Mop. Yes, if you be theIoculothat I take you for, we haue heard of your exployts for cosoning of some seuen and thirtie Alewiues in the Villages here about.
Io. A wit as nimble as a Sempsters needle or a girles finger at her Buske poynt.
Mop. Your iest goes too low, sir.
Fris. O but tis a tickling iest.
Io. Who wold haue thought to haue found this in a plaine villaine that neuer woare better garment than a greene Ierkin?
Fris. O Sir, though you Courtiers haue all the honour you haue not all the wit.
Mop. Soft sir, tis not your witte can carry it away in this company.
Io. Sweet Rogues, your companie to me is like musick to a wench at midnight when she lies alone and could wish,—yea, marry could she.
Fris. And thou art as welcome to me as a new poking stick to a Chamber mayd.
Mop. But, soft; who comes here?
Enter the Faieries, singing and dauncing.
By the moone we sport and play,With the night begins our day;As we daunce, the deaw doth fall;Trip it little vrchins all,Lightly as the little Bee,Two by two and three by three:And about go wee, and about go wee.[115]
Io. What Mawmets[116] are these?
Fris. O they be the Fayries that haunt these woods.
Mop. O we shall be pincht most cruelly.
1Fay. Will you haue any musick sir?
2Fay. Will you haue any fine musicke?
3Fay. Most daintie musicke?
Mop. We must set a face on't now; there's no flying; no, Sir, we are very merrie, I thanke you.
1Fay. O but you shall, Sir.
Fris. No, I pray you, saue your labour.
2Fay. O, Sir, it shall not cost you a penny.
Io. Where be your Fiddles?
3Fay. You shall haue most daintie Instruments, Sir.
Mop. I pray you, what might I call you?
1Fay. My name isPenny.
Mop. I am sorry I cannot purse you.
Fris. I pray you sir what might I call you?
2Fay. My name isCricket.[117]
Fris. I would I were a chimney for your sake.
Io. I pray you, you prettie little fellow, whats your name?
3Fay. My name is little, littlePricke.
Io. Little, littlePricke?ô you are a daungerous Fayrie, and fright all little wenches in the country out of their beds. I care not whose hand I were in, so I were out of yours.
1Fay. I do come about the coppesLeaping vpon flowers toppes;Then I get vpon a Flie,Shee carries me aboue the skie,And trip and goe.
2Fay. When a deaw drop falleth downeAnd doth light vpon my crowne,Then I shake my head and skipAnd about I trip.
3Fay. When I feele a girle a sleepeVnderneath her frock I peepe.There to sport, and there I play,Then I byte her like a flea;And about I skip.
Io. I, I thought where I should haue you.
1 Fay. Wilt please you daunce, sir.
Io. Indeed, sir, I cannot handle my legges.
2Fay. O you must needs daunce and sing,Which if you refuse to doeWe will pinch you blacke and blew;And about we goe.
They all daunce in a ring and sing, as followeth.
Round about, round about, in a fine ring a,Thus we daunce, thus we daunce, and thus we sing a:Trip and go, too and fro, ouer this Greene a,All about, in and out, for our braue Queene a.
Round about, round about, in a fine Ring a,Thus we daunce, thus we daunce, and thus we sing a:Trip and go, too and fro, ouer this Greene a,All about, in and out, for our braue Queene a.
We haue daunc't round about in a fine Ring a,We haue daunc't lustily and thus we sing a;All about, in and out, ouer this Greene a,Too and fro, trip and go, to our braue Queene a.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Appollo and three Charites.
1Cha. No, No, greatPhoebus; this your silence tendsTo hide your griefe from knowledge of your friends,Who, if they knew the cause in each respect,Would shewe their utmost skill to cure th'effect:
Ap. Good Ladyes, your conceites in iudgement erre:Because you see me dumpish, you referreThe reason to some secret griefe of mine:But you haue seene me melancholy many a time:Perhaps it is the glowing weather nowThat makes me seeme so ill at ease to you.
1Cha. Fine shifts to cover that you cannot hide!No,Phoebus; by your looks may be discrideSome hid conceit that harbors in your thoughtWhich hath therein some straunge impression wrought,That by the course thereof you seeme to meeAn other man then you were wont to bee.
Ap. No, Ladies; you deceiue yourselues in mee: What likelihood or token do ye see That may perswade it true that you suppose?
2Cha.Appollohence a great suspition growes:—Yeare not so pleasaunt now as earst in companie;Ye walke alone and wander solitarie;The pleasaunt toyes we did frequent sometimeAre worne away and growne out of prime;Your Instrument hath lost his siluer sound,That rang of late through all this grouie ground;Your bowe, wherwith the chace you did frequent,Is closde in case and long hath been unbent.How differ you from thatAppollonowThat whilom sat in shade of Lawrell bowe,And with the warbling of your Iuorie LuteT'alure the Fairies for to daunce about!Or from th'Appollothat with bended boweDid many a sharp and wounding shaft bestoweAmidst the DragonPithonsscalie wings,And forc't his dying blood to spout in springs!Beleeue me,Phebus, who sawe you then and nowWould thinke there were a wondrous change in you.
Ap. Alas, faire dames, to make my sorows plainWould but reuiue an auncient wound again,Which grating presently vpon my mindeDoth leaue a fear of former woes behinde.
3Cha.Phoebus, if you account vs for the sameThat tender thee and loueAppollo'sname,Poure forth to vs the fountaine of your woeFro whence the spring of these your sorows flowe;If we may any way redresse your moneCommaund our best, harme we will do you none.
