I Cannot see, Montanus, why it is fain'd by the Poets, that Loue sat vpon the Chaos and created the world; since in the world there is so little loue.

thou canst not see that which cannot with reason be imagined; for it the diuine vertues of Loue, had disperst themselues through the powers of the world, so forcibly as to make them take by his influence, the formes and qualities imprest within them, no doubt they could not c [...]se, but fauour more of his Diuinitie.

I doe not thinke Loue hath any sparke of Diuini­tie in him; since the end or his being is earthly. In the bloud is he begot by the fraile fires of the eye, & quenche by the frayler shadowes of thought. What reason haue we then to soothe his humor with such zeale, and folow his fading delights with such passion.

We haue bodies, Siluestris, and humane bodies; which in their [...] natures being much more wretched then beastes, [...] [...] more miserably then beasts pur­sue their owne [...]: And since it will aske longer la­bour and studie to subdue the powers of our bloud, to the rule of the soule, then to satisfie them with the fruition of [Page] our loues, let vs bee constant in the worlds errours, and seeke our owne torments.

As good yeeld indeed submissiuely, and satisfie part of our affections; as bee stubburne without abilitie to resist, and enioy none of them: I am in worst plight, since I loue a Nymph that mockes loue.

And I one that hates loue.

I, one that thinkes her selfe aboue loue.

Let vs not dispute whose mistris is most bad, since they be all cruell; nor which of our fortunes be most froward, since they bee all desperate. I will hang my Skut­chin on this tree in honour of Ceres, and write this verse on the tree in hope of my successe, Penelopen ipsam perstes, mode tempore vinces. Penelope will yeeld at last: continue and conquer.

I this: Fructus abest facies cum bona teste caret. Faire faces lose their fauours, if they admit no louers.

But why studiest thou? What wilt thou write for thy Lady to read?

That which necessitie maketh me to indure, loue reuerence, wisdome wonder at. Riualem patienter h [...]e.

Come, let vs euerie one to our walkes, it may be we shall meete them walking.

ACTVS PRIMVS. SCENA SECVNDA.

It is time to hang vp our Garlands, this is our haruest holyday, wee must both sing and daunce in the honour of Ceres: of what colours or flowers is thine made of, Niobe?

Or Salamints, which in the morning are white, [...] at noone, and in the Euening purple, for in my affec­tions [Page] shall there be no staiednesse but in vnstaiedues: bue what is yours of, Nisa?

Of Hollie, because it is most holy, which louely greene neither the Sunnes beames, nor the winds blasts can alter or diminish. But Celia, what Garland haue you?

Mine all of Cypres leaues, which are broadest and beautifullest, yet beareth the least fruit; for beautie maketh the brightest shew, being the slightest substance; and I am content to wither before I bee worne, and de­priue my selfe of that which so many desire.

Come, let vs make an end, lest Ceres come and find vs slacke in performing that which wee owe: But soft, some haue beene here this Morning before vs.

The amorous Foresters, or none, for in the woods they haue eaten so much wake-Robin, that they cannot sleepe for loue.

Alas poore soules, how ill loue founds in their lips, who telling a long tale of hunting, thinke they haue bewray'd a sad passion of loue!

Giue them leaue to loue, since we haue libertie to chuse, for as great sport doe I take in coursing their tame hearts, as they doe paines in hunting their wilde Harts.

Niobe, your affection is but pinned to your tongue, which when you lift you can vnloose▪ But let vs read what they haue written: Penelope [...] ipsam perstes mode tempore vinces. That is for you Nisa, whome nothing will mooue, yet hope makes him houer.

A fond Hobbie to houer ouer an Eagle.

But Forresters thinke all Birds to be Buntings. What's the nexte Fructus abest facies cum bona teste care [...], Celia, the Forrester giues you good counsel, take your pen­ [...]worth whiles the market serues.

I hope it will be market day till my deathes day.

Let me read to Ri [...]tem patienter babe, Heetou­cheth [Page] you, Niobe, on the quicke, yet you see how patient he is in your constancie.

Inconstancie is a vice, which I will not swap for all the vertues; though I throwe one off with my whole hand, I can pull him againe with my little finger; let vs en­courage them and write something; if they censure in fa­uourably, we know them fooles; if angerly, we wil say they are fro [...]ard.

I will begin. Cedit amor rebus, res age, tutus eris.

Indeed better to tell stars then be idle, yet bet­ter idle then ill employed; Mine this, Sat [...]ihi sifacies, sit bene nota mihi.

