AMINTA: The FAMOUS PASTORAL.
Written in Italian BY Signor Torquato Tasso. And Translated into English Verse BY John Dancer.
Together with divers Ingenious POEMS.
LONDON, Printed for John Starkey, at the Miter, near the Middle Temple-gate in Fleet-street. 1660.
TO My much Honoured, AND Truely Noble Friend, Mr. R. B.
Worthy Sir,
ANcient custom, and the genius of the present times admit a dedication of those works which we esteem [Page]either profitable or pleasant to those we love or honour, this though it pretend little to profit, and as little to pleasure without your pleasing aspect, yet is intended as a demonstration of that honor and respect I bear your worth: which your favours to me have condignly merited.
And to whom indeed should I dedicate both my self and labours? but to you, who have seemed to dedicate your self wholly to my welfare? to whom should I present these effects of my leisure? but to you, by and from whom I received so comfortable an olium? to whom should I address, or whose [Page] protection should I crave for this work of mine? but his under whose protection I effected it?
Yet pretend I not at all by this the least requital of your unlimited favours, which have encompassed me round like an Ocean, but onely manifest to you, what I am almost confident you already believe; that, were my fortunes answerable to my desires, though your retorted Graces might, and would still keep me out of the haven, yet should I use my utmost strength and endeavours to arrive at the Port of a wish'd for gratitude.
In the mean time, please Sir to accept of this poor pledge of my weak, though willing, endeavours; and in thanks for your acceptance, this I really assure you, That though your protection should not render it more acceptable to others, yet will it more and more oblige me, and like a Cypher added to a figure, double, if not treble, the score of your favours.
For the work it self, let me make this Apologie, That you know it to be the first that ever I undertook: so, for those faults which you may very probably find in it, I shal only implore that wonted [Page]Candour and Generosity wherewith you have oft been pleas'd to pass by lesse pardonable errors.
I am sorry your Commands conceale your Name, and must needs herein accuse you of some Injustice, both to my selfe and the World; to my selfe, in not giving my Pen the Honour to Proclaime, not only yours, but the Virtues of your Thrice Noble Family; And to the World, in not permitting them to be Honourers and Admirers of so rare a Pattern of Unparallel'd Freindship.
To conclude. That the God of Heaven would plentifully poure [Page]down the choisest of his blessings upon you and your Worthy Consort, and enable you to the Continuance of your favours towards me; and me to some way to Merit, or meanes to Requite them. Is the earnest Prayer of
Your Devoted Servant John Dancer.
To The READER:
Curteous Reader,
I Here present to thy view, a Work of that Excellent Italian Poet's, Torquato Tasso, Whose sweet and Mellifluous straines, made him not only esteem'd the Apollo of his [Page]Nation, but thought worthy that Honour by Frreign Wits. This is his Aminta; a Piece Valued by themost Refined Judgements above all his other Poems: and so much Valued, That the admired Baptista Guarini confesses himselfe its Imitator, in his Famous, and so much Adored Pastor Fido. If it have suffered by my Translation, I am sorry. I must confesse I envyed, but cannot fancy to have reach'd the Happinesse of Fanshaw's Stile. 'Tis the first Work ever I undertook, so, though there may be errors, condemn me not for the first fault, the [Page]next may be better; hower accept this, as it is, but Friendly, and I have enough.
J. D.
Prologue.
Cupid in Pastoral habit.
HOw could it enter into mortall breast:
That under humane shape, and past'ral vest,
Lay hid a god? nay more, no god o'th woods,
Or one of the inferiour rank of gods,
A god Celestial: who doth justly claim,
Among the greatest the most powerful name:
Who often makes victorious Mars to lay
His conquering sword, and bloody spear away.
Great Neptune who so fils the world with wonder,
Yeilds him his trident; Jove himself his thunder.
Sure with this aspect, in this habit clad,
Venus can ne're discern her smooth-fac'd lad,
Or know him thus transform'd. I'm forc'd to fly,
And hide my self from her, because that I
Scorn for to be her subject, or my darts
Should be her slaves: and only wound those hearts
They're levell'd at by her, and what's that vain,
Ambitious woman dare my shafts restrain?
At Kings and Princes Courts she only will
That 'mongst great Ladies I employ my skill,
And to my lower Ministers conceads
To practice theirs amongst the woods and Meads,
In rustick breasts. I though you may me deem
A boy, am none, and will, as best shall seem
To me, dispose my shafts, since mine of old
Are both th'omnipotent torch, and bow of gold:
Wherefore (to hide my self and to fly from
Her force, not, but her prayrs strong when they come
From an importunate mother) in these plains,
I refuge seek amongst the rurall swains,
And my self shelter in these woods, but she
Ceases nor day nor night to follow me,
Promising those would tell her where I were
Or kisses sweet, or what's than them more dear:
As if that she my giving too could bar
Of kisses sweet, or what's more pleasant far,
To those that hide me from her, this at least;
I know my kisses will be counted best:
(If I that love am of love understand)
So that she oft seeks for me vainly, and
Looses her pains: Since none so foolish are,
As to disclose or tell her where I were.
But least by counter signs she should me know,
My wings, my dart, my quiver, and my bow,
I have laid by, yet come not I disarm'd,
Or weaponlesse, for see how I have charm'd
My torch into this rod; which has the same
Force it had first, and burns though with a flame
Invisible, this likewise is my old
Dart that I us'd, which though its head of gold
Be chang'd, yet this of divine temper'd steel
Who er'e it pierces makes loves flames to feel.
This day I'l make the triall; and my dart
Shall shew its divine power o're the heart.
Lesse bosome of the cruel'st nymph before
This time that ever followed Dians Chore,
And chastest Silvia's plague shall be the same,
(For that's of this hard-hearted Nymph the name,)
As that of fam'd Aminta, who did feel
Long since, the pow'r of my Divinest steel;
When he and she both tender us'd to sport,
In the chast pleasures of bright Cynthia's Court.
But cause the wound shall be more inward, I
Will stay untill some pitie mollifie
That so hard frost which round about her heart
Her virgin-pride hath fix'd, then I'l my dart
Let fly with it's full force; and cause I'l please
My self in doing it, and do't with ease,
I'l mix my self among the shepheards crew
Which passed by just now, who alwaies do
On holydayes make sport within this plain,
And to be one of them my self I'l fain;
Then with the best occasion give the blow,
So slyly, as no mortall eye shal't know.
In a strange manner shall these woods, to day,
Be heard of love to reason, that it may,
Clearly (my sacred Deity is here)
(And not my under Ministers) appear.
These rustick Silvane brests I will endue
With divine sences, teach them how to wooe
In lofty language, that it may be known
That love where e're he is, is alwaies one,
Whether he pleases for to make his nest
Or in a Swains, or in a Hero's breast.
Then if my beauteous mother, who ha's tride
Her utmost art to know where I abide
By these feats know not, she's more blind then I
For blind by wrong, men call my Deity.
TASSO'S AMINTA.
Act. 1.
Scen. I.
Daphne and Silvia.
Daph.
ARt thou resolv'd then Silvia to consume
Thy fairest youth? can't thy heart find a room
For Venus pleasures? wilt not know those joy's
A Mother takes to sport with her sweet boyes?
Shall so much beauty be to woods confin'd?
[Page 6]Change, fondling that thou art, change, change thy mind.
Sil.
Let others follow loves delights for me,
If that in love any delight there be.
This life me pleases best; Nor do I know
Ought I take pleasure in, but in my bow;
This is my chiefest comfort, for to follow
The wild beasts in the chase, hear huntsmen hollow:
Nor do I fear such sports will wanting be.
Da.
More sottish sports, more sottish life, dost see?
This life thee pleases cause thou hast not prov'd
As yet another, cause thou hast not lov'd.
"So in the infant world, and when as yet,
"The simple people knew no better meat,
"Acorns and water, were accounted sweet:
"But when th'earth did abound with corn and wine,
"Acorns and water then were food for swine.
So shouldst thou taste but one poor thousand part
Of the sweet joys of love, thou'dst say, dear heart,
Why didst thou six my pleasure on such toyes
And leave me widow to more reall joyes?
Thou'lt sorrowfull repent the lost time past
And curse it now for running on so fast.
How many a widow night, how many a day
I've ignorantly spent! thou'lt sighing say.
Change then, sond fool, change change thy mind I pray,
Lest when'ts too late thou do repent in vain
Sil.
Daphne, when I repent or o're again
Repeat these words of thine, wch thou dost feign'
Just as thou list, then let the rivers turn
Back to their fountains; let the Ocean burn,
The wolves fly from the tender lamo, the hares
Pursue the greyhounds; then let the fierce bears,
Inhabit waters: and let dolphins range
The fields, whenever I my mind do change.
Daph.
This is meer childishness, Sister, as thou
Art, I was once. (Alas!) although that now
I'me chang'd by age, even just so neat, so fair
My count'nance was, so golden was my hair,
Just such a cherry lip, just such a Rose,
I did in th'middle of my cheek disclose;
'Twas my delight, then, Silvia, (now I find
A foolish one it was) to hunt the Hind,
Follow the footsteps of wild beasts, my net
Spread to untrap the birds, take care to whet
My dart; and if I did but chance to spy
Some youthfull Shepheard cast an am'rous eye,
I looked down with scorn, and with disdain,
Counting what was my grace to be my pain,
And nought was more displeasing unto me
Then see me pleasing unto others be:
But yet at length, time and th'importunate
Pray'rs of my faithful lover, did abate
That Virgin frost, Sister, I was (and blesse
The hour) o'recome at last, I do confesse,
And in one night's black shade I did learn more
Then I had done in all my life before:
[Page 8]So now I did my former folly know,
I quite renounc'd both Cynthia's; life and bow:
And so I hope thou wilt too, and at last
Aminta's sighs may melt thy flinty breast.
How canst thou choose but love him? canst deny
He's handsom? then pray tell the reason, why?
Thinkst thou he loves thee not? or does love any
Better than thee, though he be lov'd by many?
If so, why do's he so thy love pursue?
Think'st him not enough noble? if thou do
Though from this Rivers god the third thou be,
Third from great Pan the shepherds god is he.
Why then despi'st thou him? thinkst thou the lilies
Of the fair cheeks of fairest Amarillis,
Are not as beautiful as thine? yet he
Thou seest despiseth her, and follows thee;
She follows him and seeks his love, and thou,
Though he seeks thine, refusest his; pray now
Imagine, he, thus crost by thy disdain
(God grant th'imagination be but vain)
Should leave thee and take her, I fain would know
Whether it would not grieve thee yea or no?
'Tis better to accept him then, by half,
Then taking her both at thy folly laugh.
Sil.
Let 'minta and his loves disposed be,
As best him pleaseth little't imports me:
Nor who his love has, so I do it misse,
Care I, mine he can't be, since I'me not his:
And though he mine were, his I would not be.
Daph.
From whence proceeds this hatred now from thee?
If I were thee I'd strive to love him rather.
Sil.
It's from his love.
Daph.
Strange child of such a Father,
When was fierce tyger born of gentle lamb?
Or when from Swan's egge a black crow e're came?
Sister thou cheatest or thy self or me.
Sil.
I hate his love, cause he my honesty:
And I should love him while he would not crave
Ought else of me but what my self would have,
Daph.
Thou onely wil'st thy hurt, he only would
Wish that to thee which wish himself he should:
Sil.
Daphne, or talk of somewhat else, or hold
Thy peace I pray.
Daph.
O gods! do but behold
This perverse wench! but prethee Sister do,
But answer this, If that another sue
Should for thy love, would'st thus requite his pain?
Sil.
Who would entrap my chastity, the same
Requite should find from me, what e're he be,
Whom thou stil'st lover, I am enemy.
Daph.
The Ram unto the ewe dost thou esteem
Or to the tender heifer the bull deem,
En'mies to be, or doth the Turtle dove
Reject her mate, because he doth her love:
Seest thou the fragrant season of the year,
How every thing doth sweet and green appear?
This pleasant verdure covering o're the plains,
[Page 10]Invites, alas, not only nymphs and Swains,
But very beasts to love, and dost not see,
How all things in the world inamoured be?
See how those two doves whisper, with what willing,
And joynt consent as 'twere they two are billing!
You Nightingale which hops from grove to grove
Still as she hops, she sings, I love, I love;
The cruell Adder who doth stop his ears.
And having stung, will not be charm'd by tears,
Or cries, is charm'd by sweetest love: 'ith woods
The tigers love, the fishes in the floods
Love too, but thou more cruel then a beast
Denyest sweet love an entrance in thy breast;
But what talk I of beasts; seest thou each tree
In this vast forrest? they inamoured be.
Behold with what a sweet embrace the vine
Does her dear consort lovingly intwine,
The firr doth love the firr, the pine the pine;
You stubborn oak, which scarce the wind can move,
Is mov'd by th'power of divinest love,
Hadst thou a spir't of love, or if of stone,
Were not thy heart, thou'dst hear it sigh and groan,
And utter forth it's am'rous plaints: yet thou
For all this art not mov'd to love, why now
Wilt thou than plants or beasts be more unkind?
Change, fondling that thou art, change, change thy mind:
Sil.
When I of plants the am'rous sighs shal hear
I'l likewise be in love, til then forbear.
Daph.
Well though thou now laugh at, and dost disdain
My faithful counsels; know that to thy pain
Thou wilt repent, thou dost not while thou may
Them follow; for be sure there comes a day,
When what's to thee a pleasure and delight,
Shall be thy greatest grief, thy greatest spight;
And as thou now disdainest others, so,
Thou'lt then despise thy very self; and know
Those so clear springs in which thou oft dost use
Thy most resplendent beauty to peruse,
Thou'lt leave forsaken and neglected now,
Or stand amazed at thy wrinkled brow
But why speak I of this? since 'tis a sure
And common evil we must all endure:
I'l tell thee more, and mark me what I say,
'Tis what the sage Elpino t'other day
Recounted unto Licoris the fair
The gentile Licoris: whose beauty rare,
Has such pow'r o're Elpino, as his art
In singing ought t'have o're her pliant heart;
If there be any debt in love. He told
It before am'rous Thir's and Battus old,
Just at the entrance of Aurora's cave,
Where writ in golden Characters you have;
All you that are profane depart from hence,
And said that it was told to him long since
By the grand Poet, who so high did sing
[Page]The life of many a Heroe, many a King,
Who dying did leave him his pipe, There is
Sayes he, at bottom o'th profound abysse,
A horrid cave, vomiting smoak with fire,
And a most constant stink out of the dire
Fornace of Acheronta, where do lie,
In torments dark, and that eternally
Those women; who perswaded here above,
Neither by pray'rs, nor tears, could be to love:
And 'tis a just, and well deserved law,
Smoak should force tears, which pity could not draw:
Then if thou thus thy cruelty continue,
Look to be consort with that curst retinue.
Sil.
But what said Licoris to this, and how
Answer'd she him;
Daph.
Why see! thou fain wouldst know
Others affairs, but car'st not for thine own:
She answered with her eyes.
Sil.
With eys alone
How could she answer him?
Dap.
Those very ey's
Were, as 'twere, messengers, or rather spies;
Which mix'd with pleasant smiles to him made known,
Licoris and her heart were now his own:
Except he did believe, faith was as rare
In them as beauty; she as false as fair.
Sil.
Why should he so believe?
Daph.
knowst thou what Thir's,
That famous Master both of Love and Verse,
Did write, when burning with the flames of love
[Page 13]He wandring through the forrest, did both move
The nimphs & swains to laughter? but though he
Did things worth laughter, yet his writings be
Not to be jeer'd; this in a tree he writ,
With th'tree it grew, and there I oft read it:
The looking-glasses of false hearts your eyes
Are; and in them all deceit hidden lies,
But what avails't since shun them love denies:
Sil.
I here in pratling cast my time away,
And had forgot this is th'appointed day,
In which we ought to go, as we were wont,
In Eliceto for to raise the Hunt.