Ap. Good Ladies, though I hope for no reliefeHe shewe the ground of this my present griefe:This time of yeare, or there about it was,(Accursed be the time, tenne times, alas!)When I fromDelphostooke my iourney downeTo see the games in noble Sparta Towne.There saw I that wherein I gan to ioy,Amilcharssonne, a gallant comely boy(HightHiacinth), full fifteene yeares of age,Whom I intended to haue made my Page;And bare as great affection to the boyAs euerIoueinGanimededid ioy.Among the games my selfe put in a pledge,To trie my strength in throwing of the sledge;Which, poysing with my strained arme, I threwSo farre that it beyond the other flew:MyHiacinth, delighting in the game,Desierd to proue his manhood in the same,And, catching ere the sledge lay still on ground,With violent force aloft it did reboundAgainst his head and battered out his braine;And so alas my louely boy was slaine.
1Cha. Hard hap, OPhoebus; but, sieth it's past & gone, We wish ye to forbeare this frustrate mone.
Ap. Ladies, I knowe my sorrowes are in vaine, And yet from mourning can I not refraine.
1Cha.Euraniasome pleasant song shall sing To put ye from your dumps.
Ap. Alas, no song will bring The least reliefe to my perplexed minde.
2Cha. No,Phoebus? what other pastime shall we finde To make ye merry with?
Ap. Faire dames, I thanke you all;No sport nor pastime can release my thrall.My grief's of course; when it the course hath had,I shall be merrie and no longer sad.
1Cha. What will ye then we doo?
Ap. And please ye, you may goe, And leaue me here to feed vpon my woe.
2Cha. Then, _Phoebus, we can but wish ye wel againe.
[Exeunt Charites.
Ap. I thanke ye, gentle Ladies, for your paine.—OPhoebus, wretched thou, thus art thou faineWith forg'de excuses to conceale thy paine.O,Hyacinth, I suffer not these fitsFor thee, my Boy; no, no, another sitsDeeper then thou in closet of my brest,Whose sight so late hath wrought me this unrest.And yet no Goddesse nor of heauenly kindeShe is, whose beautie thus torments my minde;No Fayrie Nymph that haunts these pleasaunt woods,No Goddesse of the flowres, the fields, nor floods:Yet such an one whom iustly I may callA Nymph as well as any of them all.Eurymine, what heauen affoords thee heere?So may I say, because thou com'st so neere,And neerer far vnto a heauenly shapeThan she of whomIouetriumph't in the Rape.Ile sit me downe and wake my griefe againeTo sing a while in honour of thy name.
Amidst the mountaine Ida groues,WherePariskept his Heard,Before the other Ladies allHe would haue thee prefer'd.Pallas, for all her painting, thanHer face would seeme but pale,ThenIunowould haue blush't for shameAndVenuslooked stale.Eurymine, thy selfe aloneShouldst beare the golden ball;So far would thy most heauenly formeExcell the others all;O happiePhoebus! happie then,Most happie should I beeIf faireEuryminewould pleaseTo ioyne in loue with mee.
Enter Eurymine.
Eu. Although there be such difference in the chaungeTo Hue in Court and desart woods to raunge,Yet in extremes, wherein we cannot chuse,An extreame refuge is not to refuse.Good gentlemen, did any see my heard?I shall not finde them out I am afeard;And yet my maister wayteth with his boweWithin a standeing, for to strike a Doe.You saw them not, your silence makes me doubt;I must goe further till I finde them out.
Ap. What seeke you, prettie mayde?
Eu. Forsooth, my heard of Deere.
Ap. I sawe them lately, but they are not heere.
Eu. I pray, sir, where?
Ap. An houre agoe, or twaine, I sawe them feeding all aboue the plaine.
Eu. So much the more the toile to fetch them in. I thanke you, sir.
Ap. Nay, stay, sweet Nymph, with mee.
Eu. My busines cannot so dispatched bee.
Ap. But pray ye, Maide, it will be verie goodTo take the shade in this vnhaunted wood.This flouring bay, with branches large and great,Will shrowd ye safely from the parching heat.
Eu. Good sir, my busines calls me hence in haste.
Ap. O stay with him who conquered thou hast,With him whose restles thoughts do beat on thee,With him that ioyes thy wished face to see,With him whose ioyes surmount all ioyes aboueIf thou wouldst thinke him worthie of thy loue.
Eu. Why, Sir, would you desire another make, And weare that garland for your mistres sake?
Ap. No, Nymph; although I loue this laurel tree,My fancy ten times more affecteth thee:And, as the bay is alwaies fresh and greene,So shall my loue as fresh to thee be seene.
Eu. Now truly, sir, you offer me great wrong To hold me from my busines here so long.
Ap. O stay, sweet Nymph; with more aduisement viewWhat one he is that for thy grace doth sue.I am not one that haunts on hills or Rocks,I am no shepheard wayting on my flocks,I am no boystrous Satyre, no nor Faune,That am with pleasure of thy beautie drawne:Thou dost not know, God wot, thou dost not knowThe wight whose presence thou disdainest so.
Eu. But I may know, if you wold please to tell.
Ap. My father in the highest heauen doth dwellAnd I am knowne the sonne ofIoueto bee,Whereon the folke ofDelphoshonor mee.By me is knowne what is, what was, and what shall bee;By me are learnde the Rules of harmonie;By me the depth of Phisicks lore is found,And power of Hearbes that grow vpon the ground;And thus, by circumstances maist thou seeThat I amPhoebuswho doth fancie thee.
Eu. No, sir; by these discourses may I seeYou mock me with a forged pedegree.If sonne you bee toIoue, as erst ye said,In making loue vnto a mortall maideYou work dishonour to your deitie.I must be gonne; I thanke ye for your curtesie.
Ap. Alas, abandon not thy Louer so!
Eu. I pray, sir, hartily giue me leaue to goe.
Ap. The way ore growne with shrubs and bushes thick,The sharpened thornes your tender feete will pricke,The brambles round about your traine will lappe,The burs and briers about your skirts will wrappe.
