Classic Poem

Actus Primus. Scen: Prima Da :

I'st possible (Silvia) thou canst resolve
To spend the faire houres of thy flowring youth
With such contempt of Venus , and her Sonne;
And hast no more desire to be a mother,
And leave a part of thee (when thou art dead)
Living behinde thee? Change (young fondling) change
Thy minde; and do not leade a life so strange. Sil :

Daphne, let others pleasure take in love,
(If in such thraledome any pleasure bee;)
The life I leade contents me well enough;
To chase the flying Deere over the lawne
With Hounde, or well-aym'de Flight, and while I finde
Shafts in my quiver, and beasts for my pray,
I'le want no sport to passe the time away. Da :

Fine sports no doubt, and sure a goodly life
For silly mindes that never tasted other,
And for that cause alone it pleases thee:
So duller ages heretofore could thinke
Acornes and water the best meate and drinke,
Before the use of corne and wine was founde,
But now th'are onely eate and drunke by beastes;
And hadst thou but once proov'd the thousand part
Of the deare joyes those happy lovers feele,
That truely love, and are belov'd againe,
Thou wouldst with sighes repent thy time mispent,
And onely call a lovers life Content.
And say, O my past springtyde, how in vaine
Spent I thy widowy nights? how many dayes
In fruitlesse lonenesse, which I now bewaile?
Why knew I not loves sweetes have this condition
To bring new joyes with ev'ry repetition?
Change, change thy minde (young silly one) and knowe
Too late repentance is a double woe. Sil :

When I repent the thoughts I carry now,
Or say such words as these thou fayning framest
To sport thy selfe withall; the Flouds shall runne
Backe to their Springs, the Wolfe shall fearing flye
The silly Lambe, and the young Levrett shall
Pursue the speedy Graynound ore the playne,
The Beare shall in the toyling Ocean breede,
And finny Dolphine on the mountaines feede. Da :

I so, just such another peevish thing
Like thee was I, when I was of thy yeares;
So look'd, so pac'de, so goulden trest', so ruddy
My tysing lipp, so in my rising cheeke
The damaske rose was blowne; and I remember
Just such as thine is now, my minde was then,
And ev'ne such silly pastimes as thine be
I likewise usd'e; as with lim'd twiggs to catch.
Unwares the fethred singers in the wood,
Track the Deeres footing, till I had intrapt them
And such like; when a gentle lover woode me,
With such a peevish grace hang downe the head
And blush for scorne I would, as oft thou doe'st;
And that unseemely forme me thought became mee,
Nay ev'ne dislik'd what others lik'de in me,
So much I counted it a fault, and shame
To be desir'de or lov'de of any one;
But what cannot time bring to passe? and what
Cannot a true and faithfull lover do
With importunity, desert and love?
And I confesse plainely the troth to thee
So was I vanquisht; nor with other armes
Then humble suff'rance, sighes, and pitty craving:
But then I soone found in one short nights shade,
What the broade light of many hundred dayes
Could never teach me; then I could recall
My selfe, shake off my blinde simplicitie,
And sighing say, here Cinthia take thy bowe,
Quiver, and horne, for I renounce thy life.
And I hope yet to see another day
Thy wilde thoughts bridled too, and thy hard brest
Yeeld, and growe softer at Aminta's plaints.
Is he not young and fresh, and lovely too?
Does he not love thee dearely', and thee alone?
For though belov'de of many Nymphes, he never
For others love, or thy hate, leaves to love thee.
Nor canst thou thinke him to meane borne for thee;
For (be thou daughter of Cidippe faire,
Whose sire was god of this our noble floud)
Yet is Aminta ould Silvanus heire,
Of the high seed of Pan the Shepherds god.
The sleeke-browd' Amarillis (if ere yet
In any fountaines glasse thou saw'st thy selfe)
Is not a whit lesse lovely then thou art;
Yet all her sweet alurements he rejects,
And madly dotes on thy dispightfull loathings.
Well, but suppose now, (and the heav'ns forbid
It come to more then supposition)
That he falling from thee, his minde remoove,
And cleave to her, that so deserves his love;
What will become of thee then? with what eye
Wilt thou behould him in an others armes
Happily twyn'de, and thy selfe laught to scorne? Sil :

Be it to' Aminta and his loves, as best
Shall like himselfe; I'me at a point for one;
And so he be not mine, be'he whose he list.
But mine he cannot be against my will,
Nor yet though he were mine, would I be his. Da :

Fye, whence grows this thy hate? Sil :

Why from his love. Da :

Too soft a syre to breede so rough a Sonne;
But who ere sawe Tygars of milde Lambes bred,
Or the black Rav'ne hatcht of a silver Dove?
Thou dost but mocke me Silvia, dost thou not? Sil :

I hate his love, that doth my honour hate;
And lov'de him, whilst he sought what I could graunt. Da :

Tis thou offend'st thy selfe; he doth but crave
The same for thee, that he desires to have. Sil :

I pre'thee Daphne either speake no more,
Or somwhat else that I may answer to. Da :

See fondling see
How ill this peevishnesse of youth becomes thee;
Tell me but this yet, if some other lov'de thee,
Is this the welcome thou wouldst give his love? Sil :

