Classic Poem

ACT. III. SCEN. I.

Charinus , the father of Thirsis. Palaemon .

P A laemon , you me thinkes might something worke
With Thirsis my aggrieued sonne, and sound
His humour what it is: and why he thus
Afflicts himselfe in solitarinesse.
You two were wont to be most inward friends,
And glad I was to see it; knowing you
To be a man well tempred, fit to sort
With his raw youth; can you do nothing now,
To win him from this vile captiuity
Of passion, that withholdes his from the world?
Pal. In troth, Charinus , I haue oftentimes,
As one that suffred for his grieuances,
Assayd to finde a way into the cause
Of his so strange dismay; and by all meanes
Aduis'd him make redemption of himselfe,
And come to life againe, and be a man
With men: but all serues not, I finde him lockt
Fast to his will, alleadge I what I can.
Char. But will he not impart to you the cause?
Pal. The cause is loue; but it is such a loue,
As is not to be had.
Cha. Not to be had?
Palaemon , if his loue be regular,
Is there in all Arcadia any she,
Whom his ability, his shape, and worth
May not attaine, he being my onely sonne?
Pal. She is not in Arcadia whom he loues,
Nor in the world, and yet he deerely loues.
Cha. How may that be, Palaemon ? tell me plaine.
Pal. Thus plainly; he's in loue with a dead woman,
And that so farre, as with the thought of her
Which hath shut out all other, he alone
Liues, and abhorres to be, or seene, or knowne.
Cha. What was this creature could possesse him so?
Pal. Faire Siluia , old Medorus daughter, who
Was two yeares past reported to be slaine
By sauage beasts vpon our Country shore.
Cha. Is that his griefe? alas, I rather thought
It appertain'd vnto anothers part
To wayle her death: Alexis should doe that,
To whom her father had disposed her,
And she esteemed onely to be his.
Why should my sonne afflict him more for her,
Then doth Alexis , who this day doth wed
Faire Galatea , and forgets the dead?
And here the shepheards come to celebrate
His ioyfull nuptials with all merriment;
Which doth increase my cares, considering
The comforts other parents do receiue:
And therefore good Palaemon worke all meanes
You can to win him from his peeuish will,
And draw him to these shewes, to companies,
That others pleasures may inkindle his;
And tell him what a sinne he doth commit,
To waste his youth in solitarinesse,
And take a course to end vs all in him.
Pal. Assure your selfe Charinus , as I haue
So will I still imploy my vtmost powre,
To saue him; for me thinkes it pitty were,
So rare a peece of worth should so be lost,
That ought to be preserued at any cost.

ACT. III. SCEN. II.

Charinus. Medorus.

M E dorus come, we two must sit, and mourne
Whilst others reuell. We are not for sports,
Or nuptiall shewes, which will but shew vs more
Our miseries, in being both depriu'd
The comforts of our issue; which might haue
(And was as like to haue) made our hearts
As ioyfull now, as others are in theirs.
Med . Indeed Charinus , I for my part haue
Iust cause to grieue amidst these festiuals,
For they should haue beene mine. This day I should
Haue seene my daughter Siluia how she would
Haue womand it; these rites had beene her grace,
And she had sat in Galateas place.
And now had warm'd my heart to see my blood
Preseru'd in her; had she not beene so rapt
And rent from off the liuing as she was.
But your case is not paralell with mine;
You haue a sonne, Charinus , that doth liue,
And may one day to you like comforts giue.
Cha . Indeed I haue a sonne; but yet to say he liues,
I cannot; for who liues not to the world,
Nor to himselfe, cannot be sayd to liue
For euer since that you your daughter lost,
I lost my sonne: for from that day he hath
Imbrak'd in shades and solitarinesse,
Shut him selfe vp from light or company
Of any liuing: and as now I heard
By good Palaemon , vowes still so to doe.
Med . And did your sonne, my daughter loue so deare?
Now good Charinus , I must grieue the more,
If more my heart could suffer then it doth;
For now I feele the horrour of my deede,
In hauing crost the worthiest match on earth.
Now I perceiue why Siluia did refuse
To marry with Alexis , hauing made
A worthier choice; which oh had I had grace
To haue foreseene, perhaps this dismall chance
Neuer had beene, and now they both had had
Ioy of their loues, and we the like of them.
But ah my greedy eye, viewing the large
And spacious sheep-walkes ioyning vnto mine,
Whereof Alexis was possest, made me,
As worldlings doe, desire to marry grounds,
And not affections, which haue other bounds.
How oft haue I with threats, with promises,
With all perswasions, sought to win her minde
To fancy him, yet all would not preuaile!
How oft hath she againe vpon her knees
With teares besought me; Oh deare father mine
Doe not inforce me to accept a man
I cannot fancy: rather take from me,
The life you gaue me, then afflict it so.
Yet all this would not alter mine intent,
This was the man she must affect or none.
But ah what sinne was this to torture so
A heart forevow'd vnto a better choice,
Where goodnesse met in one the selfe same point,
And vertues answer'd in an equall ioynt?
Sure, sure, Charinus , for this sinne of mine
The gods bereaft me of my child, and would
Not haue her be, to be without her heart,
Nor me take ioy where I did none impart.
Cha. Medorus , thus we see mans wretchednesse
That learnes his errours but by their successe,
And when there is no remedie; and now
VVe can but wish it had beene otherwise.
Med . And in that wish Charinus we are rackt;
But I remember now I often haue
Had shadowes in my sleepe that figures bare
Of some such liking twixt your childe and mine.
And this last night a pleasing dreame I had
(Though dreames of ioy makes wakers minds more sad)
Me thought my daughter Siluia was return'd
In most strange fashion, and vpon her knees
Craues my good will for Thirsis , otherwise
She would be gone againe and seene no more.
I at the sight of my deare childe, was rapt
VVith that excesse of ioy, as gaue no time
Either for me to answere her request,
Or leaue for sleepe to figure out the rest.
Cha . Alas Medorus , dreames are vapours, which
Ingendred with day thoughts, fall in the night
And vanish with the morning; are but made
Afflictions vnto man, to th'end he might
Not rest in rest, but toile both day and night.
But see here comes my solitarie sonne:
Let vs stand close Medorus out of sight,
And note how he behaues himselfe in this
Affliction, and distressed case of his.