Prethee do thou stay for me while i'th nigh
Fountain I cleanse the sweat, and dust which I,
Got yesterday by hunting of a Deer,
Which at the last I kil'd;
Daph.
I'l stay thee here
Perhaps I'l bath me too, but first my gate,
I'l homewards bend for it's not yet so late
As't seems, and thou at home for me mayst stay:
But in the mean time think of that, I pray,
Concerns thee more then hunting, and say I
Bid thee take a fools counsel, so god bu'y.
Act. 1. Scen. 2.
Aminta and Thirsis.
A.
I have with my laments, my sighs, my groans
To pity moved, both the rocks and stones;
But mov'd I have not nor can hope to move
Her I adore, to pity or to love:
Remorseless Nymph, I know not which I best
May stile thee, or a woman; or fierce beast
For thou to be a woman dost deny,
Since more than best'al is thy cruelty.
Thir.
The lambs on tender grasse, wolves on lambs feed,
And both do satisfie their hungry need:
But though love feed on tears, the more it have
Of tears and sighs, it still the more doth crave;
Amin.
Alas! alas! love long since with the food
Of my tears satiate is, now for my blood
[Page 15]It onely thirsts, and therefore to the eyes
Of it and that cru'l nymph I'l mak't a prize:
Thir.
Why talkst thou thus Aminta? if unkind
And cruel she be, thou'lt another find.
Amin.
How can I find another, when that I
Can't find my very self, or pray whereby
Can one lost to himself e're pleasure gain?
Thir.
Do not despair, at length thou mayst obtain
This cruel fair; time teaches men to check,
Lions, and bring fierce tygers to their beck:
Amin.
But whilst that I wait out this long delay,
I shall with grief be quite consum'd away:
Thir.
Short the delay will be, for the disdain
Of woman's kindled soon, soon quench't again:
They're moveable by nature, nor the wind,
Can breath more changes then a womans mind:
Lighter than feathers, and will readier bow,
Then ripened ears before a storm; but thou,
Of thy condition farther let me know,
And the hard fortune of thy love, for though
Thou long since toldst me that thou wast in love,
Yet thou hidst from me, who it was could move
In thee this am'rous fire, although that faith,
And ever constant friendship 'twixt us hath
Oblig'd thee to discover that to me,
Which unto others might concealed be.
Amin.
Thirsis, I am content to tell thee what
The woods and mountains know, but men know not,
And 'tis but just that I being now so nigh,
[Page 16]My death, should leave the reason why I die
To some dear friend, who may when I am gone
Report it, or may grav't in tree or stone,
Near the place where my bloodlesse corps shall lie,
That if that pit'lesse Nymph chance to pass by.
She may stamp on't with her proud foot, and boast,
That her dire cruelty my life me cost;
And that she may rejoyce to see me lie,
There as a trophee of her victory.
Perhaps at last she may (but things above
Desert I hope) both pity then and love
Him dead, who living by her hate was slain,
And with salt tears may wish me back again;
But listen now.
Thir.
Proceed; I wel thee mind,
And am to help thee at thy need inclin'd.
Amin.
I was as yet a child & scarce could crop
Those fruits the willing trees did seem to drop,
From their full loaden branches near the earth,
When full of jollity and harmlesse mirth,
Not knowing love, or caring it to know,
With th' sweetest nymph I did familiar grow,
That in the wind e're spread a golden hair,
It was the rich Cidippe's daughter fair;
Grandchild unto the great Montan, whose flocks
And mighty heards fill both the woods and rocks,
Silvia, the glory of the woods, the fire
Of every heart, of all souls the desire:
[Page 17]With her I kept such faithful company,
That 'twixt two Turtles ne're the like could be;
Nothing to me than Silvia was dearer,
Near were our houses, but our hearts were nearer:
Her age was equal almost with my own,
But 'twixt our thoughts, there was no diff'rence known;
With her I often us'd to spread the snares,
To catch the simple birds, or fearful hares:
With her I us'd to force swift Does to flight,
Equal the prey was, equal the delight;
But whilst we thus made prize of beasts: a prize
My self was made to her all-conqu'ring eyes;
And like a weed which of it self doth grow,
So grew there in my bosom, from I know
Not yet what root, a strange and unknown fire,
Which made me Silvia's presence more desire:
Her eyes were food to me, sweet, but did leave
A bitter; did me of all joyes bereave:
And though my sighs, alas, now were not few,
Yet of those many sighs no cause I knew.
Thus was I, e're that I could it discover,
By her fair ey's forc'd to becoem a lover:
But how I came to know't at last, do thou
Take notice pray.
Thir.
Proceed and tell me how.
Amin.
When Phoebus bright his hottest beams displai'd,
Silvi' and Phillis once chanc't' seek a shade
[Page 18]Under a spreading beech, when, lo, a Bee
Buzzing about Phillis fair cheeks chanc'd see
The lovely red she did in them disclose,
Did make the Bee mistake them for a Rose,
And think to gather honey from that sweet,
She lights: but with too harsh salute did greet
Those rosean cheeks, and Phillis with the pain,
Of the sharp sting most sadly did complain;
When my Dear Silvia told her: Phillis pray
Lament not thus, I soon will take away
Thy pain with an inchantment, which I learn'd
Of the sage Aresia, and I earn'd
It well, for in requital of it I
Gave unto her my horn of Ivory,
VVhich was adorn'd with gold. Thus having said
Her sweeter lips to Phillis cheek she laid:
Just where the Bee had stung her, and she there
Muttred some words which well I could not hear:
But O most wonderful! Phillis had ease
Immediately, and all her pain did cease.
VVhether it was her Magick art or no,
That so soon wrought the cure I don't well know,
But I believe in her sweet mouth was such
Vertue that it did heal all it did touch.
I, that before had so restrain'd the fire
Of love, that nothing else I did desire,
But Silvia's presence, and a paradice
It was to feast my self on her fair ey's,
[Page 19]Or hear the sweet tunes of her warbling voice,
More pleasing far to me than was the noise,
The little pibbles make in murm'ring sloods,
Or than the wind when't sings among the woods
Was now by an ambitious spirit inclin'd,
To a desire which wish'd my lips were join'd
To hers. This amorous desire me taught,
A very subtile craft which at length brought
Me wish'd successe (do but observe how love
Makes mens ingenio's nimbly for to move)
Her wondrous cure on Phillis I did see,
The sight of that taught me to feign a Bee
Had bit my under lip, and though her pray
I durst not for to take my pain away
By her inchantment, yet did my lament
Expresse as 'twere to her my hearts intent;
She harmlesse soul pittying the grief that I
Made shew of, proffered freely to apply
Her cure to my feign'd wound, which added fuel,
To my hearts wound, and made it far more cruel.
Oh Thirsis! never Bee did suck from Rose,
Honey so sweet as I did suck from those
Sweet cherries of her lips, though every kisse,
Me thought did yet want some part of its blisse,
For though I had a ful desire, yet I
Was or restrain'd by fear, or modesty:
But whilst this honey mixt with gall descended
Thus to my heart, I sorry so soon ended
[Page 20]Should be my blisse, feign'd that her charms did ease
Me somewhat, but not quite the pain surcease;
Which made her willingly to take the trouble,
That to me sweet inchantment to redouble;
Thus so increas'd this love within my breast,
That at the last 'twas forced to leave its nest:
Nor would it be kept secret, so one day,
When we were sit as we were wont to play;
Shepherds and Nymphs together on the grasse,
Each lad some secrets whispering to his lasse:
I Silvia told, Silvia, I burn for thee,
And sure shal die unlesse thou helpest me;
Strait at my words there in her face arose
A blush both shame and anger did disclose:
Bow'd to the ground her fair face was, and she
With nought but an harsh silence answer'd me,
And from me turn'd, nor ever would she deign,
Since that to see or hear me speak again,
Though ful three years are past and I have tri'd
All means I could to get her pacifi'd,
Except my death; and could but that appease
Her anger, I methinks could die with ease,
And should account it highly worth my pain,
If I by death her pity could obtain,
And for my faith would deem it recompence,
Should she lament me when I'm gone from hence;
But why should I wish grief unto that breast,
In which I fixed have my joy, my rest?
Thir.
But is it possible if she should hear
Thee say thus much? she longer could forbear,
This true love to requite?
Amin.
That know not I,
But when I'd speak she more my words doth fly,
Than doth an aspe the charmer.
Thir.
Trust to me,
Aminta, and I will procure that she
Shal hearken to thee.
Amin.
Nothing from her can you,
Thirsis, procure, or if procure you do
That I speak to her, yet alas in vain
Will be my speech, and I shall nothing gain:
Thir.
Why dost despair so?
Amin.
Just occasion I
Have to despair, nay rather for to die;
For the wise Mopsu's long since did foreshow
This my hard fortune. Mopsus, who doth know
The vertue of all herbs, and talk of birds.
Thir.
Which Mopsus speakst thou of? of him whose words
Are honi'd, and who has a friendly smile
In's face, but in his heart has nought but guile:
Be of good cheer, Aminta, do not fear,
Those uncouth prophesies he sels so dear
To unadvised persons, I reject
As foolish, for they never have effect;
This know I by experience, and I,
Cause he hath thus foretold, do hope thereby
[Page 22]That in thy love all things wil succeed wel,
Amin.
If by experience thou canst ought me tell
Which comfort may my hope, pray don't it hide,
Thir.
When I came hither first for to abide
Within these woods, I knew and did esteem,
This Mopsus such as thou dost now him deem;
I had by chance occasion for to go
To the great Citie; which I let him know
As hoping his advice, when thus to me
He spake, To the great land thou go'st, said he,
Where the sly Citizens and those o'th Court
Of simple rusticks make a scoffing sport;
Therefore be sure this counsel take of mine,
Come not near those whom thou shalt see to shine
With gold and stones, and other vain devices,
But above all (and slight not my advices)
Beware, least thou be led by thy ill fate,
Or youthful curios'ty to the gate
O'th magazine of pratlers. Then strait I
Demanded of him, what that place might be?
In this place Sorceresses live, said he;
Who by inchantments do all things unvail,
What to thee seems pure gold, to them is pale
And sordid brasse, those arches thou with treasure
Deemst fil'd, are dirt and mire out of measure;
[Page 23]There are the wals built with great art, and do
Speak themselves, and to speakers answer too:
Nor do they answer a dumb voice alone,
As Eccho here, but in words one by one,
Tables and stools and all go tittle tattle,
And should a dumb man enter here he'd prattle.
But ther's worse evil yet, here maist thou be
Chang'd into water, fier, or a tree,
Water of tears, and fire of sighs: content,
With this fond foresight I to th'City went,
Where guided by blest fate I chanc'd to spy
The happy lodge, as I was passing by;
With curious eye expecting something worth
My sight, I chanc'd to hear at length come forth
Out of the gate such pleasant murm'ring noises,
Of nymphs and Sirens the harmonious voices,
As made me stand astonied with delight,
The object pleas'd so both my ears and sight.
Just by the gate as guard to things so good,
A man of a magnan'mous aspect stood;
To whom I do not wel know which I were
Best give that stile of Duke, or Cavalier,
He with benign and grave aspect together,
Invited great and smal to come in thither,
Nor did he me poor simple soul despise;
O gods what did I see there! near mine eyes
Enjoy'd such blessed sights, nymphs ful as fair,
As heavenly goddesses, or far more rare:
Beauties more bright then glittering Phaebus beams,
[Page 24]When, at his rise he guild's the eastern streams;
There sate Apollo, and the Muses nine,
Shining in all their Graces, so Divine;
And, 'mongst the Muses, sate the sage Elpin.
Then was I ravished, with a high desire,
Then, first I flam'd with a Poetick fire;
I sang the lives of Kings, oth 'ancient times,
Scorning a mean verse, or pastorall rimes;
And, though again I to these woods return'd,
By my ill destiny: yet still I burn'd
With some part of that fire: yet did abound,
My Pipe, still, with a more then rurall sound.
But, envious Mopsus, chancing me to spy,
One day cast at me a Malignant eye:
Whereby, I hoarse became, and then long time
I silent was, and sung no more in rime.
Seen by the Wolfe, Pastors supposed me,
Which caus'd my silence: but that wolfe was he;
This I have told thee, that thou maist perceive,
How willing is this Mopso to deceive,
And void of faith, and therefore cause he will
Thee void of hope, I'd have thee hope more still.
Amin.
It pleases me extreamly, for to heare
What thou hast told, then of my life the care
To thee I do commit.
Thir.
Let me alone,
I care will take of it, as of my own;
Ile go see what for thee I can prevaile,
Then in an houre to meet me do not faile.
CHORUS.
MOst blessed age of gold! not cause the floods
Stream'd down pure snow, white milk: nor cause the woods
Distill'd sweet hony, or, the free earth bore
Her fruits untouch't, nor had her bowells tore;
As yet by th' labr'ing ploughman, lambs might erre
Through the thick forrests, without noise or fear;
Nor yet because no winters clouds begun
T 'ecclipse that Radiant Splendor of the Sun,
With which it's warme and pleasant beames did bring
The wish'd-for happ'nesse of a constant spring;
Nor wandring pines did yet, with sails unfold,
For warr or gain compass the late known world.
But, only cause that foolish, and that vain,
Idol of errors, and deceit, that name
So without substance, which the Vulgar, mad,
Did afterwards call Honour, as yet had
No Power to play the Tyrant, or controule
The Peace and Freedome of a joviall soule.
But nymphs and pastors sweetly liv'd, nor knew
Any delight, but what from freedom grew,
Not subject, but to law perform'd with ease
Which nature writ; Is lawful if it please.
No need there was of Cupids torch to move
Or shafts to force the Nymphs and Swains to love,
Their very sports inflam'd them and their smiles
They mix with their sweet words, and then e're while,
Both with their sweeter kisses then the rose,
Of her fair cheeks the Virgin did disclose
Freely to all; which now alas are blown,
To the delight and pleasure but of one;
Then often by the waters of a bright
Spring, lovers us'd to take their full delight.
But thou perversest honour first didst shade
This fountain of delight, and thou first made
This freedom cease, and thou didst first deny
Water to quench his thirst whom love made dry;
Thou taught'st those splendant beauties first to lie,
Vail'd and obscur'd from every am'rous eye;
Their all gold shining hair thou didst restrain,
Into a net, and thou hast put a rein
To all sweet dear lascivious acts, and we
Think now that theft which us'd loves gift to be,
And all these acts of thine turn to our pain:
But thou great Jove who with thy power dost reign,
O're love and nature with a word, can'st tame
The greatest Monarchs and whose very name
Strikes terrour, why alas dost take delight,
To disturb us poor miscreants? kings of might
And power best fit thy thoughts, disturb their peace,
And grant great god that we may live at ease,
And by thy divine providence be hurl'd
Into the golden—oth' ancient world.
We'l hope, since there's no joy, when once one dies
We'l hope; that as we have seen with our eies
The Sun to set, so we may see it rise.
Act. 2.
Scen. 1.
Satyre alone.
SMall is the Bee, much smaller is her sting,
Yet doth its wound both pain & sorrow bring,
But what's more smal then love? since it conceals
It self within such minute parts, and steals
Into the smallest spaces, now it rests
Within the valley of two alp-like breasts:
Now creeps and hides it self within the fair
And curled tresses of a golden hair:
Now under twinkling eye-brows, now i'th' sleek
And rosie dimples of a laughing cheek;
Yet are it's wounds, it's plagues, so sad, so sore,
That nought can be imagin'd torment more.
Ah me! my very bowels and my heart
Boil o're with blood, and like a cruel dart,
So Silvia's fair ey's pierce me, I may say
Cruel Love; but far more cruel Silvia,
Cru'ler then woods, Oh! how wel doth agree
Thy nature with thy name, wel did he see
That it impos'd thee, woods in their green brakes
Do hide fierce lions, tigers, wolves and snakes,
Thou under covert of thy sairest breast,
Hid'st anger, hatred and disdain, which beasts
Are worse by much (alas) than those of prey,
As lions, tygers, wolves or snakes; for they
May be appeased, but ay me! these are
Such, as will not be charm'd by gift or pray'r;
Thou slights the flowr wch from the fields I chose
Because thy cheek flowers much fairer showes.