Eu. If,Phoebus, thou ofIouethe ofspring be,Dishonor not thy deitie so muchWith profered force a silly mayd to touch;For doing so, although a god thou bee,The earth and men on earth shall ring thy infamie.
Ap. Hard speech to him that loueth thee so well.
Eu. What know I that?
Ap. I know it and can tell, And feel it, too.
Eu. If that your loue be such As you pretend, so feruent and so much, For proofe thereof graunt me but one request.
Ap. I will, byIouemy father, I protest,Provided first that thy petition beeNot hurtfull to thy selfe, nor harme to mee.For so sometimes didPhaetonmy sonneRequest a thing whereby he was vndone;He lost his life through craving it, and IThrough graunting it lost him, my sonne, thereby.
Eu. Thus,Phoebus, thus it is; if thou be heeThat art pretended in thy pedegree,If sonne thou be toIove, as thou doest fame,And chalengest that tytle not in vaine,Now heer bewray some signe of godhead than,And chaunge me straight from shape of mayd to man.
Ap. Alas! what fond desire doth moue thy mindeTo wish thee altered from thy native kinde,If thou in this thy womans form canst moveNot men but gods to sue and seeke thy love?Content thyselfe with natures bountie than,And covet not to beare the shape of man.And this moreover will I say to thee:Fairer man then mayde thou shalt neuer bee.
Eu. These vaine excuses manifestly showeWhether you usurpAppollosname or no.Sith my demaund so far surmounts your art,Ye ioyne exceptions on the other part.
Ap. Nay, then, my doubtles Deitie to prove,Although thereby for ever I loose my Love,I graunt thy wish: thou art become a man,I speake no more then well perform I can.And, though thou walke in chaunged bodie now,This penance shall be added to thy vowe:Thyself a man shalt love a man in vaine,And, loving, wish to be a maide againe.
Eu.Appollo, whether I love a man or not, I thanke ye: now I will accept my lot; And, sith my chaunge hath disappointed you, Ye are at libertie to love anew. [Exit.
Ap. If ever I love, sith now I am forsaken, Where next I love it shall be better taken. But, what so ere my fate in loving bee, Yet thou maist vaunt thatPhoebusloved thee. [Exit Appollo.
Enter Ioculo, Frisco, and Mopso, at three severall doores.
Mop.Ioculo, whither iettest thou? Hast thou found thy maister?
Io.Mopso, wel met; hast thou found thy mistresse?
Mop. Not I, by Pan.
Io. Nor I, by Pot.
Mop. Pot? what god's that?
Io. The next god to Pan; and such a pot it may be as he shall haue more servants then all the Pannes in a Tinker's shop.
Mop.Frisco, where hast thou beene frisking? hast thou found—
Fris. I haue found,—
Io. What hast thou found,Frisco?
Fris. A couple of crack-roapes.
Io. And I.
Mop. And I.
Fris. I meane you two.
Io. I you two.
Mop. And I you two.
Fris. Come, a trebble conjunction: all three, all three.
(They all imbrace each other)
Mop. ButFrisco, hast not found the faire shepheardesse, thy maister's mistresse?
Fris. Not I, by God,—Priapus, I meane.
Io.Priapus, quoth a? Whatt'in[118] a God might that bee?
Fris. A plaine God, with a good peg to hang a shepheardesse bottle vpon.
Io. Thou, being a Forrester's Boy, shouldst sweare by the God of the woods.
Fris. My Maister sweares bySiluanus; I must sweare by his poore neighbour.
Io. And heer's a shepheard's swaine sweares by a Kitchen God, Pan.
Mop. Pan's the shepheardes God; but thou swearest by Pot: what God's that?
Io. The God of good-fellowship. Well, you haue wicked maisters, that teach such little Boyes to sweare so young.
Fris. Alas, good old great man, wil not your maister swear?
Io. I neuer heard him sweare six sound oaths in all my life.
Mop. May hap he cannot because hee's diseas'd.
Fris. Peace,Mopso. I will stand too't hee's neither brave Courtier, bouncing Cavalier, nor boone Companion if he sweare not some time; for they will sweare, forsweare, and sweare.
Io. How sweare, forsweare, and sweare? how is that?
Fris. They'll sweare at dyce, forsweare their debts, and sweare when they loose their labour in love.
Io. Well, your maisters have much to answer for that bring ye up so wickedly.
Fris. Nay, my maister is damn'd, I'll be sworne, for his verie soule burnes in the firie eye of his faire mistresse.
Io. My maister is neither damnde nor dead, and yet is in the case of both your maisters, like a woodden shepheard and a sheepish woodman; for he is lost in seeking of a lost sheepe and spent in hunting a Doe that hee would faine strike.
Fris. Faith, and I am founderd with slinging to and fro with Chesnuts, Hazel-nuts, Bullaze and wildings[119] for presents from my maister to the faire shepheardesse.
Mop. And I am tierd like a Calf with carrying a Kidde every weeke to the cottage of my maister's sweet Lambkin.
Io. I am not tierd, but so wearie I cannot goe with following a maister that followes his mistresse, that followes her shadow, that followes the sunne, that followes his course.
Fris. That follows the colt, that followed the mare the man rode on to Midleton. Shall I speake a wise word?
Mop. Do, and wee will burne our caps.
Fris. Are not we fooles?
Io. Is that a wise word?
Fris. Giue me leave; are not we fooles to weare our young feete to old stumps, when there dwells a cunning man in a Cave hereby who for a bunch of rootes, a bagge of nuts, or a bushell of crabs will tell us where thou shalt find thy maister, and which of our maisters shall win the wenche's favour?
Io. Bring me to him,Frisco: I'll give him all the poynts at my hose to poynt me right to my maister.
Mop. A bottle of whey shall be his meed if he save me labour for posting with presents.
Enter Aramanthus with his Globe, &c.
Fris. Here he comes: offend him not,Ioculo, for feare he turne thee to a Iacke an apes.