You care for nothing but a Glasse, that is a flat­terer.

Then all men are Glasses.

Some Glasses are true.

No men are; but this is mine: Victoriatecum stabit.

Thou giuest hope.

He is worthy o [...]e, that is patient.

Let vs sing, and so attend on Ceres; for this day, although into her heart neuer entred any motion of loue, yet vsually to the Temple of Cupid, hee offereth [...] vo white Doues, as entreating his fauour, and one Eagle, as commanding his power. Praecibus (que) minaes regaliter addet.

What noyse is this, what assembly, what Ido­latrie Is the modestie of virgins turnd to wantonnesse? The honour of Ceres accompted immortal? And Erisicthon ruler of this Forrest, esteemed of no force? Impudent giglots, that you are, to disturbe my game, or dare doe honour to any but Erisicthon. It is not your faire faces as smooth as lea [...]e, nor your entysing eyes, though they drew vron like Adamai [...]ts, nor your filed speeches, were they as for­cible, [Page] as Thessalides, that shall make me any way flexible.

Erisicthon, thy sterne lookes ioynd with thy stout speeches; thy words as vnkembd as thy lockes, were able to affright men of bold courage, and to make vs silly girles franticke, that are full of feare; but knowe thou, Erisicthon, that were thy hands so vnstated as thy tongue, and th'one as ready to execute mischiefe, as the other to threa­ten it; it should neither moue our hearts to aske pittie, or remooue our bodies from this place; wee are the hand­maides of diuine Ceres, to faire Ceres is this holy tree dedi­cated, to Ceres, by whose fauour thy selfe liuest, that are worthy to perish.

Are you addicted to Ceres, that in spight of Erisicthon you wil vse these sacrifices? No, immodest girles, you shall see that I haue neither regard of your sexe which men should tender, nor of your beautie which foolish loue would dote on, nor of your goddesse, which none but pieuish girles reuerence: I will destroy this tree in [...] ­spite of all, and that you may see my hand execute, [...] my heart intendeth; and that no meane may appea [...]e my malice, my last word shall bee the beginning of the first blowe.

Our alas, what hath he done?

Our selues, I feare, must also minister matter to his furie.

Let him alone: but see, the tree powreth our bloud, and I heare a voice.

What voice? If in the tree there be any bodie, speake quickly, left the next blow hit the tale out of thy mouth.

Monster of men, hate of the heauens, and to the earth a burthen, what hath chast Fidelia committed? It is thy spite, Cupid, that hauing no power to wound my vn­sported mind, procurest meanes to mangle my tender bo­dy, and by violēce to gash those sides, that enclose a heart dedicate to vertue: or is it that sauage satire, that feeding his [Page] sensuall appetite vpon lust, seeketh now to quench it with bloud, that being without hope to attaine my loue, hee may with cruelty end my life? Or doth Ceres, whose nymph I haue beene many yeares, in recompence of my inuiola­ble saith, reward me with vnspeakable torments? Diuine Phoebus that pursued Daphne till shee was turned to a Bay tree, ceased then to trouble her. I, the gods are pitti­full; and Cineras, that with furie followed his daughter Mi­retia, till shee was chaunged to a Mirretree, left then to prosecute her; yea parents are naturall: Phoebus lamen­ted the losse of his friend, Cineras of his child: but both gods, and men either forget or neglect the chaunge of Fi­delia; nay follow her after her chaunge, to make her more miserable: so that there is nothing more hatefull then to be chast, whole bodies are followed in the world with lust, and prosecuted in the graues with tyrannie. Whose minds the freer they are from vice, their bodies are in the more daunger of mischiefe; so that they are not safe when they liue, because of mens loue; nor being chaunged, because of their hates; nor being dead, because of their defaming. What is that chastitie which so few women study to keep, and both gods and men seeke to violate? If onely a na­ked name, why are we so supersticious of a hollow found? If a rare vertue, why are men so carelesse of such an ex­ceeding rarenesse: Goe, Ladies, tell Ceres I am that Fide­lia, that so long knit Garlands in her honour, and chased with a Satyre, by praier to the gods became turned to a tree, whole body now is growne ouer with rough barke, and whose golden lockes are couered with greene leaues; yet where [...]nd nothing can alter, neither the feare of death, nor the torments. If Ceres seeke no reuenge, then let virginitie be not only the scorne of Sauage people, but the spoyle. But alas, I feele my last bloud to come, & ther­fore must end my last breath. Farewel Ladies, whose liues are subiect to many mischieues; for if you be faire, it is hard to be chast; if chast, impossible to be safe; if you be young, [Page] you will quickly bend; if bend, you are suddenly broken. If you be soule, you shall seldome be flattered: if you be not flattered, you will euer bee sorrowfull. Beautie is a firme sicklenes, youth a feeble staiednesse, deformitie a continu­all sadnesse.