I from the orchards bring thee apples fair,
Which thou rejectst disdainful, cause there are
In thy fair bosome apples far more rare.
I bring thee sweetest honey, even such
From hives I stole thou, deignst it not to touch
Cause on thy sweet lips sweeter ther's by much;
But if my poverty permits me not
To give unto thee any thing but what
In thee's more sweet and fair, my self then take;
Unjust, why shouldst thou such a gift forsake?
I'm not to be despised, no, for I
Saw my self in the sea when it did lie
Becalm'd & free from waves, this my fierce, stern
And sanguine look, these shoulders large, this arm
So strong and nervous, this rough shaggy breast,
These big-bon'd thighs of mine, and all my rest
So well knit members, are a sign that I
Am strong and lusty, if believ'st not, try;
What wil't do with these tender fooles, whose sleek
Face, scarce allowes them down upon their cheek?
Women, in show, and Workes they be, nor are
Skill'd in ought else, but to dispose each haire,
In it's due order; ther's not one that dare
Follow thee through the woods, to hunt the Bear,
Or, durst encounter wilde Boares for thy sake.
I'me not so ugly, no: nor dost forsake
Me, 'cause I am thus form'd, alas, but why?
Because I'm poor, thou dost thy love deny.
Alas, the Villages do follow now
The custom of the Mighty Cities: how
Well may the golden age this called be,
Since gold alone Commands imperiously?
O! thou, who first didst teach the way, to sell
Divinest love, may torments, worse then hell,
Still waite and tend upon thee; maist thou dy
Unpitied let thy cold ashes ly
Unburied; let Nimphs and Shepherds cease
Passing to say, Soule, do thou rest in Peace;
Let the raine wet thee, move thee may the wind;
Let flocks and strangers too, be so unkind,
As for to trample on thee, thou first sham'd
The Nobility of love, not to be nam'd;
Horrid and Monstrous, 'tis not to be told,
How Love is made the Price of abject Gold.
But, why in vaine lament I? since I see,
Beasts, for their safety, use those Armes, which be,
Allotted them by Nature, Tigers paw's
Use for defence, Lions their teeth and claw's;
The Stag does for her safety use to fly,
A womans weapon is her Beauty. Why?
(Then since all these do use their nat'ral armes
To conquer foes, or save themselves from harms)
Should not I when that nature ha's me made
Apt for to ravish, make use of the trade?
I'l force, I'l ravish what she me denies,
Nor will be moved with her pray'rs nor cries.
Not long ago I told was by a Swain,
That in the fountain lies in yonder plain;
She often baths her self, there I intend
To hide me in the bushes, to the end
That when she comes I may be sure to take
Hold on her; what resistance can she make
'Gainst me, poor tender soule? and for her cries,
I'l neither them nor of her beauty prize
The power. Oh if I can but once entwine,
This hand within her locks, why then she's mine,
Nor shal the gods release her, til that I
For my revenge my armes in blood do dy.
Act. 2. Scen. 2.
Daphne and Thirsis.
Daph.
THirsis, as I thee told, I long since thought,
Amintas did love Silvia, and have sought,
God knows, all way's to further this his love,
And shall the more, since thou art pleas'd to move
Me in it: but I rather had by far
Chuse for to tame a lion, or fierce bear,
Then such a simple girle, who does not know
How piercing be her beauties armes, and though
She others kils, yet is her self stil sound,
And wounding others knows, not how to wound.
Thir.
And where's that child so simple han't a mind,
As soon as out of swathling bands, to find
[Page 33]Arts to seem handsom and to make her please?
And how to kil with pleasing? and with ease
Can tell what armes they be cause death? nay more,
What armes they be which life again restore:
Daph.
Who mistresse is of so much art?
Thir.
As though
Thou knewst not Daphne, 'tis the same doth shew
Flight to the winged birds, and doth infuse
Swimming to fishes, teaches Buls to use
Their hornes, and makes Juno's proud bird to spread
Her Argus-eye-deckt feathers o're his head:
Daph.
I'd very fain know how you cal this same
Mistress of arts?
Thir.
Why Daphne is her name.
Daph.
Out filthy liar that thou art.
Thir.
why fool
Art thou not able then to keep at school
A thousand girls, although no need there is
In this same Art of Love of Mistresses,
For nature is their mistresse, though, 'tis true,
The mother and the nurse bear a share too.
Daph.
Come, thou too knavish art, in sum I'l tel
Thee that I am not yet resolved well,
If Silvia be so simple as she feigns
Her self to be; for down in yonder plains
Where the clear waters of the silent lake
Incircled round a pretty Island make,
I t'other day saw Silvia counsel take,
[Page 34]How she the golden tresses of her head
In pretty curls might o're her forehead spread,
And then how she might fittest o're them place
Her snow-white vail, o're that with better grace
Order some fragrant flowers, with lilies fair
Her white neck she'd adorn; and so compare
Which was the whitest, now a lovely rose,
To her sweet cheeks to see which did disclose
The liveliest hue; then with delight would she
Smile, as 'twere boasting of the victory:
Methought she seem'd to say, I onely do
For your disgrace base flowers carry you,
Not for my ornament, since all may see
How much in beauty you must yeild to me;
But whilst she flatt'red thus her self, her eye
By chance she turn'd, and turning did espie
That I sat laughing in th'adjacent bowers,
At which she blush'd, and strait let fall her flowers;
When laugh the more to see her blush did I,
Which her cheeks tinged in a deeper dy;
But cause that onely on one side her head
Her hair was gathered, on the other spread;
She fearful I should see again, poor soule,
As 'twere from the clear fountain counsel stole,
And though she were undrest, yet pleas'd was she
That, so undrest, she look'd so handsomely:
[Page 35]I saw it and was silent.
Thir.
Thou dost tell
What I before told thee; guest I not well?
Daph.
Well didst thou guesse, but I have been told how
Pastors and nymphs were not so sly as now
In former times, nor young was I so bold:
The world do's grow more wicked, as more old.
Thir.
'Tis true that then Citizens us'd not so
Oft in the Countrey come, nor Rusticks go
Unto the City; now their crafty race
As well as customes do with us take place;
But to our purpose canst not thou procure,
That the hard-hearted Silvia may endure
To hear Amintas speak alone, or't least
In company with thee, which she'l think best.
Daph.
I'l tell thee, Silvia now so coy doth grow
That well how to obtain it I don't know.
Thir.
Amintas too respectfully is nice.
Daph.
True sayst thou Thirsis; there can no worse vice
In lovers be; he that would learn the art
Of divine love must lay respect apart,
Must dare demand, solicite, importune;
And if by these means he can't overcome,
Must ravish too: Thirsis, thou knowst so well,
That I am sure there's none need thee to tell,
The nature of a woman, if she flies
'Tis cause she'd be pursu'd; if she deny's,
[Page 36]Alas 'tis onely cause that she would have
Men to force that which first they did but crave,
She fights to be o'recome: laugh not at me
That I speak thus in considence to thee,
And that I speak in rimes, but thou knowst, Thirsis,
I can for rimes return thee more than verses.
Thir.
Thou hast no reason to suspect that I
Should e'r tell ought against thy modesty.
But I conjure thee, Daphne, by the dear
Remembrance of thy youth that thou wilt here
Lend thy assistance with me for relief
Of poor Amintas, who else dies with grief.
Daph.
How neatly he conjures me, by the joy
Of mine that's past, and by my present'noy?
But what wilt have me do?
Thir.
Judgement and skil
I know thou hast, then onely, that thou will.
Daph.
In sum I'l tell thee then Silvi' and I
This day at Dians well, which is hard by,
Intend to wash, where an inviting shade
For nymphs and shepherds by a beech is made;
And there she'l naked bath her tender wast.
Thir.
What then?
Daph.
What then! if thou hast wit thou maist
Guess at the rest.
Thir.
I guess, but do not know
Whether he'l have the heart to come or no.
Daph.
If come he wo'n't, for ought that I can say,
Stay until she looks after him he may.
Thir.
He so deserves.
Daph.
But, Thirsis, may not we
(At leisure now) talk somewhat too of thee?
Why dost not thou a sweet-heart get? Alas
Thou'rt yet but young! and scarce dost four years passe
Of the fifth lustre (and full well do I
Know when these arms have danc't thee lullaby)
Why wilt neglected live, and void of joy?
Since without love there's no delight (my boy)
Thir.
A man may shun fond love, and yet not fast
From Venus pleasures, he the sweet do's taste
Without the bitter.
Daph.
Most unsavorie 'tis:
The sweet's not seasoned with some bitternesse
Soon satiate.
Thir.
Better once satisfide:
Then before meat and after to abide
Stil hungry.
Daph.
Thirsis, if the meat you have
doth please; the more you tast, the more you crave
Thir.
But who can alwaies present have that food
Which, though he's hungry, to his taste is good.
Daph.
Who seeks no good shal find none.
Thir.
There's no ease
In seeking that, which found, 'tis true doth please;
But if not found when sought torments us more.
Thirsis wil ne'r a lover be, before
That cruel love shal leave it's company
Of sighs and tears, enough already I
Have sigh'd and wept.
Daph.
Enough enjoyed though
Perhaps thou hast not.
Thir.
Nor desire, if so
[Page 38]Dear I must buy it.
Daph.
Well if nothing move
Thee can, at length thou wilt be forc'd to love:
Th.
Love cannot force who's out of his command.
Dap.
But who is't can out of loves empire stand?
Thir.
Who fears his witching charms and flies away.
Daph.
Where wilt thou fly if love his wings display?
Thir.
But love when young ha's his wings short, and so
Can't overtake the man will from him go.
Daph.
The birth of love, there's no man can discry,
And when discri'd, his wings grown great, he'l fly.
Thir.
Some by experience his first birth can tel.
Dap.
Thirsis, since thou pretendst to know so wel
That Art, we'l see if thou canst from him run,
This I protest to thee, I'l not be won
A hand, a foot, or eye-brow for to move,
Either to help or aid thee in thy love.
Thir.
Fy cruel one then couldst thou dead me see?
If thou wilt have me love, why, love thou me.
Daph.
Why dost thou mock me, Thirsis? perhaps thou
Dost not deserve so fine a mistresse; how
Many a colour'd and smooth face be guiles.
Thir.
I do not mock thee; no, but thou meanwhiles
With this pretext my love dost not accept;
This is the common trick: but if reject
[Page 39]My love thou dost, I without love will live.
Daph.
Thirsis, maist thou contently live and thrive,
More then e're yet thou didst, maist live in ease
And leisure, without which love ne're doth please.
Thir.
Daphne, this leisure god hath granted me,
One who a god may here esteemed be;
To whom on verdant plains and cliffy rocks,
From sea to sea we feed our herds and flocks:
Thirsis, said he, let others take a care,
To chase the wolves, and thieves, let others share
Rewards unto the servants; others guard
My wal'd-in sheep; thou (from these labours bar'd,)
Shalt sing: then just it is my pipe should move,
Not in fond fancies of a worldly love;
But that in higher strains it onely hollow
The ancestors of my Jove, or Apollo.
(For which of those to call him well, in troth,
I know not, since he do's resemble both)
Progenitors of greater worth by far,
Then or bright Saturn or the Heavens are;
(Low Muse to such a merit,) but yet he,
Sing I or clear or hoarse, rejects not me;
His praise I dare not chant, nor well can I
Worthily honour him, but silently,
And with due reverence; but his altars ne'r
Without my flowers or sweet perfumes yet were:
And when I do forget him to adore,
Or worship; then let Thirsis be no more:
[Page 40]Let Rivers change their beds, the Soane advance
To wash the Persian banks, the Tigris France.
Daph.
High ho, thou'rt flown too high, prethee descend
Unto our purpose.
Thir.
Daphne, I intend,
That thou shouldst as thou go'st along the way
Endeavour for to soften Silvia;
I'l procure that he come, this task of mine
I doubt will harder be by far than thine,
Then go thy waies:
Daph.
I do, but I did mean
By this talk part of which thou didst not dream;
Thir.
If I can wel discern him by the face,
Aminta 'tis appears in yonder place.
Act. 2. Scen. 3.
Aminta Thirsis.
Amin.
I'Le see what Thirsis may have done for me,
In what to do he promis'd; but if he
Have nothing done, why then, before that I
Will be consum'd to nothing, I will die
Before the rigid Silvia; that abate
My death, may somewhat of her cruell hate,
She (that so pleas'd is with that plague, the Dart
Of her fair ey's ha's gi'n my love-sick heart)
Wil with that wound which my brest shal endure
From mine own hands be doubly pleas'd I'm sure.
Thir.
I new's of comfort bring thee, and content,
Then deare Aminta, cease thus to lament.
Amin.
What say'st thou Thirsis, must I live or die?
Thir.
I bring thee life and safety, for if I
[Page 42]The other had, I'd not it bring, but need
There is of courage, man, and that with speed?
Amin.
What need is there of courage, pray. and where
Must I employ it?
Thir.
If thy Silvia were
Within a wood, encompass'd round with rocks,
Where lions and fierce Tigers by whole flocks
Did range, no way to scape by strength or art,
To go to rescue her, would'st have the heart?
Amin.
More joyfull farr then on a holy day,
A Countrey wench doth run to dance or play.
Thir.
If she 'mongst murd'rers were, I fain would know,
Whether thou dar'st unto her rescue go.
Amin.
I'd go more readier then the Stag does fly
To the long-wish'd-for fountain, when he's dry.
Thir.
But greater proofes more courage do require.
Amin.
I would for Silvia's sake passe through the fire,
Or through the floods, when down the Mountains throw,
With a full torrent, their dissolved snow;
I'd go to hell it selfe, if hell could be,
Where there is one so fair so good as she;
But tell me pray, where is't?
Thir.
Hark then.
Amin.
Go on.
Thir.
Silvia attends thee naked and alone,
At that same fountain call'd Diana's well;
[Page 43]Dar'st thou to go.
Amin.
Alas! what dost thou tell
Me, Thirsis? naked and alone do's she
Stay for me, sayst thou?
Thir.
Unlesse Daphne be
There (who of our side is) alone I say.
Amin.
But naked prethee do's she for me stay?
Thir.
I say she there stayes naked for thee, but-
Amin.
But what? thou kilst me if that word thou put.
Thir.
But I can't tel if thou hadst best to go.
Amin.
Oh hard conclusion! which all the forego-
Ing sweetnesse doth imbitter: with what art
Dost strive to wound my almost bloodlesse heart?
Is't not enough that thus unhappy I
Am, but thou wilt increase my misery?
Thir.
Aminta, if thou wilt my counsel take,
Thou mayst be happy:
Amin.
What, for the gods sake,
Dost thou advise me;
Thir.
What! That thou be bold,
And on what fortune thee presents lay hold.
Amin.
The gods I hope will keep me that I may
Ne're think a thought to displease Silvia:
I ne're displeas'd her yet, but by my love,
Nor was't my fault, her beauties power did move
Me to't: but let me when I cease to strive
Silvia to please, no longer care to live.
[Page 44]Answer me now, If in thy Pow'r it were
To leave her love, wouldst do't to ple asure her
Love lets me not say so, nay 't does deny
That I should think to leave her love, though I
Could do't.
Thir.
Why then though leave her? love thou could'st;
Yet, in despight of her, love her thou would'st.
Amin.
Not in despight, but yet I'd love her still.
Thir.
Why then thou love her would'st against her will.
Amin.
Yes, certainly I should.
Thir.
Then dar'st thou not
Against her will (fool as thou art) take what
At first may hard and heavy seem, once past
Sweeter and sweeter growes unto the last.
Amin.
Thirsis, love for me answers, and my heart
Know's it's own means, but cannot them impart,
Thee constant use ha's skil'd in loves great Art,
But that ha's bound my tongue which bound my heart.
