Classic Poem

Actus Secundus. Scena Tertia. [ Am ]

Now shall I see what Thirsi' has done for me;
And if he have done nothing, ere my woes
Melt me' into nothing, I' le go kill my selfe
Before the proud face of that cruell mayde,
That so delights to see my hearts deepe wound
Made by her murth' ring eyes, as sure it can
Please her no lesse, to see her sad command
Fulfill'd on my owne brest with my owne hand. Thi :

Newes, newes Aminta, happy newes I bring thee;
Cleare then thy browe, and cast thy griefes away. Am
What is't thou sayst Thirsis, what bringst thou me,
Life, or death? new joy, or new miserie? Thi :

I bring thee life and joy, if thou but dare
To goe and meet them; but I tell thee true
Thou must not faint but play the man Aminta. Am

Why against whom should I advance my force? Thi :

Suppose the Nymphe thou lov'st were in a wood
That (wal'de about with mountaines of sharpe briars)
Were full of Tygars, and of greedy Lyons,
Wouldst thou go thither? Am

Yes, more cheerefully,
Then village-lasse to the daunce o' holly dayes. Thi :

Were she ingag'd 'mongst troopes of armed theeves,
Wouldst thou goe thither? Am :

Yes more greedily,
Then runnes the thirstie Hart to the coole streeme. Thi :

O but a harder taske askes greater labour. Am

Why I would passe through the devouring torrents,
When the dissolv' de snowes downe the mountaines raine:
And headlong runne t' ingulph them in the mayne:
Or through the fire; or indeed downe to hell;
If any place a hell may termed bee,
That shall containe so heav'nly a thing as shee.
But pre' thee tell me all. Thi :

Here then. Am :

Say on. Thi :

Silvia' at a Fount, starnak'd, and all alone
Attends thy comming; dare'st thou now goe thither? Am :

Silvia? and all alone? and staies for me? Thi :

Yes all alone, unlesse haply there bee
Daphne': who thou know'st is all in all for thee. Am :

Naked? Thi :

I, naked, but. Am :

But what? ah do not
Mangle me thus. Thir :

Why but she does not knowe
That you should meete her there; though (as I say)
She'll there attend you, do but hast away. Am :

Bitter conclusion; that infects, and poysons
What ever sweet thy former speeches promis'd,
Why with such art
Do'st thou delude me, cruell as thou art?
Is't not enough
Think'st thou for me thus full of griefe to be,
But thou must come to mock my misery? Thi :

Be rul'd by me Aminta, and be happy; Am :

What should I doe? Thi :

Why not let slip that good
That fortune (much thy friend) presents thee with. Am :

The heav'ns forbid that ever I should do
Ought to displease her; nor yet ever did I
The thing that justly merited her frowne;
Unlesse it were my loving her so much;
Which yet if 'twere a fault, was none of mine;
It was her beauties; and by heav'n I vowe
I meane not to begin to' offend her now. Thi :

Why but yet tell me, if 'twere in thy powre
To leave to love her, wouldst thou do't to please her? Am :

No sure; love will not let me say, or thinke,
That ere I' should desist from loving her,
Though 'twere in my owne powre. Thi :

Why an't be so,
In her dispight whether she will or no,
You'ld love her. Am :

No, no, not in spight of her,
But I would love her. Thi :

Yet against her will? am :

Why yes, against her will. Thi :

And wherefore then
Dare you not take of her against her will,
That which (although't erkes thee at first to doo)
In th' end will quite thy paines and please her too. Am :

Thirsis, let love that speakes within my brest
Make answer for me; thou, (through thy long use
Of reas'ning much of love) too suttle art
For me; love tyes my tongue, who tyed my heart. Thi :

Why then thou wilt not goe? AM :

Yes, yes, I'le goe;
But not where you would have me: Thi :

Whether then? Am :

To death; if this be all y'have done for me. Thi :

Is this that I have done then nothing worth?
And do'st thou thinke Daphne would counsaile thee
To goe, unlesse shee saw a little more
Into thy Silvias heart, then thou and I?
Suppose shee has reveal'd her minde to her;
Thinke you shee would abide that any else
Should know't? or know she knew it ere the more?
So that to covet an expresse consent
On her part, thinke you not it were to seeke
What in all reason must offend her most?
Where's this your care then, and desire to please her?
Perhaps shee would that your delight should bee
Your owne theft, not her gift; what skil't I pray,
Whether you have it this, or th' other way? Am :

What certainty' have I that her minde is such? Thi :

See still how sillily you seeke to have
That certainty which must of force displease her;
And which 'bove all things else you should not crave:
But who assures you to the contrary
But that she may meane so as well as not?
Now if shee did, and that you would not goe;
(Since both the doubts and dangers equall be)
Is not a valiant then a base death better?
Th' art mute; th' art overthrowne;
Contesse it then;
Nor doubt but this thy overthrow will bee
Th' occasion of a greater victorie.
Go' we. Am :

Stay. Thi :

Why stay?
Know'st not now swiftly the time runnes away? Am :

Pre' thee lett's thinke first what, and how to doe. Thi :

Wee'll thinke of all things as we goe; but he
That thinkes too much, does little, commonly.
O Love, of whom, and where is taught
This thy so doubtfull Arte, and long
Of loving, that instructs the tounge
At ease to utter ev'ry thought
That the wilde fant'sie doth devize?
Whilst with thy wings above the heav'n it flyes.
The learned Athens taught it not;
Nor was it to Liceus knowne;
Apollo , god of Helicon
For all his knowledge knew it not,
Faint and colde is what he speakes,
Nor from his voice such a fire breakes
As doth thy greatnesse (Love) befitt;
Nor can his witt,
Or thoughts unto the height arise
Of thy profounder misteries;
Thou readest thy owne lesson best
(Great Love ) and onely' art by thy selfe exprest.
Thou of thy grace and bounty daynest
T'instruct th' unlearnedest, and plainest
Men of thousands, how to see
And reade those wondrous things that be
Writ with thine owne hand in an others eyes.
Thou teachest those thou lovest best,
A purer language then the rest,
And with smoth ease to breath their fantasies.
Nay often times, such is thy rare
And most misterious eloquence,
That in a confusd'e broken sence
And halfe words that imperfect are,
And halfe words that imperfect are,
The heart is best reveal'd and seene;
And such perhaps moove more by farr
Then many words that better pollisht beene.
Yea ev'ne Loves silence oft doth more expresse
Then words could doe, the mindes unhappinesse.
( Love ) let others if they please
Turne ore the workes of Socrates ,
And those great volumes of the wise;
While I but reade what's writ in two faire eyes.
Perhaps the penn that higher climes,
Will but halt after the rimes,
That in the rough and uncooth tree
With my rude artlesse hand ingraven bee.