Selected quad for the lemma: truth_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A34847
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Acteon & Diana with a pastoral storie of the nimph Oenone followed by the several conceited humours of Bumpkin the huntsman, Hobbinal the shepherd, Singing Simpkin, and John Swabber the seaman / by Rob. Cox, acted at the Red Bull with great applause.
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Cox, Robert, d. 1655.
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1656
(1656)
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Wing C6711; ESTC R693
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26,711
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62
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will this Text approve There 's charity in all things but in love Dor. That day the storm fell to be true you swore Clo. When the sun shin'd agen you vowd much more Dor. Those faithfull vows I made were by yourself betraid For I have learn'd to know it is my due To be no constanter in love then you Chorus Then jealousies be gone and keep my sheep Lest that the Wolf should make their number small But of my love nothing command shall keep But Cloris will and Cloris will is all Enter Amintas and Dorilas Amint. Shepheard thy love is most unnatural For Nature does command friendships observance But by the fond desires thy heart is fild with Thou prov'st thy self ungratefull Dor. That Character was never coveted Nor must I wrong my innocence so much Not to demand a reason of this slander Amin. I will produce the truth thou wouldst profess A witness 'gainst thy self How oft have I With care and industry preserv'd thy flock And when thy tender Lambs have been in danger How many times have I opos'd the wolf And made my strength defender of their weakness And when thy self hast follow'd idle pastimes Thy Flocks and mine have still been twin'd together Till by my vigilance I have instructed The enemies to Shepherds and their Flocks They were to fear me as thy sheep did them Nor have I had a thought except those dear ones That have been busied by Oenone's vertues Which has not stil paid tribute to thy friendship Dor. You then would have prerogative in love And leave no priviledge to me but friendship If you allow Oenone vertuous And that her eys have power to pierce all hearts Why should the man which you will call a friend Be banisht from the blest socitie Of those who are her servants 'T were a crime Against her beautie to beleeve she should Merit but one mans service he which reigns here I know must love and that necessitie Makes rivals necessarie Streph. T is a truth I must acknowledg pardon me my friend I find the Nymph Oenone is too worthy Yet her perfections were they centupled Shall not dissolve nor in the least diminish What has bin formerly esteem'd a triumph Which is a perfect frindship Dor. In that confidence Thus we unite agen But who comes here Entr Hobbinall with a paper in his hand Streph. 'T is Hobbinall One that beleeves 't is but Oenone's dutie Directly to confess her selfe beholding To him for his affection he supposes That his deserts are greater then her beauties And is as confident the fair Nymph loves him As we are that she does not yet his fortune Is more to be commeded then our fate For she is pleas'd to smile at his rude actions The best of our endeavours are not valued Dor. What paper 's that he ruminates upon Let us observe a little Hob. 'T is a strange thing I find my self out everie day more then other to be one of the understandingst sweetest neatest and compleatest Shepherds that ever took hook in hand Tother day I saw my face in a pail of water and I had much adoe to forbear drowning of my self 't is no wonder then that the beauteous Nymph Oenone makes much of me and lets all the other Shepherds shake their ears like Asses And the truth is if I can find never a handsomer she shall serve the turn This was her birth-day she being born in the year one thousand six hundred nay hold a little but on this day of the month it was Winter or Summer in the honour of which we all keep holiday and therefore for the credit of her beauty and the honor of my own Poetry have made such a Copie of Verses on her as will make her a thousand times handsomer then ever she was in her life I will peruse them now with the eys of understanding He reads OEnone fair whose Beauty does enrich us Tell me the cause why thou dost so bewitch us On this day thou wert born though not begotten This day I le think on when th' art dead rotten And though thy coyness and thy pretty scorn Makes many wish that thou hadst nere been born Yet for my own part this I le swear and say I wish thy time of Birth were every day If she do not run mad for love of me now 't is pitie she should have Verses made on her as long as she lives Streph. Let 's interrupt him Hobbinall well met Hob. It may be so Dor. But why so strange man I hope you will remember we are your fellow Shepherds Hob. You were once but now I command you to know I am a Master Shepherd for the fair Nymph Oenone that makes all your mouths run over with water does acknowledge me to be both Master and Mistresse Streph. In part 't is true yet if you well consider she makes you but her sport no otherwise If she make me her sport 't is more then ever she can make of thee for thou art one of the sowrest lookt fellows that ever crept out of a vineger-bottle Enter Oenone Dor. Here comes the fairest Idae ever nourisht Hob. I will accost her Streph. Forbear a while good Hobbinall Oenone It was my fault To be so credulous but 't was his sin To be so lavish of his protestations Oh Paris Paris thy inconstant nature Argues the fickleness which Poets fansie In women but a Fiction I that have formerly acknowledg'd thee The onely person meriting respect Must now produce this thy particular falshood As one to dare example let no more The Shepherds be at strife to please Oenone Let every Maypole-meeting every feast Be honor'd by a happier Nymph then I To be the Mistress of those harmless pastimes Dor. Hail to the Nymph that graces Idaes vale Accept my service at this dayes solemnity Streph. And if the same from me can be accepted nothing so pleasing is as to present it Hob. I you may talk as finely as you wil but when I come to speak once I 'm sure you will be kickt off Oen. What you profess may wel claim an acceptance Hob. Now wil I see who is the most deserving Shepherd in all the vale of Idae little rogue howdost thou Oenone O Hobbinall you are welcome I thought you had forgot me you are my sport and should be ever neer me Hob. Look you there I am her sport she says when will she give any of you such an honorable title but Sport I do not think but thou art a Conjurer or a Witch or a Divell at least for thou hast infused such a combustion of Poetry in my head that I fear I shall never be my own man agen nor my Masters neither There 's a Copie of verses read 'um nay they are my own as sure as my name 's Hobbinall Oenone I thank you Sport I le study a requitall Enter Amintas Dorus Amarillis Cloris and Phillis Amintas Fair one we come to celebrate this day With other Shepherds who