Thir.
Why then we wil not go.
Amin.
Yes go wil I:
But not where thou dost deem.
Thir.
Whither?
Amin.
To die;
To die alas I'l go, if this be all
The favour thou hast done me.
Thir.
Think'st it small?
Think'st Daphne counsel would to go, if find
[Page 45]In part she did not that 'twas Silvia's mind?
And who can tell, it may be Silvia too
Know's it her selfe, but would not have that you
Should know she knows it; now, if thou dost crave
Her full consent, thou do'st desire to have
What would displease her most, and then (foole) where
Is that desire of thine to pleasure her?
Or if she would that thy injoyment were
Thy theft, and not her gift, what need'st thou care?
Amin.
But who assures me such is her desire?
Thir.
Why see? thou do'st that certainty require,
Which does and ought displease her, and which thou
Ought'st not to seek: but pray imagine now
That such were her desire, and thou not go,
Equal the doubt is, the losse equal; so,
I think it better that couragiously
Thou like a man, than like a coward, die
Ar't silent? thou'rt o'recome, confesse I pray
This love Aminta; it occasion may
Thy greater Vict'ry; let's go then.
Amin.
I pray.
Thir.
What, stay! seest not how fast the time does run?
Amin.
Pray let us think first wht is to be done.
Thir.
We by the way wil think the rest, but who
Do's too much think things, seldom wel doth do.
CHORUS.
LOve, who can teach us thy mysterious art?
Who thy divinest fancies can impart?
Where may we learne them? who can them display?
Since (though the mind them comprehend) away?
Arm'd with thy wing'd prowes, they soare above,
Not learned Athens ere the art of love
Could teach, nor its Liceo could it shew,
Phaebus in Helicon thy art ne'r knew;
He could discourse of love, 'tis true, but so,
As if he did thy art but blindly know,
Or were a learner, cold were his desires,
Nor did his voice burn with celestiall fires,
As sits thy power, nor could his thoughts arise
To comprehend thy sacred mysteries;
Thou only, Love, a worthy master art,
In thy sublime, and more then heav'nly art;
To rustick brests thou mak'st known those Divine
And most Celestiall Characters of thine,
Writ by thine own hand in anothers eye,
Thy faithfull servants tongues thou dost untie:
And mak'st them glide in pure and nobler stream's,
Then ever issu'd from Poetick veines;
By thee divinest love there's more exprest
In broken words and speeches, then the best
Of Orators can do, and more doth move
Thy silence, then their Rhetorick, to love:
Heart-conquering Love to others, leave will I
To learn thy art in blind philosophy,
Or from the learned schooles: I only will
In faire ey's study this mysterious skill;
And their high stiles and Poetry will lesse,
Then shall my rough or rustick times, express:
Act. 3
Scen. 1.
Thirsis Chorus of Shepherds.
O Horrid cruelty! unheard! unseen!
Or ever yet remembred to have been
In humane brest; three hundred times, nay four
Ingratefull sex; thou nymph ingrateful more.
Why didst thou, Nature, show thy utmost art,
Thus in adorning womans outward part?
Why did'st her beaut'ous countenance indue
With such a sun-like soul-bewitching hue?
And didst afford to grace her mind within
Nothing but falsenesse, cruelty, and sin.
Negligent Mistresse! But ay me, my dear
Aminta will have slain himself, I fear;
'Tis full three houres that round about the ground,
Where I him left I sought him, but have found
Nor him, nor yet his footsteps, 'tis too plain
I clearly see that he himself hath slain;
But stay, perhaps those shepherds yonder be
May tell me news of him, friends did you see
Aminta or hear of him?
Chor.
Thou dost show
So troubled; that the cause we fain would know
Of this thy grief; from whence proceeds this sweat?
This sorrow; tel us if thou think'st it meet.
Thir.
I fear Aminta's ill, did you him see?
Chor.
No him we have not seen, since that from thee
Long since he parted; but pray tell us plain
What dost thou fear?
Thir.
Lest he himself have slain.
Chor.
That he ha's slain himself! but what could move
Him such an act to do?
Thir.
Hatred and love.
Chor.
Who two such potent enemies don't fear?
What can't they do? but tel us pray more clear.
Thir.
His great love of a nymph, and her no smal
Hatred of him.
Chor.
Nay prethee tell us all;
This is a place of passage, and whilst you
Relate it, news may brought be; perhaps too
Himself may come mean-while.
Thir.
I willingly
Recount it wil, that the just infamy
Of such a strange ingratitude may rest
[Page 50]Upon that cruel and remorseless breast;
Aminta told was (I alas was he
That told it him and he was led by me,
Now I repent me) that his Silvia dear
This day with Daphne in a fountain clear
Would bath her naked limbs, he thither went
Not mov'd by his desire, but to content
My importunities: oft back have gone
He would; but that I still did thrust him on;
Now when we come were to the fountain nigh;
We thought we heard a womans woefull cry,
And not far off we Daphne saw, her ey's
Swollen with tears, when she saw us, her cries
Did pierce the heav'ns, run and make haste, said she,
Silvia is forc'd. Amintas presently,
Not staying to hear more, flew away so
Swift as I never yet saw swifter Do:
I followed him; when, lo, we straightway see
The beauteous Silvia ti'd unto a tree;
The rope to tie her was her brightest hair,
Which in a thousand knots intangled were
About the plant; that girdle us'd to be
The former warder of her chastitie,
Was us'd now to her rape, and serv'd to bind
[Page 51]Unto the tree her snow-white hands behind.
The very plant it self did condescend
To this foule act, and seem'd as 'twere to lend
It's ful assistance to the rape; for round
About her legs two pliant twigs were bound;
Just before her a cruel Satyre stood,
With looks denoting villany and blood,
Who finisht had to bind her; she poor heart
Did strive with all her force and all her art,
But what (alas!) could all her force or skil
Prevail 'gainst him who had such strength at will;
Aminta with his sharp wel-brandish'd dart
Aim'd at, but mist, the cursed Satyres heart;
I gather'd up what stones I could, but he
Seeing us two, thought it was best to flee:
We him pursu'd, Aminta as his flight
Gave leave, turn'd back his ey's to have the sight
Of her fair members, which more soft by far
Seem'd than Swans down, and whiter much than are
The snow-deck'd Alpes, but when we had in vain
Pursu'd the rogue, he turning back again
Accosts her thus, Pardon, O Silvia fair,
These hands of mine, which with such boldness dare
Approach thy members, for they're forc'd to loose
[Page 52]These knots which ministred to thy abuse;
Then since that fortune has been pleas'd to send
Them such a blisse, let it not thee offend.
Chor.
Words that would mollifie a heart of stone!
What answer did she give him then?
Thir.
Why none:
But looking down disdainfully, she tride,
All that she could, her fairest breasts to hide;
He from the tree begins her hair to loose;
And thus he seem'd to say, Durst thou abuse
These golden curls, base plant? which do to thee
So great an honour, ah, unworthy be
Thy branches of such knots; what vantage pray
Can we poor Lovers boast of? Since trees may
Enjoy those comforts which we want, entwine
By force those locks which blesse these hands of mine
By their bare touch; this done he from behind
Unties the knot, and does her hands unbind;
In manner so as if he seem'd to fear
Their touch, and yet to touch could not forbear;
Then stoops that he might loose her feet, but she
Finding her hands were now at libertie,
Looks on him scornfully, says touch not, I
[Page 53]Am Dians nymph. I can my feet untie
Chor.
Can so much pride reign in so fair a heart?
O for so good an act ingrateful part!,
Thir.
He did respectfully himself retire
Not looking on her, though he did desire,
Deny'd himself that pleasure, which on trial
He fear'd would give her trouble of denial;
I heard and saw all this, and hid did lie,
And though about to check her cruelty;
Yet I with-held: but heare the most unkind
Part of all yet; she did at length unbind
Her self, scarce loose, nor bidding him adieu,
Faster then fleetest Stag away she flew;
And yet to fear I'm sure she cause had none,
For his respect to her was ful wel known.
Chor.
Why did she fly then?
Thir.
She would of her rape
The rescue attribute to her escape,
Not to his modest love.
Chor.
Ingrateful too
In this! but what said he? what did he do?
Thir.
I know not, I vext at her rigor, ran
To overtake and hold her but in vain;
For soon I lost her track, then turning, where
I left Aminta, could not find him there;
My heart presages ill, for this I'm sure
He'd rather die than this sad chance endure:
Cho.
The custom 'tis (we know) of those that are
In love, to threaten death, but very rare
Are those effect it.
Thir.
But pray god that he
One of those rare ones be not:
Cho.
He won't be
So foolish, fear not.
Thir.
I'l go to the cave
Of sage Elpino, where I sure shal have
News of him if he lives, for that's his hant;
There on his oaten pipe he us'd to chant
Sweet songs, and there lament him of his love,
And make the very rocks and mountains move;
The Rivers stop their course to hear his layes,
The trees incline, and wild beasts leave their preys.
Act. 3. Scen. 2.
Amintas Daphne Nerina.
Amin.
PItilesse pity Daphne sure was thine,
When thou with-heldst this hand, this dart of mine;
That so my death being delay'd by fate
Might be more bitter by how much more late;
And why dost trace me thus? or thinkst to force
Hope into me by this thy vain discourse:
What dost thou fear? that I my self should slay,
Thou fear'st my good; then prethee goe away;
Daph.
Despair not thus Aminta, for if I
[Page 56]Know Silvia wel, 'twas shame that made her fly,
Not cruelty.
Amin.
Alas! there is for me
No way but to despair, since hope wil be
As't ha's been yet my ruine, stil I find
It strives as 'twere to blossom in my mind;
And whispers to me live, and can ought be
Worse then a life, to such a wretch as me?
Daph.
Live wretch, live stil I say, and let this be
Support unto thee in thy misery;
That if thy hope in life do but maintain thee,
At length thar naked fair one it will gain thee.
Amin.
Both love and fortune, though that at the brink
Of wretchednesse I was, yet did not think
Me yet forlorn enough, until that I
Had fully seen what fully both denie.
Ner.
Must I then alwaies have the luck to be
The messenger of such sad news? ay me!
Wretched Mantano! what sad heart wil thine
Be when thou com'st to hear this newes of mine?
O sad and des'late father thou, nay rather,
By losse of thy dear Silvia, no more Father!
Daph.
I a sad voice do hear.
Amin.
And I hear sound
The name of Silvia, which my heart do's wound,
[Page 57]Who is it names her?
Daph.
it seemes at first sight
To be Nerina, Cynthia's cheife delight,
Who ha's so sweet comportment, so fair face,
Such charming ey's, such a bewitching Grace.
Ner.
And yet alas, I'm forc'd to let him know
Of this most fatal chance of thine, that so
He may seek those unhappy bones, if no
More rests of thee; oh! my deare Silvia, oh!
Amin.
Ay me, what say's she!
Ner.
Daphne,
Daph.
what, and why
Do'st to thy self name Silvia, and then cry.
Ner.
Alas! with reason I lament her sad
And cruel fate;
Amin.
What fate can be so bad
To make thee thus lament? Ay me, I feele
My heart a dying, as though pierc'd with steele,
Is she alive?
Daph.
Prethee to us relate
What thus thou mutter'st of her desp'rate fate.
Ner.
Ye Gods! why am I messenger? yet I
Must tel't: did she, you know the reason why
Come e'n now naked to my Lodg, and there
Re-cloath'd her selfe again; she by her pray'r
Prevail'd with me, that I would with her go
In Eliceto for to hunt a Do.
I pleas'd her, and we went when, neer the ground,
[Page 58]Gather'd together many Nymphs we found;
Scarce had we spoke to them, when lo we see
A mighty wolfe start from behind a tree,
Great out of measure was he, and with blood
His nose was di'd, he fiercely looking stood;
Silvia streight to her bow an arrow fits,
And she nere us'd to misse; so now she hits
Him just upon the head, he fly's again
Into the wood, she followes him amaine:
Amin.
O sad beginning, which do's pierce my heart!
What end wilt have?
Ner.
I with another dart
Follow'd her track, but at great distance, since
She was i'th wood ere I could move me thence,
Yet I her footsteps made a shift to trace,
Until I came to the most desert place
Of all the wood, where, lo, by chance I found
My dearest Silvia's dart upon the ground,
And not farr off from it I did espy
That snow-white vaile, which I my selfe did ty
Upon her head, which as you see is di'd
With crimson gore, and looking round I spi'd
Seven fierce wolves, which seem'd to lick the blood
Of a nak'd body, about which they stood,
Such was my hap, and so intent they were
Upon their prey, they saw not I was there;
So I return'd, and this is the full tale
I tell of Silvia can, see here the vaile.
Amin.
Th'ast told too much, this vaile, and this blood be
Sure tokens of her death.
Daf.
Ah poore wretch! he
Is dead with greife too.
Ner.
No, he breathes, revives,
'Tis but a sudden fainting, see he lives.
Amin.
Greife, why? (alas!) do'st thou torment me so,
And do'st not kill outright? if thou too slow
Beest, or wouldst have my hand the instrument
To do't, to this I'me very well content;
And it shal execute that death which thou
Refusest, or to do, or know'st not how;
Then since the certainty of this we know,
And nothing wants now to augment my woe;
Why should I longer stay? oh Daphne! why
Did'st not permit me, when I would, to die?
To this sad end reserv'dst thou me? to this!
Sure sweet my death had been, nay more a blisse,
And greatest happinesse, had but that dart,
Which cruel thou withheldest, pierc'd my heart.
But heav'ns deni'd it, and did feare least that
I by my sudden death forerun should, what
They had ordain'd me, now my utmost ill
They executed have, permit they will
To make the full summe of their cruelty:
[Page 60]And thou permi too must) that I may dy.
Daph.
Restrain this frantick humour of thy youth,
Until we do heare further of the truth.
Amin.
Why do'st thou strive to keep me off with such
Delay's? I've staid too long, and heard too much.
Ner.
I would I had been dumb.
Amin.
Nymph, pray bestow
On me that blood-bespotted Vail; that so
Small, but whole relique of my Silvia;
That since no more there rests of her, it may
Witnesse my death, and if there ought can be
To do't may serve t' augment my misery;
Though, I confess, 'tis not so small that I
Need to increase it, to perswade me dy.
Ner.
Had I best giv't him, or deny't him? I
Think for th' occasion I were best deny.
Amin.
What cruell one! so small a gift to me,
Who am resolv'd nere to ask more of thee?
In this too wretched fate, I yeeld with you,
Then let the Vaile remain, and so adieu;
I go to turn no more.
Daph.
Aminta, stay,
Gods! with what fury do's he fly away?
Ner.
He flies so fast, that it will be in vaine
To follow him, I down in yonder plaine
[Page 61]Wil seek Montano, but I do not know
If I were best to tell the newes or no.
CHORUS.
THere is no cause, which death may move
To bind him, ha's a noble heart;
His faith's enough first, then his love,
Nor is so hard of love the art.
By him alone that loves wel, love is sought,
And like a Merchandise by love is bought;
And seeking love we often find
A Glory, which we leave behind.
Act. 4.
Scen: 1.
Daphne, Silvia and Chore of Shepherds.
Daph.
THat wind that brought the sad new's of thy death,
Brought with it likewise in the selfe same breath
Thy present and thy future ill, but thou
(Thanks be to God) art live and well, when now
I deem'd thee dead; Nerina with such greife
It told: had she been dumb, or others deaf.
Sil.
The danger sure was great, and she indeed
Had just occasion to suspect me dead.
Daph.
A just occasion for to tell it, though,
She had not, but let me thy danger know,
And how thou scap'dst.
Sil.
I'l tell thee, I, in chase
[Page 62]Of a fierce wolf, unto the thickest place
Came of the wood, so that I quite the track
Did of his footsteps loose, but turning back
Again, I spi'd him; by my shaft I knew
That 'twas the same wolf first before me flew.
He with some others feeding was amain,
On a dead carkase they had newly slain;
Of what I could not well discern, but he
Leaving his prey came running after me.