Thou monster, canst thou heare this without griefe?

Yea, and double your griefes with my blowes.

Ah poore Fidelia, the expresse patterne of chasti­tie, and example of misfortune.

Ah cruel Erisicthon, that not onely defacest these holy trees, but murtherest also this chast nimph.

Nimph or goddesse it skilleth not, for there is none that Erisicthon careth for, but Erisicthon: let Ceres the Lady of your haruest reuenge when shee will, nay when shee dares, and tell her this, that I am Erisicthon.

Thou art none of the gods.

No, a contemner of the gods.

And hopest thou to escape reuenge being but a man?

Yea, I care not for reuenge beeing a man and Erisicthon.

Come, let vs to Ceres and complaine of this vn­acquainted and incredible villaine; if there bee power in her deitie, in her mind pittie, or vertue in virginitie, this monster cannot escape.

SCENA PRIMA.

Doth Erisicthon offer force to my Nymphs, and to my deitie disgrace? Haue I stuffed his barnes with fruit­full [Page] graine, and doth hee stretch his hand against me with intolerable pride? So it is, Ceres, thine eyes may witnesse what thy Nymphes haue told, heere lyeth the tree hackt in peeces, and the bloud scarce cold of the fairest virgine. If this bee thy crueltie, Cupid, I will no more hallow thy temple with sacred vowes [...]t thy cankred nature, Erisicthon, thou shalt find as great miserie, as thou shewest malice: I am resolued of thy punishment, and as speedie shall bee my reuenge, as thy rigour barbarous. Tirtenae, on yonder lull where neuer grew graine nor lease, where nothing is but barrenesse and coldnesse, feare and palenesse, lyeth famine, goe to her, and say that Ceres commaundeth her to gnaw on the bowels of Erisicthon, that his hunger may bee as vnquenchable as his furie.

I obey, but how should I know her from others?

Thou canst not misse of her, if thou remember but her name; and that canst thou not forget, for that comming neere to the place, thou shalt find gnawing in thy stomacke. Shee lyeth gaping, and swalloweth noughe but ayre; her face pale and so leane, that as easily thou maiest, through the verie skinne behold the bone, as in a glasse thy shadow; her haire long, blacke and shaggie; her eyes sunke so farre into her head, that shee looketh out of the nape of her necke; her lips white and rough; her teeth hollow and red with rustinesse; her skin so thin, that thou maiest as liuely make an Anatomie of her body, as shee were cut vp with Chirurgiōs; her maw like a drie bladder, her heart swo [...]ne bigge with wind, and all her bowels like snakes working in her body. This monster when thou shalthehold, tell her my mind, and returne with speed.

I goe, fearing more the sight of famine, then the force.

Take thou these few cares of corne, but let not [...] so much as smell to them; and let her goe aloose from thee: Now shall Erisicthon see that Ceres is a great goddesse, as full of power as himselfe of pride; and as pit­tilesse, [Page] as he presumptuous; how thinke you Ladies, is not this reuenge apt for [...]o great iniurie?

Yes Madam: To let men see, they that contend with the gods, doe but confound themselues.

But let vs to the Temple of Cupid, and offer sacri­fice; they that thinke it straunge for chastime to humble it selfe to Cupid, knowe neither the power of loue, nor t [...]e nature of virginitie: th'one hauing absolute authoritie to commaund, the other difficultie to resist: and where such continuall warre is betweene loue and vertue, there must bee some parties, and continuall perils: Cupid was neuer conquered, and therefore must bee flattered; Virginitie hath, and therefore must be humble.

Into my heart, Madam, there did neuer enter any motion of loue.

Those that often say, they cannot loue, or will not loue, certainely they loue. Didst thou neuer see Cupid?

No, but I haue heard him described at the full, and as I imagined, foolishly. First that he should bee a god blind and naked, with wings, with bowe, with arrowes, with free-brands; swimming sometimes in the Sea, & play­ing sometimes on the shore; with many other deuices, which the Painters being the Poets Apes, haue taken as great paines to shaddow, as they to lie. Can I thinke that gods that commaund all things, would goe naked? What should he doe with wings that knowes not where to slice? Or what with arrowes, that sees not howe to ayme? The heart is a narrow marks go hit, and rather requireth Angus eyes to take leuel, ther a blind boy to shoote at randome: If he were fire, the Sea would quench those coles, or the flame turne him into cinders.

