About thee, which, it seems, thy tongue hath lost. Thy hands are bloody, and thou hast a knife. Evad. In this consists thy happiness and mine. Joy to Amintor! for the King is dead. Amin. Those have most power to hurt us, that we love; 130 135 We lay our sleeping lives within their arms. I shall not fear to meet it. Take me home. Than thou canst make thy sword. 160 Away, away! Thy knees are more to me than violence. Evad. Receive me, then. Amin. I dare not stay thy language. 165 In midst of all my anger and my grief, Thou dost awake something that troubles me, And says, I lov'd thee once. I dare not stay; There is no end of woman's reasoning. Leaves her. Evad. [rising.] Amintor, thou shalt love me now again. 170 Go; I am calm. Farewell, and peace for ever! Evadne, whom thou hat'st, will die for thee. Stabs herself. Amin. (returning.) I have a little human na ture yet, That's left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. Evad. Thy hand was welcome, but it came too late. Oh, I am lost! the heavy sleep makes haste. Asp. Oh, oh, oh! 173 She dies. Amin. This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feel That calls my flesh unto 'em; I am cold. There's something yet, which I am loth to leave: 185 There's man enough in me to meet the fears That death can bring; and yet would it were done! 190 I can find nothing in the whole discourse Asp. Was it a dream? There stands Amintor still; Cal. I know not what the matter is, but I am grown very kind, and am friends with you all now. You have given me that among you will kill me quickly; but I'll go home, and live as long as I can. [Exit.] 288 Mel. His spirit is but poor that can be kept From death for want of weapons. Is not my hands a weapon sharp enough 291 Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that May this a fair example be to me 295 To rule with temper; for on lustful kings Unlookt-for sudden deaths from God are IF you be not reasonably assur'd of your knowledge in this kind of poem, lay down the book, or read this, which I would wish had been the prologue. It is a pastoral tragi-comedy, which the people seeing when it was play'd, having ever had a singular gift in defining, concluded to be a play of country hired shepherds in gray cloaks, with curtail'd dogs in strings, sometimes laughing together, and sometimes killing one another; and, missing Whitsun-ales, cream, wassail, and morris-dances, began to be angry. In their error I would not have you fall, lest you incur their censure. Understand, therefore, a pastoral to be a representation of shepherds and shepherdesses with their actions and passions, which must be such as may agree with their natures, at least not exceeding former fictions and vulgar traditions; they are not to be adorn'd with any art, but such improper ones as nature is said to bestow, as singing and poetry; or such as experience may teach them, as the virtues of herbs and fountains, the ordinary course of the sun, moon, and stars, and such like. But you are ever to remember shepherds to be such as all the ancient poets, and modern, of understanding, have received them; that is, the owners of flocks, and not hirelings. A tragi-comedy is not so called in respect of mirth and killing, but in respect it wants deaths, which is enough to make it no tragedy, yet brings some near it, which is enough to make it no comedy, which must be a representation of familiar people, with such kind of trouble as no life be question'd; 2 so that a god is as lawful in this as in a tragedy, and mean people as in a comedy. Thus much I hope will serve to justify my poem, and make you understand it; to teach you more for nothing, I do not know that I am in conscience bound. ACT I Enter CLORIN, a shepherdess, having buried her love in an arbour. Clorin. Hail, holy earth, whose cold arms do The truest man that ever fed his flocks Q. Q, omits Some copies of Q, read merry. B JOHN FLETCHER. That shall outlive thee, and shall ever spring, 30 Only rememb'ring what my youth did gain Or be they love-sick, or through too much heat 35 40 My meat shall be what these wild woods afford, Berries and chestnuts, plantains, on whose cheeks The sun sits smiling, and the lofty fruit Pull'd from the fair head of the straight-grown pine; On these I'll feed with free content, and : 105 The daughter of a shepherd; he was mortal, lambs shrink Makes me a-cold: my fear says I am mortal. 110 114 Or voices calling me in dead of night, ruin:] 120 Else why should this rough thing, who never knew Manners nor smooth humanity,2 whose heats 3 Are rougher than himself and more mis-shapen, Thus mildly kneel to me? Sure there is a power 124 In that great name of virgin, that binds fast Be thou my strongest guard, for here I'll dwell In opposition against fate and hell! [Retires into her bower.) [SCENE II.] 4 Enter an Old Shepherd, with four couples of Shepherds and Shepherdesses, [among whom are PERIGOT and AMORET.] Belief to that the Satyr tells: To this present day ne'er grew, Never better nor more true. Here be grapes, whose lusty blood Is the learned poets' good, Sweeter yet did never crown The head of Bacchus ; nuts more brown Old Shep. Now we have done this holy festival 2 Culture. In the neighbourhood of a village. 3 Passions. ཡ་་་ 4 Whatsoever this great day, Or the past hours, gave not good, Of the grapes, and strength of meat, All your thoughts be smooth and fair: Through your purged conduits 1 beat, Or a wanton verse be spoken In a shepherdess's ear: Go your ways, ye are all clear. 10 15 20 25 They rise and sing in praise of PAN. Or mingle my clean thoughts with foul desira The wolf, or winter's rage, summer's great heat Amo. I pray thee, gentle shepherd, wish not 80: I do believe thee; 't is as hard for me Peri. Straighter than the straightest pine upon the steep Head of an aged mountain; and more white Than the new milk we strip before day-light From the full-freighted bags of our fair flocks; Your hair more beauteous than those hanging locks Of young Apollo ! Amo. Shepherd, be not lost; Y' are sail'd too far already from the coast = Of your discourse. Peri. Did you not tell me once I should not love alone, I should not lose Those many passions, vows, and holy oaths, I've sent to heaven? Did you not give your hand, Even that fair hand, in hostage? Do not, then, Give back again those sweets to other men, You yourself vow'd were mine. Amo. Shepherd, so far as maiden's modesty May give assurance, I am once more thine, Once more I give my hand. Be ever free From that great foe to faith, foul jealousy! Peri. I take it as my best good; and desire, For stronger confirmation of our love, To meet this happy night in that fair grove, * Where all true shepherds have rewarded been For their long service: say,.sweet, shall it hold? Amo. Dear friend, you must not blame me, if I make |