I stood him; with intent to make him feel,
My dart than arrow was the sharper steel;
And thou knowst well I'm mistresse of the art,
Of brandishing and lancing wel a dart;
I seldom use to misse, and so, when nigh
Enough I thought him, I my dart let fly,
But was it fault of fortune, or of me,
I mist the wolf, and stuck it in a tree:
The Wolf more fiercely at me runs, and I,
Seeing 'twas vain to use my bow, did fly:
He follows me, (now hear a chance,) my vail
Hap'd to untie, and with the murm'ring gale
Came through the woods, blew up and down, at last
A bot a bough tangled it self so fast,
That though my force redoubled was, my strength
Could not prevail a rescue, but at length,
Seeing no way to'scape, I thought it best
Quite to untie it, and there [...]et it rest;
Which done, I ran again with all my might,
[Page 64]Feare adding thousand wings unto my flight,
That he nere joyn'd me, and I came out safe
Unto my lodge, where first of all I have
Encountred thee, and wondred much to see
Thee stand amaz'd, and wondring so at me.
Daph.
Thou liv'st, alas! but others not.
Sil.
doth't greive
Thee Daphne then that I am still alive?
Hat'st thou me so?
Daph.
no Silvia, I'm full glad
Thou liv'st, anothers death 'tis makes me sad.
Sil.
Whose death?
Daph.
Aminta's.
Sil.
Is he dead, and how?
Daph.
Well how I cannot tell, nor do I know
If it be certain.
Sil.
Strange! but can'st divine
What was the occasion of his death?
Daph.
why? thine.
Sil.
I understand thee not.
Daph.
The tidings sad
Brought of thy wretched death, such power had
O're him, poore foul, and o're his wearied life,
That I beleive 'thas brought him cord or knife.
Sil.
I hope that vaine will this suspect of thine
Be of his death, as vain was that of mine;
For when men come to the effect, they strive
[Page 49](Let them boast what they wil before) to live.
Daph.
Silvia, thou know'st not what the fire of love
Can in a heart that's not of marble move,
But thine's more hard than stone, else thou believe
Would'st him, for whom thou yet seem'st not to grieve;
And would'st have lov'd him who far more did prize
Thy love, than the dear apples of her ey's.
I wel believ'd him, knew, and saw't, when he
Having unloos'd the (Tigresse) from the tree,
An act that would have forc'd thee him to love,
Had'st had a heart; but what is't thee can move?
I say I saw him there reverse his dart
And with his ful force strive to pierce his heart;
Nor did repent him, though at first he di'd
It in his crimson gore; but once more tri'd
To make it enter farther, and he sure
Had pierc'd his heart, but I could not endure
To see't, so staid him; yet believe the rage
Of that smal wound did not at all asswage
His desp'rate constancy, but onely made
A freer passage for his thirsty blade.
Sil.
What dost thou tell?
Daph.
I saw him too when he
First understood news of the death of thee
To swound for grief; reviv'd, he fled away
In fury with intent himself to slay:
[Page 66]And he'l have done it surely.
Sil.
Think'st thou so.
Daph.
I cannot doubt it.
Sil.
Oh my Daphne, oh
Why followedst not to hinder him, with me
Come now and seek to find him; for if he,
Thinking me dead, resolv'd himself to kill,
Sure now I live, remain in life he will.
Daph.
I follow'd him, and sought him, but in vain,
For when he once got out of sight, again
I could not find him, nor his footsteps; thou
Then whither, prethee, wilt go seek him now?
Sil.
Alas let's go however, for if we
Don't stay him, he will his own murd'rer be.
Daph.
Perhaps it grieves thee then that any one
Should boast of killing him, but thee alone;
Or cruel one dost think it scorn, his heart
Should wounded be by any, but thy dart?
Content thy self, how e're he dies, yet he
Dies for thy sake, thou wilt his murd'rer be.
Sil.
Ay me! thy comfort's harsh, but now I find
That grief of heart, which overswayes my mind;
For his sad chance imbittered is the more,
By how much I was rigorous before,
And the remembrance of my cruelty
Torments me now, I call'd it honesty,
And so it was, but too severe by far,
Too cruel since it did all pity bar;
[Page 67]Now I repent me.
Daph.
Strange! what do I hear?
Pitiful thou? what can thy flint heart bear
The least impress'on? weep'st thou? what can move
These tears? are they of pity or of love?
Sil.
They tears of love not, but of pity, are.
Daph.
Pity to love is alwaies messenger,
As lightning to the thunder.
Chor.
Oft when rest
He hidden seeks within a virgins breast,
Who had with too strict honesty before,
Against his sly charms shut and barr'd the door:
He of mild pitie his fond servant takes
The shape and habit, and so entrance makes.
Daph.
Silvia, these tears of love be, 'tis too plain
Art silent? dost thou love? thou lov'st in vain:
O divine force of love! how justly thou
Chastisest those who don't thy pow'r avow!
Wretched Aminta! like the Bee who leaves
Sorrow to him he stings, but yet bereaves
Himself of life: so now thou victor art,
And dying wounded hast that stony heart
Which living thou ne'r couldst, and if thou be
A wandring spir't, as I believe, then see
Her tears, and though to thee all joy be past,
Rejoyce that thou hast overcome at last.
Lover in life, belov'd in death; if thy
[Page 52]Eate 'twere not to be lov'd til thou didst die,
Or if this cruel one at no lesse price
Would sell her love, then to him for it dies;
See thou hast given her the price she sought,
And with thy early death, her love hast bought.
Chor.
Dear price to him that gave it, but more griev-
Ous far (alas) to her did it receive.
Sil.
Could I but with my love his life regain,
Or with my life call him from death again!
Daph.
Ah pitiful too late! and too late wise,
Pity assists not where fate help denies.
Act. 4. Scen. 2.
Ergasto Chore of Shepherds Silvia Daphne.
Erg.
SO full my breast of pity is, and so
Clogd up with horror, that I do not know
Whither to turn me, nothing comes to sight,
Nothing I hear, which doth not me affright.
Chor.
What newes brings our Ergasto? sure 'tis bad,
His countenance and accent both are sad.
Erg.
I bring the sad news of Aminta's death:
Sil.
Ay me!
Erg.
The noblest shepherd that did breath
Within these woods; whose sweet comportments were
Unto the nymphs, and muses both, so dear.
Chor.
And is he dead? and how? relate that we
May his untimely end lament with thee.
Sil.
I dare not listen to this sad discourse,
[Page 70]Nor yet go near to hear it, though of force
Hear it I must, wicked relentlesse heart
Of mine, what fear'st thou? go receive that dart
Which he brings in his tongue; that so thereby
May be made known thy heartlesse cruelty.
Shepherd I come a partner here to be
Of that grief, which thou promist's others, me
Perhaps it more concerns, and as a due
Debt of my rigor I receiv't from you.
Erg.
Nymph, I believe thee well; for at his death
He with thy name gave up his latest breath.
Daph.
Now begin this sad story.
Erg.
I surround
The Mount did with some nets, spread on the ground,
When, lo, Amintas passed by, and he
Was too much chang'd from what he us'd to be,
Too troubled, and too sad; I ran and staid
Him, though with much ado; he to me said:
Ergasto I'd intreat a courtesie
Of thee, 'tis this, to come along with me,
And be a witnesse of what I shal do,
But this I shal requier first of you,
That by streight oath your firmest faith you bind,
[Page 71]Neither to hinder nor oppose my mind;
I (for who could have thought so strange a case,
Or such mad fury?) let his will take place
And did conjure, Pan, Pales, Priapus,
And all those gods are honour'd most by us;
He at my oaths went forward, and me led
There where the cliffy rock hangs o're it's head:
Road it was none, for there no path at all,
But from the mount, a precipice doth fall
Into th'adjacent valley; here a stop
We made, when I with looking from the top,
Such was the height, so level to the ground,
That with a giddinesse my head turn'd round;
I started back, he smil'd to see me start,
Which too much did assure my fearlesse heart:
Then to me said, Ergasto, I'd have thee
Recount to Nymphs and Pastors what thou'lt see,
So looking down began—
Had I here ready to my will,
The teeth of rav'nous wolves to spill
My blood, I'd onely choose that death,
By which she di'd who was my breath:
They tear this body should of mine,
As they did that fair corps of thine;
But since that heav'n is so unjust
As to deny, (though die I must)
[Page 56] My death desired, nor will send
Fierce beasts to help me to my end;
I'l find a death though not the due,
Shall end my life as soon as you.
Silvia I come, I come to thee,
Disdain not then my company;
Contentedly I shall endure
The sharpest death, were I but sure
'T would not again begin our strife,
Thy anger ceas'd were with thy life.
Silvia
I come, this said: he in a trice
Threw himself down; I frozen stood like Ice.
Daph.
Wretched Aminta!
Sil.
Ay poor me!
Chor.
But why
Some way to hinder him didst thou not try?
Perhaps thy promis'd oath did thee restrain.
Erg.
No; for, rejecting oaths in that case vain,
When I discern'd his purpose, though too late,
I ran to stay him; such was his hard fate,
I onely caught this silken girdle here,
But he went with such force it could not bear
His body's weight, and so it did remain
Thus broken in my hands.
Chor.
But what became
Of the unhappy corps?
Erg.
That know not I,
I had not heart enough to see it lie:
[Page 57](Pity and horror having fill'd the place)
So shattred into peeces.
Chor.
O strange case!
Sil.
If this newes kil's not me, my heart's of stone,
Or rather I believe that I have none;
Shall the false rumour of my death have such
Power o're his life, whom I did hate so much?
And shall not his true death, who life did leave
For love of me, me of my life bereave?
It shall: and if that griefe can't do't, a knife,
Or else this girdle shall command my life;
This girdle left behind, alone to be
The just revenger of my cruelty;
Unhappy girdle of a Master farr
Unhappier, disdaine not that you are
Lodg'd in this justly to thee hatefull brest,
Since there thou as an instrument do'st rest
Of that revenge, which is in justice due
To your so haplesse Master, and to you;
For since twas by my cruelty deni'd
Aminta should my consort here abide,
'Tis just I should by work of thine be made
His consort, in the sweet Elizian shade.
Chor.
Comfort thy selfe poore wretch, thou fault hast none
In this, but fault of fortune 'tis alone.
Sil.
Shepherds, weep not for me, your tears you loose,
[Page 74]Those pity don't deserve, who none did use,
Or if ye weep, his losse ye weep in vain,
Since that deserves a far more dolefull streine;
And thou too, Daphne, dry those teares of thine,
If from no other cause they come than mine;
This s'd intreat thee do, not for my sake,
But for his worthy was, the pains to take,
To go with me to see those wretched bones,
I feare me, crush'd among the rocks and stones,
And helpe to bury them, and when that I
Have perform'd this, what should I do but dy?
This office I'l repay him, since no more,
I can, for that great love which he me bore;
And though these hands of mine contaminate
Will this good work: yet since pernicious fate
Permits me only to do this; I know
It will be deare to him, he lov'd me so.
Daph.
Who would their help to such a work deny?
But afterwards thou must not think to dy.
Sil.
Till now I liv'd, have to my selfe alone,
And to my cruelty, what rests, to none
I'l live but to Aminta: and if fade,
My hopes do there, I'l live to his cold shade,
So long I'l live, till in one point can I
Finish his saddest obsequies, and dy;
[Page 75]Shepherd direct me, that I may not faile
To find the way which leads unto the vale;
Where ends that cursed precipice.
Erg.
You are
Just in the way, nor is it very far.
Daph.
Come, I'l go with thee, thou my foot-steps trace,
And I'l thee lead directly to the place.
Sil.
Then Shepherds, Nimphs, Meadows, and Plaines adieu;
Woods, Rivers, Fountains, all farewell to you.
Erg.
Alas! she takes her leave with sighs so sore,
As if she were resolv'd to turn no more.
CHORUS.
WHat death must yeeld, that love retains,
Thou peace's friend, he wars unkind,
Ever his triumphs, vaunts and reignes;
And whil'st thoudo'st twofair souls bind;
Thou rendr'st earth so like the heavenly sphear,
That thou thy selfe deign'st to inhabit here;
There is no anger there above
And thou hast mortal brests inclin'd
By thy divinest art of love;
To put all hatred out of mind;
And with a pow'r exceeding earthly Kings
Thou here below dost govern mortall things.
Act. 5.
Scen. 1.
Elpine Chorus of Shepherds.
Elp.
IN truth, the divine law by which love sway's
His sacred Empire is not hard nor stray's
In oblique paths, sage providence the guide
Is of his workes, and all his actions glide
In deepest mysteries, see by what art
By what strange uncouth meanes he leads a heart
To happinesse! and when man thinks that he
Is now arriv'd at th' depth of misery
And wretchednesse, why then the winged boy
Transports him to the paradise of joy:
Behold Aminta, by his fall ascends
To his long wish'd-for, and desired ends;
Happy Aminta, happy so much more,
By how much more mis'rable thou before;
[Page 78]By thy example why should I despaire,
But rather hope that cruell one, though faire,
Who under smiles of pity doth conceale
Her mortall rigor, now at length may heale
My wounded heart, and may true pity have
To cure that wound, her feigned pity gave.
Chor.
see how the sage Elpino yonder walkes,
And to himselfe of poor Aminta talkes,
As though he living were; he fortunate
And happy calls him, O the sad estate
Of lovers! is his judgement so misled,
To call those happy, who find pity dead?
Is this the paradise of joy? is this
His wish'd contentment, his desired blisse?
Is this the great reward, the greatest ease
Love gives his servants? can this so much please?
Can this suffice? Elpino, is so bad,
Thy luck, that thou stil'st sprtunate the sad
Death of Aminta? such an end do'st crave?
Elp.
No Shepherds, no; but let your sorrows have
An end; false the report is, he was dead.
Chor.
O! how much comfort hath this good new's bred?
Did he not then himselfe precipitate?
Elp.
He did, but his more than thrice blessed fate
Under deaths dolefull image did him give
[Page 79]Both life and joy: shepherds, he still doth live,
And lives content; for now his head doth rest
On his deare Nymphs so much desired brest;
She whom before, nor tears, nor sighs could move
To pity him, is now as full of love,
Is now as mercifull; and from his ey's
With her own mouth his teares of joy she dry's.
I go to seek her father, old Montane,
And to conduct him unto yonder plaine
Where they two be, for nothing to the sill
Of their content there wants, but his good will.
Chor.
Equal their birth is, equal are their years
Their wills agree, and good Montane, who bears
Desiers to have nephews, and to fence,
His drooping age with such a sweet defence,
Will make his will be theirs; but dear Elpine
Relate to us what fate, what god divine
Could of our poor Aminta such care have
As might in that same desp'rate fall him save.
Elp.
I am content to tell it, and no man
I'm sure can tell it better then I can.
Just at the entrance of my cave stood I,
Which you know well at the hils foot doth lie;
I reasoning was of her, who in a net
First Thirsis caught, and after me, and yet
[Page 64]I did my thraldom far prefer above
His life of freedom, or his flight from love,
When a strange voice our ears and ey's did call
Up to the top, from whence to see one fall,
And see him on a bush of briers light,
Which stood in the mid-way, was all one sight;
Nature had planted on the mountain's side
A sett of thornes, so thick, that they seem'd ti'd,
Or wove together, here at first he fell,
Which, though 'twas like a net, yet could not well
His bodi's weight susteine, but let him go
Quite through, that at our feet he fell; yet so
Much of the force and shock it took away,
That 'twas not mortall, only there he lay
Astonished, and void of sence. Amaz'd
We at the sad chance stood, but when we gaz'd
More neerly on, and knew him, then our trouble,
Our sorrow, and our anguish did redouble;
But to our griefe it was some small repreive
That he was not quite dead, perhaps might live;
Then Thirsis t' me the secrets did discover
[Page 81]Of this disconsolate and desp'rate lover
We knowing 'twas in vain him to lament
Bethought a remedy; and while we sent
For learned Esculapius, whom Apollo
Taught, Physicks art when he him us'd to follow:
At the same time he did on me bestow
The skil to tune a harp, and bend a bow.