Well Nisa, thou shalt see him.

I feare Niobe hath felt him.

Not I, Madam, yet must I confesse, that often­times I haue had sweete thoughts, sometimes hard con­ceites, betwixt both a kind of yeelding; I know not what. [Page] But certainely I thinke it is not loue: sigh I can, and [...] ease in melancholly: smile I doe and take pleasure in ima­gination, I feele in my selfe a pleasing paine, a chill heate, a delicate bitternesse, how to terme it I know not; with­out doubt it may be loue, sure I am it is not hate.

Niobe is tender hearted, whose thoughts are [...] water, yeelding to euerie thing, and nothing to bee seene.

Well, let vs to Cupid, and tak [...] [...]eede [...] your stubbernesse yo'i offend him not, whome by entrea­ties you ought to follow Dianas Nymphes were as cha [...]t as Ceres virgines, as faire, as wife: how Cupid tormented them, I had rather you should heare then feele, but this is truth, they all yeelded to loue: looke not scornefully, my Nymphes, I say they are yeelded to loue. This is the tem­ple, thou great god Cupid, whome the gods regard and men reuerence, let it bee lawfull for Ceres to offer her sa­crifice.

Diuine Ceres, Cupid accepteth any thing, that commeth from Ceres, which feedeth my Sparrowes with ripe corne, my Pigeons with wholsome seedes; and ho­nourest my Temple with chast virgines.

Then Loue, to thee I bring these white and spot­lesse Doues, in token that my heart is as free from any thought of loue, as these from any blemish, and as cleare in virginitie, as these perfect in whitenesse. But that my Nymphes may know both thy power and thy lawes, and neither erre in ignorance nor pride; let me aske some questions to instruct them that they offend not th [...], who [...]e resist they cannot. In virgines what dost thou [...] desire?

In those that are not in loue, reuerent thoughts of loue, in those that be, faithfull vowes.

What doest thou most hate in virgines?

Pride in the beautifull, bitter taunts in the wittie, [...] in all.

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What may protect my virgines that they [...] ne­ [...]r loue?

That they be neuer idle.

Why didst thou so cruellie torment all Dianas Nymphe [...] wit [...] [...]oue?

Because they thought it impossible to loue.

What is the substance of loue?

Constancie and secrecie.

What the signes?

Sighes and teares.

What the causes?

Wit and idlenesse.

What the meanes?

Oportunitie and Importunitie.

What the end?

Happinesse without end.

What require [...] thou of men?

That onely shall be knowne to men.

What [...] for those that will not loue?

To be deceiued when they doe.

Well, Cupid, intreate my Nymphes with fauour and though to loue it be no vice, yet spotlesse virginitie is the onely vertue: let me keepe their thoughtes as chast as their bodies, than Ceres may be happie, & they praised.

Why, Ceres, doe you thinke that lust followeth loue? Ceres, louers are chast: for what is loue, diuine loue, but the quintescens of chastitie, and affections binding by heauenly motions, thou cannot bee vndone by earthly meanes, [...] by any man?

[...] continuall sacrifice, warme vs with mild [...] wee seeme immodest [...] [...] ­ble like stockes.

Ceres, [...] be light nor obstina [...], [...] [Page] and faithfull; so shall your flames warme, but not burne, delight and neuer discomfort.

How say you, my Nymphs, doth not Cupid speake like a [...]o [...] ▪ Counsel you I will not to loue, but coniure you I [...]u [...]t that you be not disdainefull, let vs in, and see how Er [...]sictson speedeth; famine f [...]eth swiftly, and hath alrea­dy seyzed on his stomacke.

SCENA PRIMA.

Stay, cruell Nisa, thou knowest not from whome thou fliest, and therefore fliest; I come not to offer vio­lence, but that which is inuiolable, my thoughts are as ho­ly [...]s thy vowes, and I as constant in loue as thou in cruel­tie: lust followeth not my loue as shadowes doe bodies, but truth is wouen into my loue, as veines into bodies; let me touch this tender arme, and say my loue is endlesse.

And to no end.

It is without spot.

And shall be without hope.

Dost thou disdaine Loue and his lawes?

I doe not disdaine that which I thinke is not, yet laugh at those that honour it if it be.

Time shall bring to passe, that Nisa shall confesse there is loue.