SCEN. III

Thirsis solus.

T H is is the day, the day, the lamentable day
Of my destruction, which the Sun hath twice
Returnd vnto my griefes, which keepe one course
Continually with it in motion like,
But that they neuer set: this day doth claime
Th'especiall tribute of my sighes and teares;
Though, euery day I duely pay my teares
Vnto that soule which this day left the world.
And yet I know not why? me thought the Sun
Arose this day with farre more cheerefull raies,
With brighter beames, then vsually it did,
As if it would bring something of release
Vnto my cares, or else my spirit hath had
Some manner of intelligence with hope,
Wherewith my heart is vnacquainted yet:
And that might cause mine eie with quicker sence,
To note th'appearing of the eie of heauen;
But something sure I feele which doth beare vp
The weight of sorrow easier then before.

SCEN. IV.

Palaemon. Thirsis.

VV H at Thirsis still in passion? still one man?
For shame shew not your selfe so weakely set,
So feebly ioynted, that you cannot beare
The fortunes of the world like other men.
Beleeue me Thirsis you much wrong your worth:
This is to be no man, to haue no powers.
Passions are womens parts, actions ours;
I was in hope t'haue found you otherwise.
Thir . How? otherwise Palaemon ? do not you
Hold it to be a most heroicke thing
To act one man, and do that part exact?
Can there be in the world more worthinesse
Then to be constant? is there any thing
Shewes more a man? What, would you haue me change?
That were to haue me base, that were indeed
To shew a feeble heart, and weakely set.
No no Palaemon , I should thinke my selfe
The most vnworthy man of men, should I
But let a thought into this heart of mine
That might disturbe or shake my constancy.
And thinke Palaemon I haue combates too,
To be the man I am, being built of flesh,
And hauing round about me traytors too
That seeke to vndermine my powres, and steale
Into my weakenesses, but that I keepe
Continuall watch and ward vpon my selfe,
Least I should be surpriz'd at vnawares
And taken from my vowes with other snares.
And euen now at this instant I confesse,
Palaemon , I doe feele a certaine touch
Of comfort, which I feare to entertaine;
Least it should be some spie, sent as a traine
To make discouery of what strength I am.
Pal . Ah worthy Thirsis , entertaine that spirit
What euer else thou doe: set all the doores
Of thine affections open thereunto.
Thir. Palaemon no. Comfort and I haue beene
So long time strangers, as that now I feare
To let it in, I know not how t'acquaint
My selfe therewith, being vsed to conuerse
With other humours, that affect me best.
Nor doe I loue to haue mixt company
VVhereto I must of force my selfe apply.
Pal . But Thirsis thinke that this must haue an end,
And more it would approoue your worth to make
The same your worke, then time should make it his.
Thir . End sure it must Palaemon , but with me:
For so I by the Oracle was told
That very day wherein I lost the day
And light of comfort that can neuer rise
Againe to me: when I the saddest man
That euer breath'd before those Altars fell,
And there besought to know what was become
Of my deare Siluia , whether dead, or how
Reaft from the world: but that I could not learne.
Yet thus much did that voice diuine returne:
Goe youth, reserue thy selfe, the day will come
Thou shalt be happy, and returne againe.
But when shall be the day demanded I:
The day thou dyest, replide the Oracle.
So that you see, it will not be in these
But in th'Elizian fields, where I shall ioy:
The day of death must bring me happinesse.
Pal . You may mistake the meaning of those words
Which is not knowne before it be fulfill'd.
Yeeld you to what the gods command, if not
Vnto your friends desires: reserue your selfe
For better dayes, and thinke the Oracle