Silvia and Daphne thither seeking came
That body which they did believe was slain;
When Silvia saw Aminta's cheeks once fair
Now void of life, now grown so pallid were,
So wan that the bleak violet display's
Not half that palenesse scorch'd by Phoebus rayes:
She stupifi'd neer void of sense doth rest
Lamenting, crying, beating her fair breast
She on him falls, to take her latest kisse,
And joyn'd his face to hers, her mouth to his.
Chor.
Could she that was so coy, now not restrain
Her passion but extend the bounds of shame.
Elp.
Weak love is held by shame, but love grows bold
As strong, what is it then can it with-hold:
She as though in her ey's she did contain
Fountains of tears, did with such plenty rain
Them on his cheeks, and they such vertue had,
That it reviv'd again the breathlesse lad;
His ey's he weakly opens, and he sends
[Page 82]From his afflicted soule a sigh, which ends
In his dear Silvia's spirit, by her sweet
Mouth it was catch't and seem'd with it to meet;
Her Echo quite enliv'ned him, but who
Could now declare the joy possest these two;
Aminta thought 'twas more then heav'nly charms,
That thus enclasp'd him in his Silvia's armes;
He that loves servant is, perhaps may guesse
Their blisse; but none there is can it expresse.
Chor.
And is Aminta fully cur'd canst tell?
No danger of his life?
Elp.
He's fully well:
'Tis true he's somewhat bruis'd, but nothing he
Do's it account, and nothing it will be;
Thrice happy he who did so fully prove
Love's worst, and now doth tast the sweets of love;
His sufferings and his torments onely be
Sweet seasonings of his felicitie.
Shepherds farewel. For I must once again
Make haste to find out the good old Montane.
CHORUS.
CAn that Martyrdom he prov'd,
While he serv'd, and while he lov'd,
While he hop'd, while he dispair'd,
While he sigh'd, and while he car'd,
Ever recompensed be
Though with joy's eternally?
What if sweet things sweeter more
Are when bitter go before?
What if good things better will
Be, if savour'd with some ill?
Yet Love I pray give me the lesse
Not this greater blessednesse.
If thou wilt, blesse others so,
Who this full blisse crave to know:
But let me my nymph enjoy,
For a word or for a toy,
Without sighs, and without care,
Without tears, without dispair.
Let the season'ngs of our love,
Such be as may onely move,
(Not such torments or such pain)
Sweet repulses, sweet disdain;
To which kind kisses may succeed,
To show our hearts are still agreed.
FINIS.
Poems.
Lucretia (ravished by Sextus Tarquine) to her Husband Collatine and her Friends.
TO whom should poor Lucretia bemoan,
Those wrongs, that outrage she has undergon
But to the Collatine? no more ah me!
No more, no more! thy faithful spouse is she:
Since Sextus did my innocence invade,
And our chast bed a lustful stew hath made;
If't be a sin to suffer this; if't be
A fault to yield to forcing Tyranny,
Rome judge me guilty: but if will alone
In crimes be argu'd: then Lucrece has none;
My body onely he defil'd, but stil
My purer mind rests guiltlesse from the ill;
Nor ever did my noble soul yet move
One footstep from it's loyal constant love;
I ne'r had thought to nuptial rights unjust,
Nor ever did invite proud Tarquins lust;
Nor sought he like a lover to prevail,
But like a bloody Tyrant did assaile
My chastity: I him esteem'd a foe
But yet did please him whe'r I would or no:
The Graecian Dames lamented Helens fate,
Curs'd him that sacred bed did violate:
You Latine matrons my hard hap bemoan,
We have a Roman Paris; nor alone
Is Troy of such faults guilty, great mens crimes
Grow still and follow'd are by future times.
What shall I do? no longer shal I be
Now fam'd amongst the Dames for chastity.
I may be stil'd a Matron, but no more,
An undefiled Matron, [...]s before:
Yet I am guiltlesse: and his force made foul
My body onely, but ne'r touch't my soul.
Doubt not ye Romans; for you streight shal see
A certain token of my constancy;
I'l give you a sure sign, for since deprive
His force did me of fame, I will not live;
But by my own hands dying will proclaim
His horrid wickednesse and my just fame.
They shan't point at Lucretia; ne'r will I
Leave to the Roman Dames a memory
That shal reproach them, nor can I give way
To let suspicion feign what ere she may;
This my magnanimous right hand shal be
The steerer of my faith, my chastity;
The Princes strong hand and his violent armes
Infolded me in these reproachful harms;
My violent hand shal my redeemer be,
And this sharp steel shal from them set me free:
We'l not unto our Country be a stain,
Nor give the wicked samples to profane
The sacred mariage rites, never from me
Shall Rome a sad example take to be
Subject to willing Tyranny: nay more
Perhaps my rape her freedom may restore;
When ages yet to come shall praise my name,
And if not patient, noble me proclaim:
In Brothers blood the first of Tyrants dies
His wals. this offers as a Sacrifice
A ravish'd spouses blood, that Tibers shore
May stain'd be both with male and female gore;
Thou Father take in hand thy dart, thou Brute
No more refuse to act, no more be mute,
Nor let unpunish'd go such cursed crimes,
But like a man revenge them; now the times
Of thy feign'd madnesse cease: he whose strong hand
Could overcome a woman, yet can't stand
Before you armed men, thus onely ease
And thus alone dear Collatine appease
Thou maist my ghost; let not th' adult'rer scape
The just reward of his most horrid rape;
Thestiad's sword was by Orestes head
Made famous: he defil'd his fathers bed.
I guiltlesse liv'd, and in that title die,
Yet my fame lost no longer live will I.
Vetruria to her Son, Cn. Martius Coriolanus, about to raise civil war against his Countrey.
WHat horrid madness do's thy brains infest,
Thus to disturb thy countries quiet rest
With hostile arms? what! canst thou think it good
To die a Latian dart in Roman blood?
Or canst imagine Romes injurious hate
Deserves to be reveng'd at such a rate?
Consider, Martius, by this dismal strife,
Thou cut'st the thred of thy Volumnia's life;
And whilst thou dost revenge thy private ill
Thou her who first gave life to thee dost kil;
What can thy fury make so foul a breach?
Can envy, hatred, malice, thus far reach?
And can that venerable name of Rome
Now in thy heart find no respectful room?
Wilt turn son to an en'my, make me share,
To be a consort in this bloody war?
Those Cities thou destroy'st are ours, each field
Wch thou laist wast doth us our comforts yeild;
Those wals which thou seekst todeface are mine,
Thy wif's, thy childrens, friends, nay very thine;
Let great Romes people guilty be, who did
Banish the man had been their glorious head;
The matrons guiltlesse are; with one accord
They damn'd the wickednesse: and all afford
Curses to those base Tribunes which she sent
To exile, and in vain these wars lament.
Consider yet, these, thy wife, children, I,
Amongst thy unjust foes intangled lie;
Thou with our danger seek'st revenge: and we
Though not in guilt, in it must partners be;
Seekst thou thus to embrace me? thus entwine
Me in thine arms? alas! they are not thine
They are my foes: and now thy mother I
By thee shal led be to Captivitie:
I for thy triumphs am design'd, and round
About thy armed bands must be led bound.
Those armes that us'd to reach the dug to thee,
By hostile armes must now inforced be.
Those houshold gods thou used'st to adore,
By armed fury wil be trampled o're;
The harmless child must with the rest be flain,
The guiltless receive part o'th'guilty's pain;
For this brought I thee forth (ah luckless day)
That thou mightest to the Volscians us betray?
Am I cause of this evil? must my name,
Great Romulus? eclipse thy Empires fame,
Since from my bowels issued that fierce boy,
Who seeks his native Country to destroy:
Wil't make me guilty of this, Martius? why
Shouldst thou thus strive to make me basely die?
Nay this thy crime being by thy Country laid
Unto my charge will sure disturb my shade;
Were I an exul too! 'twould ne'r grieve me,
To die by any one but onely she:
Disband dear Martius yet thy mighty powers
And be pleas'd with us: see those lofty towers
Long since by Romulus erected: see
Those stately Temples; reliques: let these be
Thy sweet appeasers, but if they won't move
Thee, yet think once more of thy kindreds love;
'Twill be a shame to thee if thou shouldst have
Her to thy wife who will be then thy slave;
Or what great honor thinkst thou wilt thou gain,
When thy dear mother captive doth remain:
Be wise, though angry, let not fury throw
Thee on designs whereby no praise doth grow;
If nothing else, yet let our tears thee move,
Mans suppl'ant tears will bend the mighty Jove;
But if my sighs and cries can't thee suspend
From such vile act'ons: if thy wife contemn'd
Be by thee; if thy gods get no respect;
Or if thy Countries name thou dost reject:
Turn thy sword in my bowels, let me feel
The sharpest force of thy revenging steel.
Those who before the mighty Rome did fear,
(The Vejans and Falisc ans) now will jeer;
How will the Samnites laugh to see that none
Can overcome great Rome, but she alone?
How willingly shal I consent to die,
Rather than see my Countries misery.
Cataline Exhorting his Souldiers to fight with Anthony.
HEre stand we fortune: nor hast thou us gi'n
A Captain who hath dull or sloathful bin;
What though the Romans are content to serve;
And from their ancient noble tenents swerve?
I by these wars choose rather to proclaim,
My man-like soule craves liberty or fame;
He onely ha's true honour who dare die
Rather than live in endlesse slavery;
And dying thus to shun a servile shame,
Loosing his life wins honour to his name.
What though my harder fortune may deny
To my full hopes successe or victory:
My daring and illustrious soul shall be,
For ever famous to posteritie;
Then let our onely hope of triumph rear
Our free-born souls and make them void of fear;
Why should we tremble at the Consuls sword,
Or be obedient to the Senates word,
Since we maintain that they no Senate be,
But meer usurpers of our liberty:
Why should the mighty Rome fear Cato? why
Should it to Piso Crassus subject lie?
W'are Romans too, and from the self same race
The footsteps of the fam'd Aeneas trace:
They'are not alone Quirinus off-spring, nor
Are they alone sprung from the god of war;
We from the same stock do descend, and claim
Right in the glories of our grandsires name:
Why should they ful with gold their treasures make?
Why we opprest with poverty? they rake
And squeeze the people to increase their gains,
Our riches are the fruits due to our pains;
They with their prouder faces do command,
And boast dominion o'r both sea and land;
Are we by birth or courage lesse then they?
Or have we no soul left but to obey?
Why should not they to us obedience shew,
Or why should they despise me thus? why you?
Are we thy laughing-stock proud Rome? must we
Be thus neglected and contemn'd by thee?
Whilst some with an insulting state do go
Bearing the mace before um, others flow
With heapt-upriches, these usurp the Laws,
And at their pleasure deal in every cause;
Such is their pride: the Consul seems to be
Subject unto the Tribunes tyranny;
When we like Cyphers stand, and void of state
Neglected lie like minds degenerate:
These live in stately marble structures, we
Must with poor cottages contented be,
These strive their Empire stil to magnifie,
And stretch their vast dominions to the sky;
We wanting all things miserably poor,
Are forc'd both cold and hungry to endure;
For this did nature us produce? or thus
To live? is this the fate assigned us?
Must we thus suffer? No, it shal not be
Our swords from what the gods themselves decree
Shal free us: he who bears a noble soul,
May destiny and fate it self controul;
Fortune assists the bold: let's not incite
It's frowns, nor our own slavery invite
By coward-minds; nor loose by our vain sloth,
The gaining Rome, or liberty, or both.
The hopes of gold imbolden some mens breasts,
Which an insatiate cov'tousuesse infests;
But let your courage spring from thoughts more high
It is your own; your country's liberty
You crave and fight for; here you nobly gain
Honour which truly do's requite your pain;
I'l be both Souldier, and your General,
Nor me Commander but Companion call;
To Roman tyrants I'l their pride make known,
And wil revenge, hers, your wrongs, and my own
This hand devoted to my Countries health
Shal fight for you; this shal restore your wealth:
Revenge the altars of the gods through death
And slaughters, give Rome new & freeborn breath
Go then, and with couragious minds assaile,
The Consuls tents, and doubt not to prevail.
Hope in the Victor-gods: now only force
Convenes, sloth hurts, nor must ye have remorse,
Or being Romans, Romans fear to kil.
Pity's good after fight, before 'tis ill.
Unbridled fury now of all helps best;
And fear to kil, denotes too base a breast;
But whosoe'r he be that fears to die,
Half dead already is, to death more nigh;
There is no hope in flight, a double host
With all their pow'r on each side doth accost
Our tents: the Alpes encompasse us half round,
The Consul is possess'd of yonder ground;
That side presents Metellus to our sight,
There is no way of safety but by fight:
Go on then bravely let your sharp swords find
A passage through them, he that ha's a mind
To fight may scape, at least he'l nobly die,
Not like a carcase unrevenged lie:
Then let not fear surprise your hearts, be bold,
The Roman people shal as wel behold
The slaughter of their own, as ours, and he
That drinks this blood with his 't shal mixed be;
And though they Victors are, they shal not boast,
But rather weep the bloody conquests cost.
Mutius Scaevola to Porsenna, when killing his Secretary instead of him be was taken.
BEhold grim Tyrant, here before thee stands,
A man had been thy death, had not these hands
Prov'd Traitors to my mind: had made that grave
Been thine; which now's prepared for thy slave.
If Scaevola must undergo deaths doom,
There's none but will write guiltlesse on his tomb:
I set upon with fearlesse courage those
Who were our Capitols, our Countries foes;
Why are the heav'ns then thus against me bent?
And not propit'ous to my brave intent?
What! are the gods asham'd to lend their aid?
Or are they of this Tyrants pow'r afraid?
Or have the fates reserved him that he
In future triumphs might a trophie be?
What e'r 'twas made them thus 'gainst me conspire,
It grieves my soul it had not it's desire;
Etruria see what souls the Romans bear,
Admire the noble acts the Latians dare;
Long after me that wil this fact yet do
There comes another and another too;
There want not those who hope to say they wore
A lawrel died in thy crimson gore:
What though thy Camp lies free from our alarms,
And spoils our fields with unrevenged harms;
We scorn with baser blood to stain a dart,
O King, that's onely level'd at thy heart:
Our nobler swords wil drink the blood of none,
But thy heart blood, Porsenna, thine alone;
Those who their hands wil strait in it imbrue,
Walk intermixed with thy armed crew.
Methinks I see at present one thee note,
Who strait wil hide his weapon in thy throat;
Hence therfore think each hower of thy breath,
To be the assured hower of thy death;
Thou dost with warlike troups our wals surround,
Hoping to lay them level with the ground,
And think'st to famish us whilst o'r thy head
Hangs a revengeful arm wilstrike thee dead;
That glorious Diadem which now I see
Circles thy brow was hop'd a spoil by me;
That purple robe invests thy loins shal lie,
Thy blood be tinged in a deeper dy;
That very scepter which thy hand sustains,
Shal, turn'd a club, dash out thy cursed brains;
Now Rule, now Lord and King it, with this fate
Expecting still the period of thy date.
Methinks I see how on thy curled brow,
Self-rendring vengeance sits inthron'd, and how
Thy thoughts already tear me; yet I feel
No horror, nor my frighted body reel,
No trembling in my joynts: know, King, I can
Both do and suffer 'bove the reach of man:
In freeborn souls pale terror never stood
In competition with thier Countries good;
Those souls in whom aspiring fame her sphear
Hath plac't, neglect the precipice of fear.
This sacred Altar, these pure fires shal be
Witnesse of our undaunted constancy;
This hand to Roman freedom so unjust,
Shal for it's pennance be consum'd to dust;
Nor is it cruel, but most right it's doom,
Since liberty it could not yeild to Rome.
On a Lady sick of the smal pox.