Then also will loue make me confesse, that Nisa [...] a foole.

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Is it folly to loue, which the gods accompt ho­nourable, and men esteeme holy?

The gods make any thing lawfull, because they be gods, and men honour shadowes for substance, because they are men.

Both gods and men agree that loue is a consu­ming of the heart, and restoring a bitter death in a sweete life.

Gods doe know, and men should, that loue is a consuming of wit, and restoring of folly, a staring blind­nesse, and a blind gazing.

Wouldst thou allot me death?

No, but discretion.

Yeeld some hope.

Hope to dispaire.

Not so long as Nisa is a woman.

Therein, Ramis, you shew your selfe a man.

Why?

In flattering your selfe, that all women wil yeeld.

All may.

Thou shalt sweare that we cannot.

I will follow thee, and practise by denials to bee patient, or by disdaining die, and so be happie.

Though thou hast ouer-taken me in loue, yet haue I ouer-taken thee in running: faire Celia, yeelde to loue, to sweete loue.

Montanus, thou art mad, that hauing no breath almost in running so fast, thou wilt yet spend more in spea­king so foolishly: yeeld to loue! cannot, or if I doe, to thy loue I will not.

The fairest Wolfe chuseth the foulest, if he bee faithfullest, and he that indureth most griefe, nor hee that hath most beautie.

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If my thoughts were woluish, thy hopes might be as thy comparison is, beastly.

I would thy words were, as thy lookes are, louely.

I would thy lookes were, as thy affection is, blind.

Faire faces should haue smoothe hearts.

Fresh flowres haue crooked rootes.

Womens beauties will waine, and then no art can make them faire?

Mens follies will euer waxe, and then what rea­son can make them wise?

To be amiable and not to loue, is like a painted Lady, to haue colours, and no life.

To bee amorous, and not louely, is like a plea­sant foole full of words, and no deserts.

What call you deserts, what louely▪

No louelier thing then wit, no greater desert then patience.

Haue not I an excellent wit?

If thou thinke sothy selfe, thou art an excellent foole.

Foole? No, Celia, thou shalt find me as wise, as I doe thee proud, and as little to disgest thy taunts, as thou to brooke my loue.

I thought, Montanus, that you could not de­serue, when I told you what it was, Patience.

Sweete Celia, I will be patient and forget this.

Then want you wit, that you can be content to be patient.

A hard choyse, if I take all well, to be a foole, if find fault, then to want patience.

The fortune of loue, and the vertue is neither to haue successe, nor meane. Farewel.

Farewell, nay I will follow, and I know not how it commeth to passe; disdaine increaseth desire, and the farther possibilitie standeth, the neerer approacheth hope.

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Polypus, Niobe, is euer of the colour of the stone it slicketh to, and thou euer of his humor thou talkest with.

Find you fault that I loue?

So many.

Would you haue me like none?

Yes one.

Who shall make choyse but my selfe?

My selfe.

For another to put thoughts into my head, were to pull the braynes out of my head; take not measure of my affections, but weigh your owne: the Oake findeth no fault with the dewe, because it also falleth on the bramble. Beleeue me, Sil [...]str [...], the onely way to be mad, is to bee constant. Poets make their wreathes of Lawrell, Ladies of sundrie flowers.

Sweete Niobe, a ryuer running into diuers brookes becommeth shallow, and a mind diuided into sundrie af­fections, in the end will haue none: what [...]oy can I take in the fortune of my loue, when I shall know many to haue the like fauours? Turtles slocke by couples, and breede both ioy and young ones.

But Bees in swarmes, and bring forth waxe and honie.

Why doe you couet many, that may find sweet­nesse in one?

Why had Argus an hundred eyes, and might haue seene with one?

Because whilest he slept with some, he might wake with other some.

And I loue many, because being deceiued by the inconstancie of diuers, I might yet haue one.

That was but a deuice of Inno, that knewe I [...]p [...]ors loue.

And this a rule of Venus, that knew [...] light [...]es.

The whole heauen hath but one Sun [...].

But starres ins [...].

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The Rainebow is euer in one compasse.

But of sundrie colours.

A woman hath but one heart.

But a thousand thoughts.

My Lute, though it haue many strings, maketh a sweete consent, and a Ladies heart, though it harbour ma­ny fancies, should embrace but one loue.

The strings of my heart are tuned in a contra­rie keye to your Lute, and make as sweete harmonie in discords, as yours in concord.

Why, what strings are in Ladies hearts? Not the base.

There is no base string in a womans heart.

The meane?

