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A11205
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The shepheards holy-day A pastorall tragi-comædie. Acted before both their Maiesties at White-Hall, by the Queenes Servants. With an elegie on the death of the most noble lady, the Lady Venetia Digby. Written by J.R.
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J. R. (Joseph Rutter), fl. 1635-1640.
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1635
(1635)
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STC 21470; ESTC S116288
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43,725
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112
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Farewell what shepheard 's that lies on the ground Is it not Hylas Do. Yes it is he Nerina Ne. Alas poore shepheard t is my greatest griefe That I have grieved him I would beg life For nothing but to make him satisfaction Mi. Hylas what on the ground looke up and speake Alas he 's dead Ne. It cannot be good father Let me goe to him and but touch his eare It may be that my voice may have more vertue Cha. Do what thou wilt sweete heart see my poore child How charitable she is being halfe dead Her selfe she pities others Ni. Marke her finenesse Now at the brimm of death she kisses him And tooke this way to mock her simple father O fine invention sure a womans wit Does never faile her Ne. Hylas Hylas speake Nerina calls thee speake to thy Nerina Mi. What cannot love doe It revives the dead He 's come to himselfe againe Hy. What God is it That has the power to returne my soule From the Elysian fields Mi. It is no God A Goddesse rather Hylas 'T is Nerina Looke where she is Hy. Ah then I do not wonder I cannot die when my best soule comes to me Shall wee live ever thus Ne. How faine I would Forthy sake Hylas but it cannot be I feele a heavy sleepe sit on my head And my strength failes me helpe me sweet Dorinda Farewell for ever oh I die I die Hy. And must I then be call'd to life againe To see my life expire before my face You Fates if you will take a ransome for her Then take my life but you are sure of that You le say already for in her one death Two lives are forfeit Nerina gentle Nymph The cause why now I live open these eyes Once more and I shall flourish like those plants The sunne gives life to else I fall and wither Leaving behinde naught but a worthlesse stemme Speake to thy Hylas sweete Nerina speake Cha. Ay me my daughter hadst thou liv'd perhaps I might have seene thee married to Daphnis Now we must see thee buried Ay me Ne. Hylas Hy. She lives give me some more of that That water there see now she comes againe O gentle destinies but spare this thred And cut a thousand courser speake Nerina Give me some comfort give thy father some Or else behold three lives fall in thy death Ne. You Fates that keepe th' accompt of all our daies Adde but one minute to my life that I May quit my soule of those two heavy burthens Which now oppresse it Dry your eyes good father Remember that the Gods doe send us nothing But for our good and if my journey be Shorter then yours the lesse will be my trouble Will you forgive me father that I have not Paid so much duty to you as I ow'd you Take my good will I pray insteed of it Cha. See her good Nature I childe 't is enough Thou alwaies wert obedient Ne. Shall I dare To speake my thoughts and so discharge my soule Of one loade yet Cha. I doe my childe speake freely Ne. I 've heard you say that no sinne was so heavy As is ingratitude Cha. 'T is true Nerina How she remembers what her father said Ne. Then be not angry if I now must tell you That this poore shepheard whose swolne eyes you see Cover'd with teares for many yeares now past Has courted me but still with such a love So full of truth and gentle services That should I not requite him with my love I should be guilty of ingratitude Therefore before I die spray give leave That he may have my dying heart which living I still debar'd him of Hylas thy hand O stay a little death here take thou mine And since I cannot live the wife of Hylas Yet let me die so Sir are you content Cha. I am with any thing that pleaseth thee Ne. Tell me are you so Hylas Hy. O my love Aske me if I would live amongst the Gods But aske not this Sir have we your consent Cha. You have it is in vaine now to denie it You see Dorinda what her vow 's come to Ne. Then let me die take me into thy Armes Sweet love you 'le see my coffin strew'd with flowers And you Dorinda will you make a garland I die a virgine though I die his wife Do. Alas she 's gon Hy. She 's dead and do I live Cha. Looke to the shepheard there oh my Nerina Do. Vexe not her soule I pray with often calling You see she 's dead Cha. Then there is no hope left Pray helpe us shepheards now to beare her hence You 'le come I hope to see her in her grave ACT. 4. SCENA 1. Thyrsis Delia HEre I am come unto a place where griefe They say has no abode In Princes Courts I 've heard there is no roome for loves laments For either they enjoy or else forget Thrice happy men to whom love gives such leave It may be that this place or people may Worke so with me and melt this frozen heart Ah foole that canst beleeve the change of place Or ayre can change thy minde the love thou bearst Is woven so within thy thoughts that as Out of this piece thy Sylvia wrought for thee Thou canst not take her name forth but withall Thou must deface the whole so Thyrsis thinke The winde that here may rise or heat or raine Thou maist auoide thy love will still remaine And when thou diest then may it die with thee Till then resolve to endure thy misery Del. This is the garden which I saw him go to And that is he for all the markes she gave me To know him by he beares Thy. A heavinesse Weighs downe my head and would invite me to Repose my selfe I le take the offer here I le rest awhile for I have need of it Del. How if I be deceiv'd and this should proove Another man what then I can excuse it He 's layd already and I feare asleepe I le stay untill he wake but then suppose That any body come and take me here What will they thinke of me Best wake him shepheard It is a hansome youth see what a grace Shewes it selfe in his feature such a face Might take the heart of any Lady living I though she were a Princesse shepheard what Not yet his sleepes are sound Thy. Ah Sylvia Preserve thy life oh let me die Alas I do but dreame me thought I saw my selfe Condemn'd to die and Sylvia to save me Offerd her selfe and would needs die for me 'T was a sweet shadow let me court this dreame Del. He must not sleepe againe shepheard looke up Thy. Who envies me this small repose indeed I do not often sleepe ha who are you Del. Sent to thee from thy Sylvia shepheard rise And follow me Thy. Doe I dreame still what are you Came you from heaven where my Sylvia is And must I thither whoso ere you are An Angell or a feind in such a name You come as