LEt those whose tow'ring thoughts can from the spring
Of Helicon their high-flown fancies bring,
Invoke their muse, and in their loftier strains
Distill those streams that flow from nobler veins,
My grov'ling muse ne'r knew what meant the fire
Of a Poetick rapture, till mine ire,
When envious sicknesse seis'd so fair a frame,
Constrain'd me thus to burst into a flame:
And shall base scab I at thy malice chide,
Or thy poor silly impudence deride?
Alas! because that of't those rosean buds,
Which sooner then the rest throw off their hoods
To shew their native beauty, and display
Their modest blushes to the early May,
Are nipt by suddain frosts like those that meet,
When freed from swathling bands, their winding sheet
Dost think therfore that thy malicious spite
Can check the dawnings of her beauteous light?
Which shines eradiant as the day when born,
On the wing'd shoulders of a clearer morn;
Hadst thou attempted on some meaner face,
Where beauties lustre shone with common grace;
It might have yeilded when thou didst assaile:
But here thy poyson can no more prevaile
Than can that sable mantle, which the night
Draws o'r the world, and so presents our sight,
Those lesser fires not cease to be no more,
When glitt'ring Phaebus guilds the Eastern shore:
But stay, perhaps it was not malice made
Thy noxious heat thus boldly to invade
Such matchlesse beauty. Sol himself began
With anxious envy to look pale and wan,
And fearing lest hereafter should arise
Such splendor from the sun-shine of her ey's,
As should obscure and dark his glory, sent
Strait out of policy an instrument,
To damp that brightness and eclipse those raies,
Which he foresaw would rob him of his bayes;
'Twas wisely done! could that judicious head
Which comprehends all wit be thus mis-led?
Sure he forgot how that his beams do use
To clear those mists which oft do circunfuse
His splendid orb, and dart with greater light
Through darkness would obscure the day with night:
So having clear'd those mists she will appear,
A Sun more bright in beauties Hemisphear.
In praise of a Constable.
ALas alas! see how my muse
Ha's broke her ham-strings, slipt her noose,
Her fancy tow'rs aloft, nor will
A common subject please her quill;
She's like those rev'rend Sirs which preach
What's far above their wisdoms reach,
As if their nonsense had the merit,
To have it father'd on some spirit:
She'l sing a theme'bove what she's able,
John Petty Tyrant the Constable:
But see alas she's big with doubt,
Some zealous mid-wife help her out,
That she may first be brought to bed
Of his light horn, or his light head;
Thanks Sir, it's done, nor thinks she scorn
In the first file to rank his horn;
In hopes she may be the Recorder,
That he's dub'd knight o'th' forked order;
Hail then, Sir John, and think't no wipe,
You shal have th'pot, your wife the pipe,
What would you rost your nose and ey's,
And have her freeze between the thighs?
You'l represent his Highnesse grace,
Let some Sir then supply your place.
But hark methinks the clocks go twelve,
Let's up and seek those fairy elves
Which us'd to riot in the night,
Because by day their purse is light,
Who (maids) do use to deal their knocks,
Not pinch your arms, but pick your locks:
Hobgoblins which do use to scare
A miser worse than Bull or Bear;
He's up and like a brave Commander,
Who's wit would shame my Grandams gander;
First with the choicest of his crew
He mans his fort, sets some perdieu;
Then ranks the rest, and so they go
As stout as hares to start the foe;
Thus they march, but by his side,
A brave Esquire of mickle pride,
Who with quick eye and prickt-up ear,
First finds out what doth cause their fear.
'Twas this Lynceus piercing eye,
A hideous Monster doth espie,
Which he beholds with start up hairs
Devoutly falling to his pray'rs.
And then almost half dead cries out,
Unto the rest of the bold rout:
Oh Sirs we're dead, ha'ye made your wils?
Oh dismal night, prepare your bils,
The Monster looks most wrath and wood,
As if he meant to suck your blood;
We better had fierce Lions meet,
It's dire Sir Backbite many feet,
What shall we do alack, alack,
He ha's th' Constable by the back,
At which words their stout Generall
Through valour lets his weapon fall,
Being of a couragious mind
Discharg'd a Lulloim behind,
Which mist the foe, my muse supposes,
And yet assailed all their noses;
Some cri'd the gun was foul and stank,
Because the powder was too dank,
By his quick fall my muse stil boaded,
That he the gun had overloaded;
Which so recoiled at the blow,
It made him fall beneath the foe,
At which their fear redoubled, and
Like men bereft of sense they stand,
Till at the length one stout as steel
Doth pluck his heart out of his heel;
And apprehends the foe, their cries
In his applause strait rend the skies:
Some said he was Sir George alone,
Some the sev'n Champions all in one,
No living man, they all agree,
Could do such feats of Chivalry;
Whilst thus they echo out his praise,
One charitably seeks to raise
Their leader, who, he strait doth find,
Ha's shot before and eke behind:
He then with kind words doth him greet,
But finds his heart stuck in his teeth;
Amazed then he puls in haste
A bottle from beneath his waste;
Unstops and dext'rously let flies
Streams of strong-waters in his eyes,
And so recall'd his fleeting soul,
Their joy then sounds without controul;
They now march back to th' Cittadel,
And on the pris'ners quarters fell;
Some would condemn him to the jaile,
Some show their teeth, and some their naile;
Their Gen'ral, who had art at will,
Would have him thrust through with a bill;
They all concluded with a shout,
He had the wisest judgement out,
So strait they chose from out the rest
One whom they did esteem the best,
For he had long be a tride fighter,
And had destroy'd Sir Skip Backbiter,
This monster Cousin Germain, and
Now takes his lance into his hand,
Shakes it, and with career doth run
More fierce than e'r did knight o'th' Sun,
And with the shock o'rethrows the foe, who lies
Rowling o'th' ground, gives up the ghost & dies;
And now, my friends, 'twas my intent,
But that the night is so far spent,
T' interr the monster, and to write
A full relation of the fight,
On's tomb; but hearken it doth chime,
The Clock tels four, it is full time,
That sick Sir John were brought to's home,
Whither at length he being come,
Found that's wife, pitying his case,
Had got a friend to warm his place;
Here then they leave him and think best,
That all repair unto their rest;
And my muse so benum'd she scarce could creep,
Is at the length crawl'd home and fal'n asleep.
A voyage from Egypt.
NOt of those giants great I sing,
That did hils top o't'other fling
For to climb up to Heaven;
Nor yet of Theseus noble facts,
Or Hercules his valiant acts,
Or the worlds wonders seven:
2.
I sing not of those Trojan wars,
VVhose fame already mounts the stars,
Or vict'ry of the Greeks;
Nor yet will I employ my muse
To tell you how they fed the Jews
With garlick and with leeks.
3.
But yet the best I can I'l tell
What in a voyage me befell
Made from a land of Moors:
A land of asses well you wot
I left, but yet I'l tell you what,
I chanc'd to light 'mongst
I came on a Flemish ship.
bores.4.
I never thought beasts of that race
Did use the surging seas to trace;
Their brawn is good at feasts,
But yet I'l tell you I might guesse
Both lands were low, so more or lesse
Both people might be beasts.
5.
Good god! should I give you account
Of all my labours, they'd surmount
Great Hercules his
I had occasion of no more.
seven;For I believe these bores are so
Much like the Turks, they think to go,
By bestialities to Heaven.
6.
First come aboard with a great stir,
They gruntled out, You'r welcome Sir?
I star'd and was half daunted:
They grin'd and grunted so together,
That what with that, and the foul weather,
I fear'd I was inchanted.
7.
The Captain strait me carries in,
And drinks to me in my own wine,
'Tis true I tell you now,
And faith I judg'd it well as yet,
If I amongst these Bores could get
A pig of my own sow.
8.
But when we came to dinner, oh,
My mouth with water 'gan to flow
You never saw the like:
For I believe that such pure meat,
So sluttish drest, was never eat
By any Irish Tike.
9.
I now 'gan to repent in vain,
And wish'd my self ashore again
To feed there like an asse,
But all alas would not prevail,
For now our ship was under sail,
I wisht't had been on grasse.
10.
But come, I will observe some order,
Though they had none in all their larder,
And tell you of their diet;
I do beleive you'l think it good,
But this advise you that you wou'd
Ne'r venture for to try it.
11.
First enter then a bowl of beans,
Boil'd just to mash, and swims with streams
Of grease as black as hell:
'Tis good sea meat, you need not chew it,
And if you're sick with ease you spew it,
And this I think likes well.
12.
The next is lentils which they boil
With a commixtion of whales oyl,
With that a little brandy;
Then Devils Cook with all your tricks,
And boil the waters of black Stix,
This dish wil go beyond ye.
13.
Then comes in Stock-fish ful as tough
As Bacon rind, and twice as rough,
They'l take no pains to beat it;
And I'l besworn can I get hay
That feed but like a horse I may,
I'l take no pains to eat it.
14.
To see the maggots in the Cheese
Is that which best of all doth please,
How monstrously they shew;
A vomit or a stool to urge,
You need no glister nor a purge,
Ne'r fear but this will do.
15.
But if on Sundays we did get
A piece of powder'd beef, why it
Was monstrous rare and fine,
O then you'd see them flash and slay,
And swear by th' Sacrament that they
Like Hogon Mogons dine.
16
'Tis true the flesh a hogo has
But yet with them it well doth passe
For wonderous good fare,
And now I've told you of their meat,
I'l tell you who they were it eat,
You'l judge what Bores they are.
17.
Then first the Captain mounts the stage,
And he appears a Saint of age
Although he be not old;
Yet so his grace his age outstript,
That full nine years since he was dipt,
As I have oft been told.
18
O 'tis a fatted Boar I'l swear,
That with his bristles and his hair,
He's full ten foot about,
And faith when first I did him see,
I thought Golias such as he
Though this wa'n't half so stout.
19.
Had you but seen with how much pains
He'd wallow down the meat like grains,
'T would put you in a fear;
For if you seek the whole world round
Scarce such another would be found,
Unless't a Marriot were.
20.
I wondred much how he could stay,
To hear grace said, or rather pray-re
For 'twas not he that said it,
But if you understand aright,
It did but whet his appetite,
God! how he after paid it.
21.
Next mounts the mate our holy brother,
The world affords not such another;
'Tis a most precious Saint,
O you might hear him preach and pray,
Till quite his breath was gone away,
I'm sure til I did faint.
22.
O what a piece of carrion 'twas,
As lean as any straw-fed Asse,
A pox upon his lungs,
For had you heard his tittle tattle
You would have sworn by his prattle,
He had had twenty tongues.
23.
You'l judge the rest of this foul rabble,
And put me to no further trouble;
That I felt there was sore,
And I imagine all like me,
That were they caught but once, they'd be
Intrapped by them no more.
24.
I do believe these are the swine,
With whom the prodigal did dine,
At least like them they be:
But if his whores were of this kind,
He had a dev'lish lustful mind,
Faith he should—for me.
25.
But all this while we under saile
Endured many a bitter gale,
And yet I wisht for more;
I was so tired with hard fare,
That in good troth I did not care
Though I came wet ashore.
26.
At length we reach'd Messina; here
The Spanish Boyes did scold and jeer,
And cal'd me English dog,
I thought they with more reason might,
Against the Captain vent their spite,
And call him Flemish hog.
27.
Wel, here I some refreshment got,
I after wish'd I had it not,
It made my grief the more;
For all my hate to Borish diet,
Yet I was forc'd again to try it,
Which worse was than before.
28.
Scarce gotten from Messina well,
Becalm'd before the gates of hel
Full fourteen dayes we lay;
Judge now in what a case we were,
They call it Strombello, and here
The Devil dwels they say.
29.
I think the Dee'l had a desire,
To Cook a whole Bore at his fire,
But none were good enough;
'Twas well for them they wa'n't in case,
And though the Captains burly face,
Yet he was found too tough.
30.
At last we reach'd unto our port,
Which made my heart begin to sport,
I thought I was in heaven,
This voyage taught me how to preach,
But all the doctrine that I teach,
Is w'are the Flemings leaven.
Dom. Baudii. Gno. Iamb. lib. primus.
WHo bears a manlike soul, or valiant breast
Provokes not dangers to disturb his rest,
Nor is so prodigal on every cause,
Too light to spend his strength, but when the lawes
The true Religion, or his Countries good
Crave his assistance, freely spils his blood;
To cast away our life denotes a fear,
Who throws not off that load he cannot bear?
Cato or Cassius scarce deserv'd a room
In fame, and vertue groan'd to raise their tomb:
We might more justly praise to Otho lend,
Who liv'd a woman; like a man did end.
The Defiance.
1.
NO more, no more, no more fond love will I
Own thee to be a deity,
No longer fear thy bow or dart,
Or think th' hast pow'r to wound a heart,
There's none but fools are subject to thy skil,
I'l scorn thy force, and love but where I will;
Let dotards hold thou canst controul
The motions of a noble soul,
I'l never fear to be thy slave,
Or think that o'r my heart thou pow'r canst have.
2.
Then childish boy, go let thy weaker darts
Pierce sottish fools or mad-mens hearts,
In vain, in vain they here are thrown,
Think not with steel to pierce a heart of stone:
No, thou maist sooner move the firmament,
Make the poles meet, than make my heart relent;
Tis too too firm, nor will it be
Bound to so base a slavery,
Nor can my noble constant mind
To any force or power be confin'd.
3.
Nay I'l not onely not be slave to thee,
But thou shalt be a slave to me,
I will usurp thy pow [...]r and find
Ways to subject a female mind,
Which thou fond boy couldst never boast to know,
And not insnare, but fairly force my foe,
Whilst thou shalt pine because
My power exceeds thy laws,
And shalt be forc'd to yeild to me
Thy bow, thy dart, thy very deity.
The wonder.
1.
I Can't devise what Devil 'tis can move
Men to this fond, this foolish passion love,
In the best woman I spy not one part,
Worthy to wound a noble heart,
Nor can the beauties of a face,
A comely carri'ge or a grace,
Wit or discourse, in my poor soule take place.
2.
'Tis true in beauty I find some delight,
But yet no farther than to please my sight,
I love fair eyes, I love a Rosie cheek,
I love a skin that's smooth and sleek,
I love soft breasts: but of all these
There's none that with my heart agrees,
They onely serve my outward sense to please.
3.
Strange that menssouls should be bewitcht and [...]
Subject to darting of a female eye,
No soule's sure so ignoble to take fire,
From such a low base-born desire,
They're made our servants, and shal we
By loving them, make them to be
Equal? nay grant them superioritie?
4.
There may be witchcraft in a comely grace,
There may be witchcraft in a beauteous face,
But I for ever that pow'r in love dis-own,
That makes me others slave then's own,
'Tis worse than Turkish Tyranny,
In love for him to make me be
To her that is my slave in slavery.
The Composition.
THreat'st thou to wound me? fool thou threat'st in vain,
Thou maist shake heav'n with lesser pain,
Or make the mountains plain,
The Northern pole go move,
Go bring the bright Sun from above,
And then come boast th'hast forc'd me love.
2.
I'd have thee know I have a flinty heart,
That scorns thy utmost power or art,
Nay thy all-piercing dart,
Go and let it's steely head
Imprint it self on hearts of lead,
None break a flint but on a feather-bed.
3.
I dare thy foolish threats, but hadst thou come
With pray'rs and humbly sought a room
Perhaps I had gi'n thee some,
Strong Rhodes was found
'Gainst Turkish force to keep her ground,
But fair conditions offer'd, did compound.
4.
Then if that laying by thy bow and dart,
By league thou wilt secure my heart,
Let's thus conditions part;
I'l leave that whole to thee
But thou must let me still go free,
With bag and baggage both from it and thee.
The Conquest.
GEntly kind love restrain, restrain thy hand,
Keep back thy cruel pricking dart
Lest it not wound but kill my heart;
I yeild, who dare resist if thou command;
O let it be enough for thee,
That thou hast gain'd o'r me the victory,
Do not insult upon my misery.
2.