There was neuer meane in womans heart.

The treble▪

Yea, the treble double and treble, and so are all my heart strings. Farewell.

Sweete Niobe, let vs sing, that I may die with the Swanne.

It will make you sigh the more, and liue wi [...] the Salamich.

Are thy tunes fire?

Are yours death?

No, but when I haue heard thy voice, I am con­tent to die.

I will sing to content thee.

Inconstant Niobe! vnhappie Siluestris! yet had I rather shee should rather loue all then none: for nowe though I haue no certaintie, yet doe I find a kinde of sweetnesse.

Cruell Nisa, borne to slaughter men!

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Coy Celia, bred vp in skoftes!

Wauering, yet wittie Niobe, but are wee all mo [...]

Yea, and met withall, if your fortunes be answer­able to mine, for I find my M [...]stris immoueable, and the hope I haue is to despaire.

Mine in pride intolerable, who biddeth me looke for no other comfort then contempt.

Mine is best of all, and worst, this is my hope, that either shee will haue many or none.

I feare our fortunes cannot thriue, for Erisicthon hath felled downe the holy tree of Ceres, which will en­crease in her choler, and in her Nymphes crueltie: let vs see whether our Garlands bee there which we hanged on that tree, and let vs hang our selues vpon another.

A remedie for loue irremoueable, but I will first see whether all those that loue Niobe, do like in the meane season I will content my selfe with my share.

Here is the tree. O mischiefe scarce to be belee­ued, in possible to be pardoned!

Pardoned it is not, for Erisicthon perisheth with famine, and is able to starue those that looke on him. Here hang our Garlands, something is written, read mine.

Cedit amor rebus, res age, tutus eris.

And mine.

Sat mihi si facies, sit bene nota mihi.

Now for my selfe,

Victoriatecum stabit scilicet.

You see their posies is as their hearts; and their hearts as their speeches, cruell, proud and wauering: let vs all to the Temple of Cupid, and intreate his fauour, if not to obtaine their loues, yet to reuenge their hates, Cupid is a kinde god, who knowing our vnsported thoughts, will punish them, or release vs. Wee will studie what re­uenge to haue, that our paines proceeding of our owne minds, then plagues may also proceed from theirs. Are you all agreed▪

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I consent; but what if Cupid denie helpe?

Then he is no god.

But if he yeeld, what shall we aske?

Reuenge.

Then let vs prepare our selues for Cupids sacrifice.

ACTVS TERTIVS. SCENA SECVNDA.

Come, Protea, deare daughter, that name must thou buy too deare, necessitie causeth thee to be sold, na­ture must frame thee to be contented. Thou seest in how short a space I haue turned all my goods into my guts, where I feele a continuall fire, which nothing can quench, my famine increaseth by eating, resembling the Sea which receiueth all things, and cannot bee filled: life is sweete, hunger sharpe, betweene them the contention must bee short, vnlesse thou, Protea, prolong it. I haue ac­knowledged my offence against Ceres, make amends, I cannot, for the gods holding the ballance in their hands, what recompence can equally weigh with their punish­ments? Or what is hee that hauing but one ill thought of Ceres, that can race it with a thousand dutifull actions? such is the difference, that none can find defence: this is the ods, we miserable, and men, they immortall, and gods.

Deare father, I will obey both to sale and slaugh­ter, accompting it the onely happinesse of my life, should I liue an hundred yeares, to prolong yours but one my­ [...]te: I yeeld father, chop and chaunge me, I am readie, but first let mee make my prayers to Neptune, and with­draw [Page] your selfe till I haue done, long it shall not bee, now it must be.

Stay, sweete Protea, and that great god heare thy prayer, though Ceres stop her eares to mine.

Sacred Neptune, whose godhead conquered my maiden-head, bee as ready to heare my passions, as I was to beleeue thine, and performe that now I intreate, which thou didst promise when thy selfe didst loue. Let not me bee a pray to this Marchaunt, who knowes no other god then Gold, vnlesse it bee falsely swearing by a god to get gold; let me, as often as I be bought for money, or pawnd for meate, be turned into a Bird, Hare, or Lambe, or any shape, wherin I may be safe, [...]o shall I preserue mine owne honour, my fathers life, and neuer repent me of thy loue, and now bestirre thee, for of all men, I hate that Marchant, who, if he find my beautie worth one pennie, will put it to vse to gaine ten, hauing no Religion in his mind, nor word in his mouth but money. Neptune, heare now or neuer. Father, I haue done.