Mop. And thee to an Owle.
Io. And thee to a wood-cocke.
Fris. A wood-cocke an Owle and an Ape.
Mop. A long bill a broade face and no tayle.
Io. Kisse it, Mopso, and be quiet: Ile salute him civilly. Good speed, good man.
Aram. Welcome, bad boy.
Fris. He speakes to thee,Ioculo.
Io. Meaning thee,Frisco.
Aram. I speake and meane not him, nor him, nor thee; But speaking so, I speake and meane all three.
Io. If ye be good at Rimes and Riddles, old man, expound me this:—
These two serve two, those two serve one;Assoyle[120] me this and I am gone.
Aram. You three serve three; those three do seeke to one; One shall her finde; he comes, and she is gone.
Io. This is a wise answer: her going caused his comming; For if she had nere gone he had nere come.
Mop. Good maister wizard, leave these murlemewes and telMopsoplainly whetherGemulomy maister, that gentle shepheard, shall win the love of the faire shepheardesse, his flocke-keeper, or not; and Ile give ye a bottle of as good whey as ere ye laid lips to.
Fris. And good father Fortune-teller, letFriscoknowe whetherSiluiomy maister, that lustie Forrester, shall gaine that same gay shepheardesse or no. Ile promise ye nothing for your paines but a bag full of nuts, and if I bring a crab or two in my pocket take them for advantage.
Io. And gentle maister wise-man, tellIoculoif his noble maisterAscanio, that gallant courtier, shal be found by me, and she found by him for whom he hath lost his father's favour and his owne libertie and I my labour; and Ile give ye thankes, for we courtiers neither giue nor take bribes.
Aram. I take your meaning better then your speech,And I will graunt the thing you doo beseech.But, for the teares of Lovers be no toyes,He tell their chaunce in parables to boyes.
Fris. In what ye will lets heare our maisters' luck.
Aram. Thy maister's Doe shall turne unto a Buck; (To Frisco.)Thy maister's Eawe be chaunged to a Ram; (To Mopso.)Thy maister seeks a maide and findes a man, (To Ioculo.)Yet for his labor shall he gaine his meede;The other two shall sigh to see him speede.
Mop. Then my maister shall not win the shepheardesse?
Aram. No, hast thee home and bid him right his wrong, The shepheardesse will leave his flock ere long.
Mop. Ile run to warne my master of that.[Exit.
Fris. My maister wood-man takes but woodden paines to no purpose, I thinke: what say ye, shall he speed?
Aram. No, tell him so, and bid him tend his Deare And cease to woe: he shall not wed this yeare.
Fris. I am not sorie for it; farewell,Ioculo.[Exit.
Io. I may goe with thee, for I shall speed even so too by staying behinde.
Aram. Better, my Boy, thou shalt thy maister findeAnd he shall finde the partie he requires,And yet not find the summe of his desires.Keep on that way; thy maister walkes before,Whom, when thou findst, loose him good Boy no more.
[Exit ambo.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Ascanio and Ioculo.
Asca. Shall then my travell ever endles prove,That I can heare no tydings of my Love?In neither desart, grove, nor shadie woodNor obscure thicket where my foote hath trod?But every plough-man and rude shepheard swainDoth still reply unto my greater paine?Some Satyre, then, or Godesse of this place,Some water Nymph vouchsafed me so much graceAs by some view, some signe, or other sho,I may haue knowledge if she lives or no.
Eccho. No.
Asca. Then my poore hart is buried too in wo: Record it once more if the truth be so.
Eccho. So.
Asca. How? thatEurymineis dead, or lives?
Eccho. Lives.
Asca. Now, gentle Goddesse, thou redeem'st my soule From death to life: Oh tell me quickly, where?
Eccho. Where?
Asca. In some remote far region or else neere?
Eccho. Neere.
Asca. Oh, what conceales her from my thirstie eyes? Is it restraint or some unknown disguise?
Eccho. Disguise.
Io. Let me be hang'd my Lord, but all is lyes.
Eccho. Lyes.
Io. True we are both perswaded thou doest lye.
Eccho. Thou doest lye.
Io. Who? I?
Eccho. Who? I?
Io. I, thou.
Eccho. I, thou.
Io. Thou dar'st not come and say so to my face.
Eccho. Thy face.
Io. He make you then for ever prating more.
Eccho. More.
Io. Will ye prate more? Ile see that presently.
Asca. Stay,Ioculo, it is the Eccho, Boy,That mocks our griefe and laughes at our annoy.Hard by this grove there is a goodly plaineBetwixt two hils, still fresh with drops of raine,Where never spreading Oake nor Poplar grewMight hinder the prospect or other view,But all the country that about it lyesPresents it selfe vnto our mortall eyes;Save that vpon each hill, by leavie trees,The Sun at highest his scorching heat may leese:There, languishing, my selfe I will betakeAs heaven shal please and only for her sake.
Io. Stay, maister; I have spied the fellow that mocks vs all this while: see where he sits.
Aramanthus sitting.
Asca. The very shape my vision told me off, That I should meet with as I strayed this way.
Io. What lynes he drawes? best go not over farre.
Asca. Let me alone; thou doest but trouble mee.
Io. Youle trouble vs all annon, ye shall see.
Asca. God speed, faire Sir.
Io. My Lord, do ye not mark How the skie thickens and begins to darke?
Asca. Health to ye, Sir.
Io. Nay, then, God be our speed.
Ara. Forgive me, Sir; I sawe ye not indeed.
Asca. Pardon me rather for molesting you.
Io. Such another face I never knew.
Ara. Thus, studious, I am wont to passe the time By true proportion of each line from line.
Io. Oh now I see he was learning to spell: Theres A. B. C. in midst of his table.
Asca. Tell me, I pray ye, sir, may I be bold to crave. The cause of your abode within this cave?
