of fears: give me the water.

DAPH. Here: but take heed it do not spoil her face.

ALC. If she be dead, you need not fear the change
Of any colour. What a child is love!

DAPH. The gods, I see, will not let beauty die.
She breathes--she stirs--her eyes begin to open
As after sleep. O miracle!

ALC. How now?
Is she alive? Will you believe your sense?
Now I have put her in your hands, be sure
You do not let her go, and lose no time.
If you give credit to her words, you're lost.
What cannot women's words and flatteries
Effect with simple lovers? Think on that.
Be confident: I'll leave you to your fate.

NER. Ye gods, where am I now? What place is this?
What light is this I see? Are the same things
Seen in this new world as they are in th' other?
Or in the grave do men see waters, trees,
As I do now, and all things, as I liv'd?
But (sure) I live still. If I do, why then
Was I here buried amongst these flowers?
Sure, I am dead; but yet I walk and speak,
And I have heard that those who once are dead
Can never use their voice or action.
But who is this I see here? Daphnis, ha!
Are you dead too, as well as I?

DAPH. No, sweet;
I live to be the servant of Nerina.

NER. Ay, so said Hylas, whilst I liv'd with him.

DAPH. She thinks of Hylas still: what shall I do?

NER. But tell me, Daphnis, in what place am I?

DAPH. In Daphnis' heart you live, and ever did.

NER. And so said Hylas, when we liv'd together.

DAPH. O gods, again! Nerina, think not on him;
You must love me.

NER. Must they in this new world,
As they have chang'd their lives, so change their loves?
I never shall do that.

DAPH. You are deceiv'd:
You are not dead.

NER. Not dead? How came I hither then?

DAPH. By my device to keep me company.

NER. But will you not declare how I came hither?

DAPH. Ask me not that; but go along with me.

NER. Stay, shepherd, whither would you have me go?

DAPH. Where love and silence shall befriend us best.

NER. But tell me, Daphnis, was not I once dead?

DAPH. You were; but I, your servant, chang'd that death
Into a sleep.

NER. I know not what you mean:
Can you change death into a sleep?

DAPH. I can,
And did for love of you.

NER. This is a riddle:
Pray let me know what you do mean by it?

DAPH. Come with me, and you shall.

NER. Nay, tell me first.

DAPH. Then know, fair shepherdess, that when I saw
My love, my services, my gifts, my vows,
Did all return to me without your love,
I had recourse unto this artifice:
A pleasant one of love's invention,
Which you may well remember.

NER. What was that?

DAPH. I did present you with a looking-glass.

NER. You did, but what of that?

DAPH. Nothing at all.
Pray, go this way with me.

NER. But tell me first.

DAPH. That cast you into this deep lethargy:
Such was the magic of it.

NER. To what purpose
Did you do this?

DAPH. To make you mine.

NER. Yours, Daphnis?
How could you hope that without my consent?

DAPH. My services, I thought, would merit it;
Besides, the world, not dreaming but you were
Dead and here buried, we two might live
Together, without being known to any.

NER. But could you practise tricks on those you love?
Now you are paid with your own artifice:
For know, there's none that can dispose of me
But Hylas, who has long preserv'd my heart;
And now my father, whom I did resolve
For ever to obey, has made him mine
By giving his consent, which had not been
But for this trick of yours.

DAPH. Why then it seems
You do not love me?

NER. Love you! Know, I had
Rather embrace my death again than thee.

DAPH. Then 'tis no time to dally: come along,
Or I will force you.

NER. Help me, shepherds, help!

DAPH. Fool! stop your mouth, no human help shall save thee.

_Enter_ HYLAS.

HYL. This is the place where I am come to pay
My tears' first sacrifice upon this tomb
That glories in the spoils of all my wealth.

NER. Hylas, come help me; see'st thou not that Daphnis
Will ravish me?

HYL. Ha! what do I hear?
The voice of my Nerina! so she spake
When she did live; but now, alas! she's dead.
Some devil mocks me with a vision,
And voice unto it.

NER. Will you see me ravish'd
Before your face? O Hylas! O my love!

HYL. Tis she, it is no vision: hold, ravisher,
My love thou canst not take without my life.

_Enter_ MIRTILLUS, MONTANUS, CHARINUS.

MIR. What noise is this?

MON. Some shriek much like a woman's.

NER. O, help my love, Mirtillus!

MIR. Shepherd, hold;
Let go this nymph.

DAPH. Or death or victory
Shall crown my enterprise.

CHAR. Who makes this outcry?

MIR. Sir, I shall cool you, if you be so hot.