In good time, Protea, thou hast done, for loe, the Marchant keepeth not onely day, but hower.

If I had not beene here, had I beene forfeited [...]

No; Protea, but thy father famished. Here, Gen­tleman, I am ready with my daughter.

Gentleman?

Yea, Gentleman, faire maide, my conditions make me no lesse.

Your conditions in deed brought in your obli­gations, your obligations, your Vsurie, your Vsurie, your Gentrie.

Why, doe you iudge no Marchants Gentle­men?

Yes, many, and some no men.

You shall be well intreated at my hands.

It may. Commmaunded I will not be.

If you be mine by bargaine, you shall.

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Father, hath this Marchant also bought my mind?

He cannot buy that, which cannot be sold.

Here is the money.

Here the maide: farewell, my sweete daughter, I commit thee to the gods, and this mans curtesie, who I hope will deale no worse with thee, then hee would haue the gods with him, I must bee gone, left I doe starue as I stand.

Farewell, deare Father, I will not cease continu­ally to pray to Ceres, for thy recouerie.

You are now mine, Protea.

And mine owne.

In will, not power.

In power if I will.

I perceiue, Nettles gently touched, sting, but roughly handled, make no smart.

Yet roughly handled, Nettles are Nettles, and a Waspe is a Waspe, though [...]hee lose her sting.

But then they doe no harme.

Nor good.

Come with me, and you shall see, that Mar­chaunts know their good, as well as Gentlemen.

Sure I am, they haue Gentlemens goods.

SCENA PRIMA.

This is the Temple of our great god, let vs offer our sacrifice.

I am readie.

And I. Cupid, thou god of loue, whose arrowes haue pierced our hearts, giue eare to our plaints.

If you come to Cupid, speake boldly, so must lo­uers, speake faithfully, so must speeders.

These euer burning Lampes, are signes of my neuer to be quenched flames; this bleeding heart, in which yet stickes the head of the golden shaft, is the liuely pic­ture of inward torments: mine eyes shall bedewe thine Altars with teares, and my sighes couer thy Temple with a darke smoake, pittie poore Ramis.

With this distaffe haue I spun, that my exerci­ses may bee as womanish as my affections, and so did Her­cules: and with this halter will I hang my selfe, if my for­tunes answere not my deserts, and so did Iphis. Yo thee, diuine Cupid, I present not a bleeding, but a bloudlesse heart, dried onely with sorrow, and worne with faithfull seruice.

This picture Toffer, carued with no other instrument then Loue; pittie poore Montanus.

This fanne of Swans and Turtles feathers, is to­ken of my truth and iealousie: iealousie, without which loue is dotage, and with which loue is madnesse, without the which loue is lust, and with which loue is folly. This heart, neither bleeding nor bloudlesse, but [...]wolne with [Page] sighes, I offer to thy godhead, protesting, that all my thoughts are as my words without lust; and all my loue, as my fortune without sweetnesse. This Garland of flowers, which hath all colours of the Rainebowe, witnesseth that my heart hath all torments of the world: pittie poore Sil­vestris.

I accept your offers not without cause, and won­der at your loues, not without pleasure: but bee your thoughts as true as your words?

Thou Cupid, that giuest the wound, knowest the heart, for as impossible it is to conceale our affections, as to resist thy force.

I know, that where mine arrowe lighteth, there breedeth loue, but shooting euerie minute a thousand shafts, I know not on whose heart they light, though they fall on no place but hearts. What are your mistresses?

Ceres maidens: mine most cruell, which shee calleth constancie.

Mine most faire, but most proud.

Mine most wittie, but most wauering.

Is the one cruell, th'other coye, the third incon­stant?

Too cruell.

Too coye.

Too fickle.

What do they thinke of Cupid?

One saith hee hath no eyes, because he hits hee knowes not whome.

Th'other, that he hath no eares, to heare those that call.

The third, that he hath no nose, for sauours are not found of louers.

All, that hee hath no taste, because sweete and sower is all one.

All, that hee hath no sence, because paines are pleasures, and pleasures paines,

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All, that he is a foolish god, working without rea­son, and suffering the repulse without regard.

Dare they blaspheme my god-head, which Ioue doth worship, Neptune reuerence, and all the gods tremble at? To make them loue, were a reuenge too gentle for Cupid: to make you hate, a recompence too smal for lo­uers. But of that anon: what haue you vsed in loue?

All things that may procure loue, giftes, words, othes, sighs, and swounings.

What said they of gifts?

That affection could not bee bought with gold,

What of words?