Ara. To tell you that, in this extreme distresse,Were but a tale of Fortunes ficklenesse.Sometime I was a Prince ofLesbosIleAnd liv'd beloved, whilst my good stars did smile;But clowded once with this world's bitter crosseMy joy to grife, my gaine converts to losse.
Asca. Forward, I pray ye; faint not in your tale.
Io. It will not all be worth a cup of Ale.
Ara. A short discourse of that which is too long,How ever pleasing, can never seeme but wrong;Yet would my tragicke story fit the stage:Pleasaunt in youth but wretched in mine age,Blinde fortune setting vp and pulling downe,Abusde by those my selfe raisde to renowne:But that which wrings me neer and wounds my hart,Is a false brothers base vnthankfull part.
Asca. A smal offence comparde with my disease;No doubt ingratitude in time may ceaseAnd be forgot: my grief out lives all howres,Raining on my head continual, haplesse showers.
Ara. You sing of yours and I of mine relate,To every one seemes worst his owne estate.But to proceed: exiled thus by spight,Both country I forgoe and brothers sight,And comming hither, where I thought to live,Yet here I cannot but lament and greeve.
Asca. Some comfort yet in this there doth remaine, That you have found a partner in your paine.
Ara. How are your sorrowes subiect? let me heare.
Asca. More overthrowne and deeper in dispaireThan is the manner of your heavie smart,My carelesse griefe doth ranckle at my hart;And, in a word to heare the summe of all,I love and am beloved, but there-withallThe sweetnesse of that banquet must forgo,Whose pleasant tast is chaungde with bitter wo.
Ara. A conflict but to try your noble minde; As common vnto youth as raine to winde.
Asca. But hence it is that doth me treble wrong, Expected good that is forborne so long Doth loose the vertue which the vse would prove.
Ara. Are you then, sir, despised of your Love?
Asca. No; but deprived of her company,And for my careles negligence thereinAm bound to doo this penaunce for my sin;That, if I never finde where she remaines,I vowe a yeare shal be my end of paines.
Ara. Was she then lost within this forrest here?
Asca. Lost or forlorn, to me she was right deere:And this is certaine; vnto him that couldThe place where she abides to me vnfoldFor ever I would vow my selfe his friend,Never revolting till my life did end.And there fore, sir (as well I know your skill)If you will give me physicke for this illAnd shewe me ifEuryminedo live,It were a recompence for all my paine,And I should thinke my ioyes were full againe.
Ara. They know the want of health that have bene sick:My selfe, sometimes acquainted with the like,Do learne in dutie of a kinde regardTo pittie him whose hap hath bene so hard,How long, I pray ye, hath she absent bene?
Asca. Three days it is since that my Love was seene.
Io. Heer's learning for the nonce that stands on ioynts; For all his cunning Ile scarse give two poynts.
Ara.Mercurio regnante virum, sub-sequente Luna Faeminum designat.
Io. Nay, and you go to Latin, then tis sure my maister shall finde her if he could tell where.
Ara. I cannot tell what reason it should bee,But love and reason here doo disagree:By proofe of learned principles I findeThe manner of your love's against all kinde;And, not to feede ye with uncertaine ioy,Whom you affect so much is but a Boy.
Io. A Riddle for my life, some antick Iest? Did I not tell ye what his cunning was?
Asca. I love a Boy?
Ara. Mine art doth tell me so.
Asca. Adde not a fresh increase vnto my woe.
Ara. I dare avouch, what lately I have saide, The love that troubles you is for no maide.
Asca. As well I might be said to touch the skie,Or darke the horizon with tapestrie,Or walke upon the waters of the sea,As to be haunted with such lunacie.
Ara. If it be false mine Art I will defie.
Asca. Amazed with grief my love is then transform'd.
Io. Maister, be contented; this is leape yeare: Women weare breetches, petticoats are deare; And thats his meaning, on my life it is.
Asca. Oh God, and shal my torments never cease?
Ara. Represse the fury of your troubled minde; Walke here a while, your Lady you may finde.
Io. A Lady and a Boy, this hangs wel together, Like snow in harvest, sun-shine and foule weather.
Enter Eurymine singing.
Eu.Since[121] hope of helpe my froward starres denie,Come, sweetest death, and end my miserie;He left his countrie, I my shape have lost;Deare is the love that hath so dearly cost.
Yet can I boast, thoughPhoebuswere uniust,This shift did serve to barre him from his lust.But who are these alone? I cannot chuseBut blush for shame that anyone should seeEuryminein this disguise to bee.
Asca. It is (is't[122] not?) my loveEurymine.
Eury. Hark, some one hallows: gentlemen, adieu; In this attire I dare not stay their view. [Exit.
Asca. My love, my ioy, my life! By eye, by face, by tongue it should be shee: Oh I, it was my love; Ile after her, And though she passe the eagle in her flight Ile never rest till I have gain'd her sight. [Exit.
Ara. Love carries him and so retains his minde That he forgets how I am left behind. Yet will I follow softly, as I can, In hope to see the fortune of the man. [Exit.
Io. Nay let them go, a Gods name, one by one; With all my heart I am glad to be alone. Here's old[123] transforming! would with all his art He could transform this tree into a tart: See then if I would flinch from hence or no; But, for it is not so, I needs must go. [Exit.
Enter Silvio and Gemulo.
Sil. Is it a bargaineGemuloor not?
Ge. Thou never knew'st me breake my word, I wot, Nor will I now, betide me bale or blis.
Sil. Nor I breake mine: and here her cottage is, Ile call her forth.
Ge. WillSilviobe so rude?
Sil. Never shall we betwixt ourselves conclude Our controversie, for we overweene.
Ge. Not I but thou; for though thou iet'st in greene,As fresh as meadow in a morne of May,And scorn'st the shepheard for he goes in gray.But, Forrester, beleeve it as thy creede,My mistresse mindes my person not my weede.