CHAR. My daughter here! was she not buried?
Away, foul spirit, away! Let's part these shepherds.

NER. O father, do you think that I am dead?
I am alive, as you are; touch me, see.

CHAR. She is alive indeed! How cam'st thou hither?

NER. Daphnis, whom you would have to be my husband,
Brought me to this supposed death and grave.

CHAR. By what strange means, Nerina?

NER. By the glass
You bid me I should take: he has confess'd
To me that it was poison'd.

CHAR. Can it be?
Can Daphnis do this? He had little reason.

DAPH. She was a fool to cry; I should ha' pleas'd her
Ere this, perhaps.

CHAR. Here, Hylas, take my daughter,
For she is thine: you, Daphnis, I did further
In all I could, till you would find a trick
To put yourself beside her.

NER. I forgive him:
For though it was ill-meant, yet did it sort
By accident unto my good.

MON. But will
Our laws permit a ravisher to live?

HYL. No, no, Montanus: let him live, and envy
Our present happiness.

DAPH. Cover, you gods,
The world in public ruin, or else show me
A way to hide my shame.

MON. What will he do?

MIR. He will go hang himself: what plots he had
To fool himself with!

MON. They that practise tricks,
Find them as jades, that throw 'em first, then kick 'em,
As his has done.

CHAR. Come, shepherds, let's away,
And solemnise these nuptials.

MIR. Stay, Montanus,
Did the king send for you?

MON. He did.

MIR. And how?

MON. The message came from Thyrsis.

MIR. I'll go with you:
'Tis strange the king should send for you: pray heaven
Thyrsis have done no mischief there: he's handsome,
Of a good grace and moving eloquence:
Perhaps some lady may have taken him
Up for herself, and he, I'll lay a wager,
Will be so squeamish that, if Sylvia
Come in his mind, he ne'er will do her reason,
And then her plot will be how to betray him--
Would I were in his place!

MON. I would thou wert,
So he were safe.

MIR. I would comply, ne'er fear it;
They live a heavenly life of love in court
To that which we do here; a mistress there
Will satisfy the longings of her lover,
And never trouble Hymen for the matter:
Then, if they like not, they may look elsewhere.

MON. Thou wilt be punish'd one day for thy mischief.

MIR. The mischief's in my tongue, I ne'er do any.

MON. No, I have heard that Stella was with child
By thee, and thou must father it.

MIR. Who--I?
Take me at that once--fathering of children,
And make me common father of them all!
A child's a pretty thing, and I should joy
To see one of mine own. I'll tell thee truth,
Montanus. By this hand, I never lay
With any woman in my life.

MON. How then?
You have courted all; who is it that Mirtillus
Has not profess'd to love?

MIR. I do confess it,
And that is all I could do; for before
I could get earnest of any one's love,
To whom I made address, even she would say:
You have another mistress, go to her,
I will not be her stale: and so by this means,
Nor this nor that would do me any reason.

MON. You had ill luck, it seems; 'twas not your fault.

MIR. No, for if they would believe me, I did swear
I had no other. Pray, Montanus, tell me----
For you have known the several ways of wooing,
Which is the best and safest?

MON. O Mirtillus,
Grey hairs have put the wilder thoughts of love
Out of my head; cold blood and frozen limbs
Fright all those heats away, in place of which
Discretion and sobriety should come.

MIR. But, I have heard, old men do sometimes
love.

MON. They doat, Mirtillus--give it the right name;
In old men's bloods Cupid does quench his flames.
But as we go, I'll tell thee: not to love
At all is best; but if you needs must love,
Love one, and seek no further. Thou wilt find
Enough of her, if once she prove unkind.

SCENA III.

DAPHNIS, ALCON. _To_ DAPHNIS, DORINDA.

There is no way t' avoid the shame of this.
Each shepherd's boy, that sings unto his flock,
Will make me the scorn'd subject of his song.

ALC. Had you been sudden, as I counsell'd you,
You had not fail'd: but you young men do never
Go through with anything.

DAPH. For heaven's sake,
Call not that wicked deed to my remembrance.
I do repent me that I e'er begun it:
I would not for a world have ended it:
Nerina's chaste and fair, and I a villain.
Leave me, I pray; for something tells me you
Did first advise me to this damned act.

ALC. Nay, if you prize my friendship at this rate,
I'll leave you to your penance. [_Exit._

DAPH. This old man
Is full of malice; nothing troubles him.
The ills that he has done fly from his thoughts,
And he rejoices that he did them quaintly;
I have begun my youth as if I meant
To have my age so punish'd as his is.

_Enter_ DORINDA.