Shouldst thou continue still to conquer me,
And should'st not to my o'reflown grief
Send some small comfort or relief,
Death would at last of both have victory;
Be merciful and let me live,
Lest while t'inlarge thy power thou dost strive,
Thy cruelty Subjects of life deprive.
3.
I ask no more, but so far pity me
As with the self same dart
To wound her frozen heart,
That so she may no more relentlesse be,
And thus shalt thou two subjects gain,
Who will this victory of thine proclaim,
And ever honour thy all-conquering name.
Reason in Love.
TIs not the lustre of thy darting eye
Which shines so gloriously,
Nor is't thy twin-born milk-white breasts which shew
Like mounts of purer snow,
'Tis not thy cherry lip or golden hair,
Which makes me judge thee fair,
Nor is't thy pleasant sweet discourse or wit,
Nor what proceeds from it,
Thy comely carriage or thy grace, can move
Me to adore or love.
But 'tis thy purer soul which still I find
Compliant to my mind;
In all things but what would most pleasant be
That is thy loving me,
Wer't then fair Hellen fairer, couldst thou boast
Thy beauty o'r the most.
Didst thou in all mens judgments where thou'rt seen
Exceed the sea-born Queen;
If the least falsenesse in thy soul I see,
Thou'dst seem most foule to me:
Were thy mind blemisht with the smallest blot,
Or the least faithlesse spot,
The blackest ill-look'd Indian would appear
To me than thee more rare;
'Tis the bright soul that darting out it's light
Makes beauty a delight,
Which else like the inclouded Sun would be
Gloomy and dark to me:
'Tis that alone which me thy slave can make,
And love thy body for thy fair souls sake.
Beauty.
1.
THou soul-bewitching devil, at first made
Mens inward senses to invade,
That hast the power to invite
Mans purer mind unto a feign'd delight:
That first dost conquer with thy flatt'ring eye,
And then insult'st upon our misery.
2.
Thou heart-entrapping witch, which do'st deprive,
Men first of sense, and then of life;
Thou snake that li'st'mongst fairest flower
Rais'd by the moisture of sweet Aprill showers;
And so with greater ease do'st work our harmes,
Regarding none but only thy own charmes.
3.
Thou meere conceit of mans imagination,
Blown up and down, fixt to no station;
Which hast no more in thee of blisse,
Then what by his fond soule imagin'd is;
So, if a Chaos by him deemed be,
Faire 'tis, by much more beautifull then she.
4.
Thou painted garnish'd flower, only made
To flatter men, and then to fade:
That so they punished may be,
Like Tantalus, not to enjoy, but see;
Mounting them up, first to a promis'd blisse,
To let them fall to more unhappinesse.
5.
Thou fruit, like cursed Sodoms, which do'st lie
Delighfull pleasing to the eye:
But if once toucht like them thou'rt found,
But onely fair without, within unsound
Like summer pears, a pleasant outward part,
But if once cut, found rotten at the heart.
The Variety.
THou saist I swore I lov'd thee best,
And that my heart liv'd in thy breast,
And now thou wondrest much that I
Should what I swore then, now deny,
And upon this thou taxest me
With faithlessenesse, inconstancy:
Thou hast no reason so to do,
Who can't dissemble ne'r must wooe.
2.
That so I lov'd thee 'tis confest,
But 'twas because I judg'd thee best,
For then I thought that thou alone
Wast vertues, beauties paragon:
But now that the deceit I find,
To love thee still were to be blind,
And I must needs confesse to thee
I love in love variety.
3.
Alas! should I love thee alone,
In a short time I should love none;
Who on one well lov'd feeds, yet,
Once being cloy'd, of all, loaths it;
Would'st thou be subject to a fate
To make me change my love, to hate?
Blame me not then, since 'tis for love
Of thee, that I inconstant prove.
4.
And yet in truth 'tis constancy,
For which I am accus'd by thee;
To nature those inconstant are,
Who fix their love on one that's faire;
Why did she, but for our delight,
Present such numbers to our sight;
'Mongst all the earthly Kings, theres none
Contented with one Crown alone.
She inconstant.
HA! now you think y'have cheated me, oh no,
I did believe you would do so:
Who ever did the various wind
Still constant to one corner find?
Whenever did the changling air
Show it self stil serene and fair?
Yet we might sooner hope these thus should be,
Than think to find in woman constancy.
2.
We may as well command the Sun not move,
As you with constancy to love,
Or bid the sea be free from waves,
When stormy blustring Boreas raves,
Nay we as well the Moon might wooe,
To leave her weekly change as you:
Your nature 'tis, and should you constant be,
I fear you'd prove unnatural to me.
3.
You lighter much than feathers are, and so
Must move with whar e'r wind doth blow,
Hurried about, now here, now there,
Now yonder; but yet fixt no where.
Perhaps at length a gust may be
To bring you back once more to me;
But Jove forbid: for yet I fear thou'dst move
My ensnar'd soule to ruine in thy love.
The Resolution.
1.
NOw by that beauty I so much adore,
I am resolv'd to dote no more,
No longer shall my passions strive
Me of my reason to deprive,
No longer will I subject be,
But nobly set my heart at liberty.
2.
Then go dear heart, and be no more confin'd
To a womans changling mind;
Why should'st thou a subject be
To their selfe-will'd tyranny;
Break, break thy bands and fetters, know,
Subject to her, thou'rt subject to a foe.
3.
Theres nought in her that thee her slave hath made,
'Tis thou that hast thy selfe betraid,
By fanc'ing that her beauties shine
Like something more then halfe divine:
Think then thy selfe deceiv'd to be,
Thou'rt undeceiv'd, and art than thought more free.
4:
'Tis men alone that womens Empire raise,
By wooing them with fancied praise;
When, if we would their masters be,
They must grant Superiority:
Nay, did we cease to flatter thus,
'Twould not be long ere they would flatter us.
5:
Cease then my heart, and dote no more in vain,
Thou never thus the fort wilt gain;
No more upon entreaties stand,
But learn like her how to command;
Those Castles which find no remorse,
On summons must be taken in by force.
She Weeping.
1.
SEe how she weepes, with what a grace
Sorrow it selfe showes in her face;
See how her ey's still dart their beams,
Nothing ecclipsed by those streams;
See how those teares sprung from her eye,
Like pearles enchas'd on rubies lie.
2.
So have I seen the clouds distill,
Their heat drops, yet the Sun shine still:
Which only some refreshment yield
To the before Sun-scorched field;
Ah! precious teares, might you but be
Of halfe that comfort unto me,
Then should I deeme them far more rare,
Then all the Ocean jewells are;
But what avails it, since in vaine,
I hope they should refresh my pain?
Since, Ah poore me! I plainly see
They tears of greife, not pity be:
The Wish.
1.
NO: my desires are limited; nor expand,
They halfe so far: I do not crave,
To have dominion o're a mighty land,
Nor Cressue riches would I have;
The Grecian Empire would not be,
Of any comfort or content to me.
2.
While she, deare she, deigns not to cast an eye,
Of pity, or regard my greife,
Rather insults upon my misery;
So far, so far! shee's from releife;
Ah fairest Nymph, all that I crave,
Is that one look of pity I might have.
3.
Would'st thou be pleas'd but once to smile on me,
For that smile I'd the Indies slight,
In them there could not halfe that comfort be;
Not half that pleasure or delight:
No, the whole world to me would seem
For such a favour of too smal esteem.
4.
One smile I wish, nor would I have thee be
Too lavish of such boons as those,
Ah! how much would poor one recomfort me,
One smile enough thy pity showe:
And should'st thou not it then with-hold.
With joy I die, or else grow over-bold.
Despair.
1.
AH me! my tears and sighs I waste in vain,
In vain of her I beg releif,
Who neither pity's nor regards my pain,
Nor will yeild comfort to my grief.
2.
No more, no more in vain to thee I'l cry,
No thou my sighs no more shalt hear,
But to some lone shade I'l retire and lie,
Lamenting my hard fortune there.
3.
Where the kind Echo from th'inclosed air
Shall grant to me what e'r I say,
And from the hollow rocks answer my pray'r,
Nor ever, like thee, say me nay.
4.
But yet I fear lest while I here impart,
And tell my griefs unto each tree;
My bosome be not left without a heart,
'Twil stil burst out and fly to thee.
Love or no Love.
I Think I lov'd but for pastime, or so,
Nor can I well tell if I lov'd or no,
Sure, Love, I did but jeer thee: for I find
Thou hast left no impression on my mind;
Thy shafts ne'r yet touch'd me, nor did thy dart
That I was sensible, e'r wound my heart,
Yet I can love without thee, nor canst thou
Subject that heart will sooner break than bow.
Strange! that men should be causers of their woe,
And fancy passions when they are not so,
Thou hast no pow'r to conquer; but what we
By fancying a subjection give to thee.
I can love so that neither my desire
Can mount so high as to be term'd a fire,
And I can cease to love when e'r I please,
Nor one, nor t'other shall disturb my ease.
Go then fond boy, and break thy feebler darts,
And boast no more thy pow'r to conquer hearts,
Since I have learn'd to fool thy pow'r and thee,
And love, or not love with Tranquillity.
Gold.
1.
BAse sottish Idol, which dost vainly boast,
T' extend thy pow'r from coast to coast,
Vaunting that there Temples be
Rear'd in every heart to thee,
Boast no more, for thou shalt find
No altars smoaking in my mind.
2.
What though the greatest kings thy subjects be,
I'l not sacrifice to thee,
Nor will spend one idle hower
To adore thy flatt'ring power,
Fools! to adore a god will be
False to um in necessity.
3.
Let the curs'd Tyrant new inventions find,
To please his never glutted mind,
Let him his Subjects squeeze and rake,
And ful with gold his checquer make,
Yet at the end he shal confesse
Mine is the greater happinesse.
4.
Let the fond merchant seek the Indian shore,
To find out treasures more and more,
And venture life and libertie,
Nay wife and children all for thee,
Having done what he can invent,
He'l find that I live more content.
5.
Let the learn'd Chymist striving to extract
Thee from his fancies, or compact
The Elixar to encrease his gains,
Loose both his treasure and his pains,
And then he wil confesse that I
Have liv'd by much more happily.
6.
Let the extorting Us'rer carp and care,
And pinch his guts his god to spare,
And let him unknown wayes invent
To raise, or else to rack his rent,
To leave his gold he'l make more moan,
Than ever I did to have none.
The Farewel.
1.
NOw perverse world I'l bid thee quite farewel,
What is there in thee that can please?
Thy greatest joy's disturb our ease,
Thy favours thou at too dear rate dost sell,
No, I'l thy slave no longer be,
But quite retreat my self from thee,
Or to some pleasant shade, or to a gloomy Cell.
2.
There in dull silence will I spend my dayes,
Slighting thy favours and my fame,
In vain men seek to get a name,
Or their false glory in thy crouds to raise,
Since that their living trophees must
By time or fate consume to dust,
And then what rests there of their toil-got praise?
3.
Yet in despite of thee my name shall be
The talk of ages yet to come,
In every time there shall be some,
Which shall applaud me more for leaving thee,
Then those fond simple fools who do
Imbrace thy woes and honours too,
And make me famous to posteritie.
FINIS.
BOOKS Printed for JOHN STARKEY At the sign of the MITER, near the middle TEMPLE-GATE in Fleetstreet.
Courteous Reader.
These Books following are printed for, and sold by John Starkey, at his shop at the Miter, near the Middle Temple-gate in Fleet-street.
Books in Divinity.
1. MR. Thomas Hall's Practical and Polemical Commentary, or, Exposition upon the third and fourth Chapters of the latter Epistle of St. Paul to Timothy, wherein the Text is explained, fome Controversies discussed, sundry Cases of Conscience are cleared, many Common Places are succinctly handled, and divers Useful, and seasonable Observations raised. fol.
2. Mr. Thomas Halls Homesus Enervatus, or a Confutation of the Millenarian Opinion, plainly shewing that Christ will not Raign with the Saints for 1000. yeares on Earth, with a Word to our fifth Monarchy men, in octavo.
3. Mr. Thomas Halls Apologia pro Ministerio Evangelico, in quà planè & plenè ostenditur ejus necessitas, dignitas, Efficacia & Ʋtilitas; in 8o.
4. Mr. Richard Baxters Directions, and Perswasions to a sound Conversion, for prevention of that deceipt and Damnation of Soules; and of those scandalls, heresies, and desperate apostasies, that are the consequents of a counterfeit or superficiall Change, this being the second Part of the Call to the Ʋnconverted, in octavo.
5. Mr: Richard Baxter. The Grotian Religion discovered at the Invitation of Mr. Thomas Pierce in his Vindication, with a Vindication of the Synod of Dort, from the Calumnies of the New Tylenus, and the Puritanes from the censure of Mr. Pierce, in octavo.
6. Mr. Richard Baxter of Saving Faith, that it is not only Gradually, but Specifically distinct from all common Faith, being a Treatise in answer to Mr. Barlow of Oxford, in quarto.
7. Dr. Thomas Goodwin Opuscula Theologica, in octavo.
8. Mr. Thomas Gataker, Gods Eye on his Israel; being an Exposition on Numbers 23.21. in quarto.
9. Mr. Thomas Gataker, de Justificatione, & de Dipthongis, in twelves.
10. Mr. William Cartwright of Oxford, his Sermon of the Passion of Christ, in octavo.
11. Mr. Thomas Warrens Justification Justified, or a Treatise of Justification by Faith, in octavo.
12. Mr. Thomas Coopers Act of Giving, or a Guide to Charity, in octavo.
13. Mr. John Phillips Christian Alphabet, Containing Grounds of Knowledge unto Salvation, in twelves.
14. Mr. Adam Harsnets Gods Summons into a Generall Repentance, in twelves.
15. Mr. Thomas Hooker of New-England, his Miscelanies, containing five Excellent Treatises in Divinity, in twelves.
16. Mr. Richard Sedgwick. The Synopsis of Christianity, in an Exposition of the Commandements, Lords Prayer, and the Creed, in octavo.
Books of History and Humanity.
17. LEtters of Affaires, Love, and Courtship, written to severall Persons of Honour and Quality, by the Exquifite Pen of Monsieur de Voiture, Englished by J. D. in octavo.
18. Mr. Walter Mountague his Shepherds Paradise, a Comedy privately acted before the late King Charles, by the Queens Majesty, and her Ladies of Honour, whose names are prefixt, in octavo.
19. Mr. Thomas Halls Phaetons Folly, being a Translation of the second Book of Ovids Metamorphosts, Paraphrastically and Grammatically; with an Essay on Ovid de Tristibus, in octavo.
20. Mr. Agricola Carpentars Magical Description of the soule, in octavo.
21. Mr. John Hayes Compleat Tradesman, or a Guide for the true Stating of Interest, at Six per Cent. per. Annum, with other usefull Tables, in twelves.
22. A Relation of the Life of the Famous Christina, Queen of Sweden, whereunto is added [Page]her Genius, Translated out of French by J. H. in quarto.
23. France no friend to England, or the Rosentments of the French, upon the successe of the English, as it is expressed in a Remonstrance to the King of France, upon the surrendering of Dunkirke into the hands of the English, wherein much of the private Transactions between Cardinall Mazarine, and the late Protector, Oliver, are discovered, Translated out of French, in quarto.
24. Mr. Henery Prashams Truth of Time, Revealed, in twelves.
25. Aminta, the Famous Pastorall, written in Italian, by Signoir Torquato Tasso, and Translated into English Verse by John Dancer; together with divers Ingenuous Poems, in octavo.
In the Presse.
A Rare Piece, Intitled, the World Surveyed, or the Famous Voyages and Travells of Monsieur Vincent Le Blanc, Alias, White, a Frenchman of Marseilles, who, from the age of twelve yeares [Page]to threescore, travelled through the East and West-Indies, and most habitable Parts of the World: with a Description of all those Countries he past through; the whole Work enriched with many pleasant Histories, Translated out of French into English, by W. P. folio.