Sil. So 'twas I thought: because she tends thy sheepeThou thinkst in love of thee she taketh keepe;That is as townish damzels, lend the handBut send the heart to him aloofe doth stande:So dealesEuryminewithSilvio.
Ge. Al be she looke more blithe onGemuloHer heart is in the dyall of her eye, That poynts me hers.
Sil. That shall we quickly trye.Eurymine!
Ge.Erynnis, stop thy throte;Unto thy hound thou hallowst such a note.I thought that shepheards had bene mannerlesse,But wood-men are the ruder groomes I guesse.
Sil. How shall I call her swaine but by her name?
Ge. SoHobinollthe plowman calls his dame. Call her in Carroll from her quiet coate.
Sil. Agreed; but whether shall begin his note?
Ge. Draw cuttes.
Sil. Content; the longest shall begin.
Ge. Tis mine.
Sil. Sing loude, for she is farre within.
Ge. Instruct thy singing in thy forrest waies, Shepheards know how to chant their roundelaies.
Sil. Repeat our bargain ere we sing our song,Least after wrangling should our mistresse wrong:If me she chuse thou must be well content,If thee she chuse I give the like consent.
Ge. Tis done: now,Panpipe, on thy sweetest reede, And as I love so let thy servaunt speede.—
_As little Lambes lift up their snowie sidesWhen mounting Lark salutes the gray eyed morne—
Sil. As from the Oaken leaves the honie glidesWhere nightingales record upon the thorne—
Ge. So rise my thoughts—
Sil. So all my sences cheere—
Ge. When she surveyes my flocks
Sil. And she my Deare.
Ge. Eurymine!
Sil. Eurymine!
Ge. Come foorth—
Sil. Come foorth—
Ge. Come foorth and cheere these plaines—
(And both sing this together when they have sung it single.)
Sil. The wood-mans Love
Ge. And Lady of the Swaynes.
Enter Eurymine_.
Faire Forester and lovely shepheard Swaine,Your Carrolls callEuryminein vaine,For she is gone: her Cottage and her sheepeWith me, her brother, hath she left to keepe,And made me sweare byPan, ere she did go,To see them safely kept forGemulo.
(They both looke straungely upon her, apart each from other.)
Ge. What, hath my Love a new come Lover than?
Sil. What, hath my mistresse got another man?
Ge. This Swayne will rob me ofEurymine.
Sil. This youth hath power to winEurymine.
Ge. This straungers beautie beares away my prize.
Sil. This straunger will bewitch her with his eies.
Ge. It isAdonis.
Sil. It isGanymede.
Ge. My blood is chill.
Sil. My hearte is colde as Leade.
Eu. Faire youthes, you have forgot for what ye came: You seeke your Love, shee's gone.
Ge. The more to blame.
Eu. Not so; my sister had no will to go But that our parents dread commaund was so.
Sil. It is thy sense: thou art not of her kin, But as my Ryvall com'ste my Love to win.
Eu. By greatAppollossacred Deitie,That shepheardesse so neare is Sib[124] to meAs I ne may (for all the world) her wed;For she and I in one selfe wombe were bred.But she is gone, her flocke is left to mee.
Ge. The shepcoat's mine and I will in and see.
Sil. And I.
[Exeunt Silvio and Gemulo.
Eu. Go both, cold comfort shall you finde:My manly shape hath yet a womans minde,Prone to reveale what secret she doth know.God pardon me, I was about to showMy transformation: peace, they come againe.
Enter Silvio and Gemulo.
Sil. Have ye found her?
Ge. No, we looke in vaine.
Eu. I told ye so.
Ge. Yet heare me, new come Swayne.Albe thy seemly feature set no saleBut honest truth vpon thy novell tale,Yet (for this world is full of subtiltee)We wish ye go with vs for companieUnto a wise man wonning[125] in this wood,HightAramanth, whose wit and skill is good,That he may certifie our mazing doubtHow this straunge chaunce and chaunge hath fallen out.
Eu. I am content; have with ye when ye will.
Sil. Even now.
Eu. Hee'le make ye muse if he have any skill.
[Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Ascanio and Eurymine.
Asca.Eurymine, I pray, if thou be shee,Refraine thy haste and doo not flie from mee.The time hath bene my words thou would'st allowAnd am I growne so loathsome to thee now?
Eu.Ascanio, time hath bene, I must confesse,When in thy presence was my happinesse,But now the manner of my miserieHath chaung'd that course that so it cannot be.
Asca. What wrong have I contrived, what iniurieTo alienate thy liking so from mee?If thou be she whom sometime thou didst faine,And bearest not the name of friend in vaine,Let not thy borrowed guise of altred kindeAlter the wonted liking of thy minde,But though in habit of a man thou goestYet be the sameEuryminethou wast.
Eu. How gladly would I be thy Lady still, If earnest vowes might answere to my will.
Asca. And is thy fancie alterd with thy guise?
Eu. My kinde, but not my minde in any wise.
Asca. What though thy habit differ from thy kinde, Thou maiest retain thy wonted loving minde.
Eu. And so I doo.
Asca. Then why art thou so straunge, Or wherefore doth thy plighted fancie chaunge?
Eu.Ascanio, my heart doth honor thee.
Asca. And yet continuest stil so strange to me?
Eu. Not strange, so far as kind will give me leave.
Asca. Unkind that kind that kindnesse doth bereave: Thou saist thou lovest me?
Eu. As a friend his friend, And so I vowe to love thee to the end.
Asca. I wreake not of such love; love me but so As faireEuryminelovedAscanio.
Eu. That love's denide vnto my present kinde.
Asca. In kindely shewes vnkinde I doo thee finde: I see thou art as constant as the winde.
Eu. Doth kinde allow a man to love a man?
