Classic Poem

Daphne. Silvia. Chorus. [Da:]

Now may the winde upon his wings beare hence
All ill may happen thee; together with
Th' accursed newes so lately spread of thee.
Thou art alive (the gods be thank'd for't)
And ev'n but now I did beleeve thee dead;
So had Nerina painted to the life
Thy late hap; but I would shee had bin dumbe,
Or some that heard her deafe. Sil:

Indeed I scap'd
So narrowly, as I beleeve she might
Full well suppose me dead. Da:

Suppose she might
Yet not have told it with such certainty.
But tell me pre'thee how thou didst escape
The danger so. Sil:

Why I in following
A Wolfe into the wood, had thickt with him
So farr, till I at length had lost his track;
And as I stood thinking to turne againe
Back as I went, I spide him, and I knew him
By' a shaft that stuck in's head neere to his eare,
Which I not long before had shot at him:
He was accompany'd with many more,
About the body of some beast new slaine;
But what beast 'twas I knew not; the same Wolfe
I thinke knew me so well, that on he made
Towards me with his head besmear'd with bloud.
I bouldly stoud, and bent a Dart at him,
And when I thought his distance fit for me,
I threw, but (whether it was fortunes fault
Or mine) I mist him, as thou know'st I use
Not oft to do; he fiercer then before
Rusheth upon me; and was come so neere,
That I, (my shafts now spent) found it too late
To trust my bowe, and tooke me to my heeles;
Away I ranne; he follow'd me as fast.
See now my hap; a vaile that I had ty'de
My haire withall, was halfe undone, and flew
At the windes pleasure loosely, that at length
'T had wound it selfe about a bough; I felt
That somewhat stay'd me; but the feare I had,
Redoubled so my strength, that though the bough
Did all it could to hold me, I broke loose;
And as I left my vaile behinde, I left
Part of my haire withall; and so had feare
Lent my feete wings, that I out-went the Wolfe,
And came safe from the wood; when turning home
I met thee thus amaz'd, and am no lesse
Amaz'd my selfe to see thee so. Da:

Ay mee
Thou liv'st, 'tis well, would all were well besides. Sil:

What ayl'st thou? pre'thee art thou sory then
That I'm alive? Da:

No; that thou liv'st I'm glad;
But for an others death I must be sad. Sil:

How's this? for whose death? Da:

Why Aminta's death. Sil:

Aminta dead? alas how may that be? Da:

Nay how I cannot tell; nor yet am sure
Of the deede done; but I beleeve it firmly. Sil;

What's this thou tell'st me? alas what might be
Th' occasion of Aminta's death? Da:

Thy death. Sil:

Make me conceive thee. Da:

Ev'n the heavy newes
Of thy death, which he heard, and credited,
Hath brought him to his end, some-way or other. Sil:
Fye, th'art deceiv'd; and this thy thought will be
As vaine as was the newes thou heardst of me;
For surely no man will dye willingly. Da:

O Silv'ia Silvia, thou dost not feele
Nor know what' loves flame can do, in a brest
That is a brest of flesh, and not of flint
As thine is; for didst thou but know't, I know
Thou wouldst have loved him that lov'd thee more
Then both his eyes; more then his breath and life;
I do beleeve it, nay I've seene, and know it.
I saw, I saw him when thou fledst from him
(Unkinde and cruell as thou wert) when he,
Ev'n then when thou shouldst rather have imbrac'd
Then scorn'd him so, against his breast had bent
His Dart, with full intent to kill himselfe:
Nor any whit repented of the deede,
When (stay'd by me from farther wounding him)
The sharpe steele had his garment and his skinne
Dyed in his bloud, and had pierc'd through that heart
That loyall heart of his, that thou before
Hadst wounded worse, had not I held his hand,
And sav'd him all I could: but O alas
That slight wound serv'd but as a triall only
And small proofe of his desp'rate constancie;
And but to teach the fatall steele, to do
The black deede it was preappointed to. Sil:

Ay mee what's this thou tell'st me? Da:

But at last
When the newes came that thou wert dead, I saw him
Sound at the hearing on't, and dye away;
And came no sooner to himselfe againe,
But furiously he flings away amayne;
And sure I feare, alas, too sure 'twill proove
H' as kill'd himselfe;
Such was his too much griefe, and too much love. Sil:
But hold'st thou this for certaine? Da:

Tis too true. Sil:

Ay me why didst thou not straite follow him?
And stay him? ah let's seeke, let's finde him out;
Since from my death, his deaths desire is bredd,
He must live still because I am not dead. Da:

Alas I follow'd him, but he had soone
So farre outrunne me, as I now despaire
That we shall finde him having lost his footing. Sil:

We must alas we must inquire him out
Some way or other speedily, least he
Thorough our slownesse his owne murdrer be. Da:

Belike then (Cruell) th'art but griev'd he should
Take from thee th'honour of this goodly deede?
And would'st thy selfe be the brave murdresse?
Must no hand else but thine, an Actor be
In th' execution of this Tragedy?
Well, set thy heart at rest; for howsoe're
He dyes, thou art his art his onely murderer. Sil:

Ah thou dost wound me; and thy ev'ry word
Addes to the agony'e of my bleeding brest,
Strooke through with feare of him, and with the bitter
Remembrance of the savadge cruelty
In me, which I called honesty', and so 'twas,
But too severe it was, and rigorous;
I finde it now, alas I now repent it. Da:

What's this? what do I heare?
Why thou art pitttifull then, and thy heart
Seemes to have feeling of an others harmes;
What doe I see?
Why thou do'st weepe too; I'm amaz'd at this?
Whence ar these teares? Is't love that causes them? Sil:

'Tis pitty, 'tis compassion causes them. Da:

Compassion is the messenger of love,
As is the lightning of the thunder clap. Cho:

'Tis often times the property of love
When he would creepe unseene into young hearts
Which austere Chastity hath long time shut
And barr'd against him, to assume the habit
And semblance of his handmayd Pity", and so
Deceives them ere they be aware, and gets
Into their brests unknowne and undiscry'de. Da:

These ar love-teares (Silvia) they flow so fast;
Do'st thou not love indeede? ha? not a word?
Yes, 'tis too true, but alas 'tis too late.
Behold the strange wayes of Loves chastisement;
Wretched Aminta, thou that (like the Bee,
Which hurting dyes, and in an others wound
Leaves his owne life,) hast with thy death, at last
Pierc'd that hard heart, which living felt thee not.
But if, O erring Spirit, (as I feare
Thou art, and sever'd from thy empty corse)
Thou wandrest here abouts; behold her playnts;
Living thou lov'dst her, see shee loves thee dead.
And if thy cruell fate would have it so,
That thy love could not be repay'd till now,
And that her love was onely to be purchas'd
By thee at this deare price; let it suffice thee
(Where more thou canst not have) that thou hast bought it
As dearely now, as shee could rate it thee;
Even with thy death. Cha:

Deare bargaine for the buyer;
And all unprofitable, and infamous
Unto the cruell seller. Sil:

O that I
Could with my love redeeme his life againe,
Or with my life his life, if he live not. Da:

O pitty, O discretion, too late bredd;
Little availe they to revive the dead.