Is not vntrue, although not vnderstood.
But howsoeuer, let it not be said
That Thirsis being a man of so rare parts,
So vnderstanding and discreete, should pine in loue
And languish for a silly woman thus:
To be the fable of the vulgar, made
A scorne, and laught at, by inferiour wits.
Thir. In loue Palaemon ? know you what you say?
Doe you esteeme it light to be in loue?
How haue I beene mistaken in the choice
Of such a friend, as I held you to be,
That seemes not, or else doth not vnderstand
The noblest portion of humanity,
The worthiest peece of nature set in man?
Ah know that when you mention loue, you name
A sacred mistery, a Deity,
Not vnderstood of creatures built of mudde,
But of the purest and refined clay
Whereto th'eternall fires their spirits conuey.
And for a woman, which you prize so low,
Like men that doe forget whence they are men;
Know her to be th'especiall creature, made
By the Creator as the complement
Of this great Architect the world; to hold
The same together, which would otherwise
Fall all asunder: and is natures chiefe
Vicegerent vpon earth, supplies her state.
And doe you hold it weakenesse then to loue?
And loue so excellent a miracle
As is a woman! ah then let mee
Still be so weake, still let me loue and pine
In contemplation of that cleane, cleare soule,
That made mine see that nothing in the world
Is so supreamely beautifull as it.
Thinke not it was those colours white and red
Laid but on flesh, that could affect me so.
But something else, which thought holds vnder locke
And hath no key of words to open it.
They are the smallest peeces of the minde
That passe this narrow organ of the voyce.
The great remaine behinde in that vast orbe
Of th'apprehension, and are neuer borne.
And therefore if your iudgement cannot reach
Vnto the vnderstanding of my Case,
You doe not well to put your selfe into
My Iury, to condemne me as you doe.
Let th'ignorant out of their dulnesse laugh
At these my sufferings, I will pitty them
To haue beene so ill borne, so miscompos'd
As not to know vvhat thing it is to loue.
And I to great Apollo here appeale
The soueraigne of the Muses, and of all
Well tun'd affections, and to Cinthia bright,
And glorious Lady of cleere faithfulnesse;
Who from aboue looke down with blisfull beames
Vpon our humble groues, and ioy the hearts
Of all the world, to see their mutuall loues;
They can iudge what worthinesse there is
In worthy loue. Therefore Palaemon peace,
Vnlesse you did know better what it were.
And this be sure, when as that fire goes out
In man, he is the miserablest thing
On earth, his day-light sets, and is all darke
And dull within; no motions of delight,
But all opprest, lies struggling with the weight
Of worldly cares: and this olde Damon saies,
Who well had felt what loue was in his daies.
Pal. Well Thirsis , well, how euer you do guilde
Your passions, to indeere them to your selfe,
You neuer shall induce me to beleeue,
That sicknesses can be of such effect:
And so farewell, vntill you shall be well.

SCEN. V.

Medorus. Charinus.

O Gods, Charinus , what a man is this?
Who euer heard of such a constancy?
Had I but knowne him in enioying him,
As now I doe, too late in loosing him,
How blest had beene mine age! but ah I was
Vnworthy of so great a blessednesse.
Cha. You see, Medorus , how no counsell can
Preuaile to turne the current of his will,
To make it run in any other course
Then what it doth; so that I see I must
Esteeme him irreuocably lost.
But harke, the shepheards festiuals begin,
Let vs from hence, where sadnesse were a sin.

Here was presented a rurall marriage, conducted with this Song.

From the Temple to the Boord,
From the Boord vnto the Bed,
We conduct your maidenhead:
Wishing Hymen to affoord
All the pleasures that he can,
Twixt a woman and a man.