Asca. Why, art thou notEurymine?
Eu. I am.
Asca.Euryminemy love?
Eu. The very same.
Asca. And wast thou not a woman then?
Eu. Most true.
Asca. And art thou changed from a woman now?
Eu. Too true.
Asca. These tales my minde perplex. Thou artEurymine?
Eu. In name, but not in sexe.
Asca. What then?
Eu. A man.
Asca. In guise thou art, I see.
Eu. The guise thou seest doth with my kinde agree.
Asca. Before thy flight thou wast a woman tho?
Eu. True,Ascanio.
Asca. And since thou art a man?
Eu. Too true, deare friend.
Asca. Then I have lost a wife.
Eu. But found a friend whose dearest blood and life Shal be as readie as thine owne for thee; In place of wife such friend thou hast of mee.
Enter Ioculo and Aramanthus.
Io. There they are: maister, well overtane,I thought we two should never meete againe:You went so fast that I to follow theeSlipt over hedge and ditch and many a tall tree.
Ara. Well said, my Boy: thou knowest not how to lie.
Io. To lye, Sir? how say you, was it not so?You were at my heeles, though farre off, ye know.For, maister, not to counterfayt with ye now,Hee's as good a footeman as a shackeld sow.
Asca. Good, Sir, y'are welcome: sirrha, hold your prate.
Ara. What speed in that I told to you of late?
Asca. Both good and bad, as doth the sequel prove: For (wretched) I have found and lost my love, If that be lost which I can nere enjoy.
Io. Faith, mistresse, y'are too blame to be so coy The day hath bene—but what is that to mee!— When more familiar with a man you'ld bee.
Ara. I told ye you should finde a man of her, Or else my rule did very strangely erre.
Asca. Father, the triall of your skill I finde: My Love's transformde into another kinde: And so I finde and yet have lost my love.
Io. Ye cannot tell, take her aside and prove.
Asca. But, sweetEurymine, make some reportWhy thou departedst from my father's court,And how this straunge mishap to thee befell:Let me entreat thou wouldst the processe tell.
Eu. To shew how I arrived in this groundWere but renewing of an auncient wound,—Another time that office Ile fulfill;Let it suffice, I came against my will,And wand'ring here, about this forrest side,It was my chaunce of Phoebus to be spide;Whose love, because I chastly did withstand,He thought to offer me a violent hand;But for a present shift, to shun his rape,I wisht myself transformde into this shape,Which he perform'd (God knowes) against his will:And I since then have wayld my fortune still,Not for misliking ought I finde in mee,But for thy sake whose wife I meant to bee.
Asca. Thus have you heard our woful destenie, Which I in heart lament and so doth shee.
Ara. The fittest remedie that I can findeIs this, to ease the torment of your minde:Perswade yourselves the greatApollocanAs easily make a woman of a manAs contrariwise he made a man of her.
Asca. I think no lesse.
Ara. Then humble suite preferre To him; perhaps our prayers may attaine To have her turn'd into her forme againe.
Eu. ButPhoebussuch disdain to me doth beare As hardly we shal win his graunt I feare.
Ara. Then in these verdant fields, al richly dideWith natures gifts andFloraspainted pride,There is a goodly spring whose crystall streames,Beset with myrtles, keepe backePhoebusbeames:There in rich seates all wrought of IvoryThe Graces sit, listening the melodye,The warbling Birds doo from their prettie billesVnite in concord as the brooke distilles,[126]Whose gentle murmure with his buzzing noatesIs as a base unto their hollow throates:Garlands beside they weare upon their browes,Made of all sorts of flowers earth allowes,From whence such fragrant sweet perfumes ariseAs you would sweare that place is Paradise.To them let us repaire with humble hart,And meekly show the manner of your smart:So gratious are they inApolloseiesAs their intreatie quickly may sufficeIn your behalfe. Ile tell them of your statesAnd crave their aides to stand your advocates.
Asca. For ever you shall bind us to you than.
Ara. Come, go with me; Ile doo the best I can.
Io. Is not this hard luck, to wander so long And in the end to finde his wife markt wrong!
Enter Phylander.
Phy. A proper iest as ever I heard tell!In sooth me thinkes the breech becomes her well;And might it not make their husbands feare them[127]Wold all the wives in our town might weare them.Tell me, youth, art a straunger here or no?
Io. Is your commission, sir, to examine me so?
Phy. What, is it thou? now, by my troth, wel met.
Io. By your leave it's well overtaken yet.
Phy. I litle thought I should a found thee here.
Io. Perhaps so, sir.
Phy. I prethee speake: what cheere?
Io. What cheere can here be hopte for in these woods, Except trees, stones, bryars, bushes or buddes?
Phy. My meaning is, I fane would heare thee say How thou doest, man: why, thou tak'st this another way.
Io. Why, then, sir, I doo as well as I may: And, to perswade ye that welcome ye bee, Wilt please ye sir to eate a crab with mee?
Phy. Beleeve me,Ioculo, reasonable hard cheere.
Io.Phylander, tis the best we can get here. But when returne ye to the court againe?
Phy. Shortly, now I have found thee.
Io. To requite your paine Shall I intreat you beare a present from me?
Phy. To whom?
Io. To the Duke.
Phy. What shall it be?
Io. Because Venson so convenient doth not fall, A pecke of Acornes to make merry withal.
Phy. What meanst thou by that?
Io. By my troth, sir, as ye see,Acornes are good enough for such as hee.I wish his honour well, and to doo him good,Would he had eaten all the acorns in the wood.
Phy. Good word,Ioculo, of your Lord and mine.
Io. As may agree with such a churlish swine. How dooes his honor?
Phy. Indifferently well.
Io. I wish him better.
Phy. How?
Io. Vice-gerent in Hell.
Phy. Doest thou wish so for ought that he hath done?