Such and worse welcome they deserve, that ar

These theeves of silly maydes virginities,
Which you call lovers, and I enimies. Da :

Is the ramme then to th'ewe an enimy,
The bull to th' hayfer, is the turtle too,
An enemy to' his mate that loves him so?
And is the Spring the season of debate,
That (sweetly smiling) leades to coupling bands
The beast, the fish, the fowle, women and men?
And see'st thou not that ev'ry thing that is,
Breathes now a soveraign ayre of love, and sweetnesse,
Pleasure, and health? behold that Turtle there
With what a wooing murmur he sighes love
To his belov'de; harke of yon Nitingall
That hops from bough to bough,
Singing I love I love; nay more then these,
The speckled Serpent layes his venim by,
And greedy runnes to' imbrace his loved one;
The Tygar loves, and the proud Lion too;
Thou onely savadge more then savadge beasts
Barr'st against love thy more-then-yron brest,
But what speake I of Lions, Tygars, Snakes,
That sensible ar? why all these trees doe love;
See with what amorous and redoubled twinings
The loving Vine her husband faire intangles;
The Beech tree loves the Beech, the Pine the Pine,
The Elme the Elme loves, and the Willows too
A mutuall languish for each other feele.
That Oake that seemes so rough and so impenitrable,
Doth no lesse feele the force of amorous flame;
And hadst thou but the spirit and sence of love,
His hidden language thou wouldst understand.
Wilt thou be lesse and worse then trees and plants,
In being thus an enimy to Love?
Fye silli' one fie; these idle thoughts remoove. Sil :

When I heare trees sighe (as belike they do)
I'le be content to bee a lover too. Da :

Well, mock my words, laugh my advice to scorne,
(Deaffe to Loves sound, and simple as thou art)
But goe thy wayes; be sure the time will come
When thou shalt flye from the now-loved fount
Where thou behold'st and so admyr'st thy selfe;
Fearing to view thy selfe so wrinkled fowle
As age will make thee; but I note not this
To thee above the rest, for though age be
Evill, 'tis so to all as well as thee.
Heard'st thou what Elpine spake this other day,
The rev'rend Elpine to the faire Licoris,
(Licoris whose eyes wrought upon him that
Which his songs should have wrought upon her heart,
If Love could learne but to give each his due)
He tould it (Batto' and Thirsis being by,
Those two learn'd lovers) in Auroras denne,
Over whose doore is writt — hence yee prophane ,
Hye yee farre hence; which words he writt (sayd he)
That in that high pitch sang of loves and armes,
And when he dyed bequeath'd his pipe to him;
There was (he said) lowe in th' infernall lake
A dungeon darke, aye filled with noysom fumes
Breath'd from the furnaces of Acaron,
And there all cruell and ingratefull women
Live in eternall horror, and ar fedd
With onely their owne bootelesse plaints and cryes.
Looke to't betimes, or I am sore afraide
There must a roome be taken up for you,
To quite this cruelty to others usd'e.
And 'twere but justice, that those fumes should drawe
A sea of sorrow from those eyes of thine,
That pitty could ne're make to shed a teare:
Well, runne on thine owne course, and marke the ende. Sil :

But what did then Licoris (pre' thee tell me)
What reply did shee make to Elpine's words? Da :

How curious th'art in other folkes affaires,
And carelesse quite in what concernes thy selfe?
Why, with her eyes Licoris answer'd him. Sil :

How could shee answer only with her eyes? Da :

Yes; her faire eyes wrapt in a sunny smile,
Tould Elpine this; Her heart and we are thine;
More cannot she give, nor must thou desire.
This were alone enough to satisfie
And serve for full reward to a chast lover,
That held her eyes as true as they were faire,
And put entire and harty trust in them. Sil :

But wherfore does not he then trust her eyes? Da :

I'le tell thee; know'st thou not what Thirsis writ
When hurryed so with love, and loves disdaine
He wont to wander all about the woods,
In such a sort, as pitty moov'de, and laughter
Mong'st the young Swaines and Nymphes that gaz'de on him?
Yet writ he nought that laughter did deserve,
Though many things he did, deserv'd no lesse.
He writ it on the barkes of sundry trees,
And as the trees, so grew his verse. Twas this —
Deluding eyes, false mirhors of the heart,
Full well I finde how well yee can deceive:
But what availes, if love inforce my will
To' imbrace your harmes, and dote upon you still? Sil :

Well thus we wast the time in ydle chatt,
And I had halfe forgot, that'tis to day
We did appoint to meet in th' Oaken grove,
To hunt an houre; I pre'thee if thou wilt,
Stay for me till I have in yon fresh fount
Layd off the sweat and dust that yesterday
I soyld me with, in chase of a swift Doe,
That at the length I overtooke, and kill' de. Da :

Ile stay for thee, and perhaps wash me too,
But first I'le home a while, and come againe,
For the daye's younger then it seemes to be.
Goe then, and stay there for me till I come;
And in the meane time, thinke on my advice,
That more imports thee, then the chase, or fount;
And if thou dost not thinke so, thou must know
Thou little know'st; and ought'st thy judgement bowe
To their direction that know more then thou.