cruell fate Angry with men that gave us hearts alike And fortunes so asunder you 're a Cedar I a poore shrub that may looke up unto you With adoration but ne're reach your height Syl. But Thyrsis I do love you love and death Do not much differ they make all things equall The Monuments of Kings may shew for them What they have bin but looke upon their dust The color and the weight of theirs and beggers You 'le finde the same and if 'mongst living men Nature has printed in the face of many The characters of noblenesse and worth Whose fortune envies them a worthy place In birth or honor When the greatest men Whom she has courted beare the marks of slaves Love sure will looke on those and lay aside The Accidents of wealth and noble blood And in our thoughts wil equall them with Kings Thy. 'T is true divinest Lady that the soules Of all men are alike of the same substance By the same maker into all infus'd But yet the severall matters which they worke on How different they are I neede not tell you And as these outward Organs give our soules Or more or lesse roome as they are contriv'd To shew their lustre so againe comes fortune And darkens them to whom the Gods have given A soule divine and body capable Of that divinity and excellence But 't is the order of the Fates whose causes We must not looke into But you deare Madam Nature and fortune have conspir'd to make The happiest alive Syl. Ay me most wretched What pleasure can there be in highest state Which is so crost in love the greatest good The Gods can tell how to bestow on men Thy. Yet some do reckon it the greatest ill A passion of the minde form'd in the fancy And bred to be the worst disease of reason Syl. They that thinke so are such as love excludes Men full of age or foule deformitie No Thyrsis let not us prophane that deity Love is divine the seed of every thing The cause why now we live and all the world Thy. Love is divine for if religion Binds us to love the Gods who never yet Reveald themselves in any thing to us But their bright Images the fairest creatures Who are our daily objects loving them Wee exercise religion let us not Be scrupulous or feare the Gods have care Of us and of our piety Syl. But take heed We cannot be too warie many things Oppose our wills yet if you thinke it fit And this nights silence will so favour us Wee le goe together if we quit this Countrie It is no matter all the world to me Will be Arcadia if I may injoy Thy company my love Thy. No Sylvia Pardon mee deare if still I call you so Enjoy your fortunes thinke how much your honor Must suffer in this act For me I finde It is enough that I have ever lov'd you Now let me at the light of your bright eie Burne like the bird whose fires renew her nest I shall leave you behind me to the world The Phenix of true love and constancy Nor is that bird more glorious in her flames Then I shall be in mine though they consume me Syl. It must not be for know my dearest shepheard I shall not tell one minute after thee I finde my soule so linkt to thine that death Cannot divide us Thy. What then shall we do Shall we resolve to live thus till we gaze Our eies out first and then lose all our senses In their succession shall we strive to leave Our soules breath'd forth upon each others lips Come let us practise this our envious Fates Cannot deny us Cleander enters Cle. What a sight were this To meete her father This would make him mad Indeed and execute his rage himselfe Madam your father 's here Syl. Ha Delia Cleander is it thou then I 'me betraid The second time but must thy fortune make thee The instrument of my undoing still Cla. Shepheard I will not honor thee so much As to enquire thy name thou hast don that Thou wilt pay deare for And I hope thy death Will take away the blot of this disgrace Th' hast laid upon the Princesse Thy. If you do this You le make me happy it was this I lookt for My triviall acts of life this of my death Will recompence with glory I shall die To save my Princesse and what 's more to save The life of her life her unspotted honor Blest Lady though you are as innocent And chaste as purest Virgins that have yet Seene nothing in a dreame to warme their blood Yet the malicious world the censuring people That haste to cast durt on the fairest things Will hardly spare you if it once be knowne That we were here together As for me My life is nothing but variety Of griefe and troubles which with constancy I have borne yet t is time that now I die Before I do accuse the Gods that have Brought me to this and so pull on my death A punishment Will you be mercifull And end me quickly Cle. Shepheard know for this Thy resolution which in noble bloods I scarce have found I willingly would grant What thou desir'st But somthing must be knowne Before that time either from you or you Syl. I know Cleander it is me you aime at I do confesse this shepheard is my love For his sake I did leave the Court and thee Unworthy as thou art to be his Rivall Cle. Madam my duty bids me speake to you Not as a lover now but as you are My Princesse and the daughter of my King I would not for the world have those desires Which I had then for sure my bolder love Would have transgrest the limits of all duty And would have dar'd to tell you that this shepheard Was not a match for great Arcadias heire Nor yet one fit for my Competitor 'T is not his outward feature which how faire It is I do not question that can make him Noble or wise Whereas my birth deriv'd From ancient Kings and yeares not far unsuiting Those of your owne to these my education To you well knowne perhaps might make me worthy Of being your servant Syl. Canst thou looke on this This piece Cleander and not blush to boast Thy follies thus seeking to take away From his full vertue if but this one act Of his appeare unto the world as know It shall for I le not shame to publish him Though I die for it will it not devoure Thy empty glories and thy puft up nothings And like a grave will burie all thy honors Do take his life and glory in that act But be thou sure in him thou shalt kill two Cle. What meane you madam Syl. Not to live a minute After his death Gle. That all the Gods forbid Syl. No they command it rather that have made Our soules but one Cleander thou wert wont To be more courteous and I do see Some pitie in thee if not for