Io. I, for the love he beares unto his sonne.
Phy. Hees growne of late as fatherly and mildeAs ever father was unto his childe,And sent me forth to search the coast aboutIf so my hap might be to finde him out;And ifEuryminealive remaineTo bring them both vnto the Court againe.Where is thy maister?
Io. Walking about the ground.
Phy. Oh that his LoveEuryminewere found.
Io. Why, so she is; come follow me and see; He bring ye strait where they remaining bee.
[Exeunt.
Enter three or foure Muses, Aramanthus, Ascanio,Silvio, and Gemulo.
Asca. Cease your contention forEurymine,Nor word nor vowes can helpe her miserie;But he it is, that did her first transform,Must calme the gloomy rigor of this storme,GreatPhoebuswhose pallace we are neere.Salute him, then, in his celestiall sphere,That with the notes of cheerful harmonieHe may be mov'd to shewe his Deitie.
Sil. But wheresEurymine? have we lost her sight?
As. Poore soule! within a cave, with feare affright,She sits to shunAppollosangry viewUntil she sees what of our prayers ensue,If we can reconcile his love or no,Or that she must continue in her woe.
1Mu. Once have we tried,Ascanio, for thy sake,And once againe we will his power awake,Not doubting but, as he is of heavenly race,At length he will take pitie on her case.Sing therefore, and each partie, from his heart,In this our musicke beare a chearfull part.
All haile, faire Phoebus, in thy purple throne!Vouchsafe the regarding of our deep mone;Hide not, oh hide not, thy comfortable face,But pittie, but pittie, a virgins poore case.
Phoebus appeares.
1Mu. Illustrate bewtie, Chrystall heavens eye,Once more we do entreat thy clemencieThat, as thou art the power of us all,Thou wouldst redeemeEuryminefrom thrall.Graunt, gentle God, graunt this our small request,And, if abilitie in us do rest,Whereby we ever may deserve the same,It shall be seene we reverencePhoebusname.
Phoe. You sacred sisters of faire Helli[c]on,On whom my favours evermore have shone,In this you must have patience with my vow:I cannot graunt what you aspire unto,Nor wast my fault she was transformed so,But her own fond desire, as ye well know.We told her, too, before her vow was pastThat cold repentance would ensue at last;And, sith herselfe did wish the shape of man,She causde the abuse, digest it how she can.
2Mu. Alas, if unto her you be so hard,Yet ofAscaniohave some more regard,And let him not endure such endlesse wrongThat hath pursude her constant love so long.
Asca. Great God, the greevous travells I have pastIn restlesse search to finde her out at last;My plaints, my toiles, in lieu of my annoyHave well deserv'd my Lady to enjoy.Penance too much I have sustaind before;OhPhoebus, plague me not with any more,Nor be thou so extreame now at the worstTo make my torments greater than at the first.My father's late displeasure is forgot,And there's no let nor any churlish blotTo interrupt our ioyes from being compleat,But only thy good favour to intreat.In thy great grace it lyes to make my stateMost happie now or most infortunate.
1Mu. HeavenlyApollo, on our knees I prayVouchsafe thy great displeasure to allay.What honor to thy Godhead will ariseTo plague a silly Lady in this wise?Beside it is a staine unto thy DeitieTo yeeld thine owne desires the soveraigntie:Then shew some grace vnto a wofull Dame,And in these groves our tongues shall sound thy fame.
Phoe. Arise, deare Nourses of divinest skill, You sacred Muses ofPernassushill;Phoebusis conquerd by your deare respect And will no longer clemency neglect. You have not sude nor praide to me in vaine; I graunt your willes: she is a mayde againe.
Asca. Thy praise shal never die whilst I do live.
2Mu. Nor will we slack perpetual thankes to give.
Phoe.Thalia, neare the cave where she remainesThe Fayries keepe: request them of their paines,And in my name bid them forthwith provideFrom that darke place to be the Ladies guide;And in the bountie of their liberall mindeTo give her cloathes according to her kinde.
1Mu. I goe, divineApollo.[Exit.
Phoe. Haste againe: No time too swift to ease a Lovers paine.
Asca. Most sacredPhoebus, endles thankes to theeThat doest vouchsafe so much to pittie mee;And, aged father, for your kindnesse showneImagine not your friendship ill bestowne:The earth shall sooner vanish and decayThan I will prove unthankfull any way.
Ara. It is sufficient recompence to meIf that my silly helpe have pleasurde thee;If you enioy your Love and hearts desireIt is enough, nor doo I more require.
Phoe. GraveAramanthus, now I see thy face,I call to minde how tedious a long spaceThou hast frequented these sad desarts here;Thy time imployed in heedful minde I bear,The patient sufferance of thy former wrong,Thy poore estate and sharpe exile so long,The honourable port thou bor'st some timeTill wrongd thou wast with undeserved crimeBy them whom thou to honour didst advaunce:The memory of which thy heavy chaunceProvokes my minde to take remorse on thee.Father, henceforth my clyent shalt thou beeAnd passe the remnant of thy fleeting timeWith Lawrell wreath among the Muses nine;And, when thy age hath given place to fate,Thou shalt exchange thy former mortall stateAnd after death a palme of fame shalt weare,Amongst the rest that live in honor here.And, lastly, know that faireEurymine,Redeemed now from former miserie,Thy daughter is, whom I for that intentDid hide from thee in this thy banishmentThat so she might the greater scourge sustaineIn puttingPhoebusto so great a paine.But freely now enioy each others sight:No moreEurymine: abandon quiteThat borrowed name, asAtlantashe is calde.—And here's the[128] woman, in her right shape instalde.
Asca. Is then my Love deriv'de of noble race?
Phoe. No more of that; but mutually imbrace.
Ara. Lives myAtlantawhom the rough seas wave I thought had brought unto a timelesse grave?