That they were golden blastes, out of Leaden bellowes.

What of othes?

That Iupiter neuer sware true to Iu [...].

What of sighes?

That deceipt kept a forge in the hearts of fooles.

What of swounings?

Nothing, but th [...] they wished them deathes.

What reasons gaue they, not to loue?

Womens reasons, they would not, because they would not.

Well, then shall you see Cupid requite their rea­sons with his rigour. What punishment doe you desire, that Cupid will denie?

Mine being so hard as stone, would I haue tur­ned to stone, that being to louers pitt [...]lesse, shee may to all the world be sencelesse.

Mine being so faire and so proud, would I haue turned into some flower, that shee may know beautie is as fading as grasse, which being fresh in the morning, is wi­thered before night.

Mine diuine, Cupid, whose affection nothing can make staied, let her be turned to that Bird, that [...]ueth only [Page] by ayre, and dieth if shee touch the earth, because it is constant. The bird of Paradise, Cupid, that drawing in her bowels nothing but ayre, shee may know her heart fed on nothing but ficklenesse.

Your reuenges are reasonable, and shall bee graunted. Thou Nisae, whose heart no teares could pearce, shalt with continuall waues be wasted: in stead of thy faire haire, shalt thou haue greene mos [...]e, thy face of fl [...]t, be­cause thy heart is of marble, thine eares shall bee holes for fishes, whose eares were more deafe then fishes. Thou Ce­lia whome beautie made proud, shalt haue the fruite of beautie, that is, to fade whiles it is flourishing, and to blast before it is blowne. Thy face, as faire as the Damaske rose, shall perish like the Damaske rose, the canker shall eate thee in the bud, and euerie little wind blow thee from the stalke, and then shall men in the morning weare thee in their Hats, and at night cast thee at their heeles. Thou Ni­obe, whome nothing can please (but that which most dis­pleaseth Cupid, inconstancie) shalt only breathe and sucke ayre for foode, and weare feathers for silke, beeing more wauering then ayre, and lighter then feathers. This will Cupid doe. Therefore, when next you shall behold your Ladies, doe but send a faithfull sigh to Cupid, and there shall arise a thicke mist which Proserpine shall send, and in the moment you shall be reuenged, and they chaunged, Cupid proue himselfe a great god, and they peeuish girles.

With what sacrifice shall wee shewe our selues thankfull, or how may we requite this benefit?

You shal yer [...]ly at my Temple offer true hearts, and howerly bestow all your wits in louing deuices, thinke all the time lost, that is not spent in loue, let your othes be without number, but not without truth, your words full of alluring sweetnesse, but not of broad flatterie, your at­tires neate, but not womanish, your giftes of more price for the fine deuice, then the great valewe, and yet of [Page] such valew, that the deuice seeme not beggerly, nor your selues blockish, be secrete that worketh myracles, bee constant that bring [...]th secrecie; this is all Cupid doth com­maund. Away.

And to this we all willingly consent.

Nowe what r [...]steth, but reuenge on them, that haue practised malice on vs, let mine be any thing, seeing shee will not be onely mine.

Let vs not now stand wishing, but presently seeke them out, vsing as great speed in following reuenge, as we did in pursuing our loue: certainely wee shall find them about Ceres tree, singing or sacrifizing.

But shall we not goe visit Erisicthon?

Not I, left hee eate vs, that deuoureth all things; his lookes are of force to famish: let vsin, and let all La­dies beware to offend those in spight, that loue them in honour, for when the Crow shall [...]et his foote in their eye, and the blacke Oxe tread on their foote, they shall finde their misfortunes to be equall with their deformities, and men both to loath, and laugh at them.

ACTVS QVARTVS. SCENA PRIMA.

Come, Protea, tell me, how didst thou escape from the Marchant?

Neptune, that great god, when I was ready to goe with the Marchant into the ship, turned me to a Fisher­man on the shore, with an Angle in my hand, and on my shoulder a net; the Marchant missing me, and yet fin­ding me, asked me who I was, and whether I saw not a faire maiden? I answered no? Hee marue [...]ling and raging, was forced either to lose his passage, or secke for mee a­mong the Pebbles? To make short, a good wind caused him to goe I know not whither, and me (thanks be to Nep­tune) to returne home.

Thou art happie, Protea, though thy Father bee mi [...]erable: and Neptune gracious, though Ceres cruell [...]thy escape from the Marchant, breedeth in me life, ioy, and fulnesse.

My father cannot be miserable, if Protea be hap­pie, for by selling me euerie day, hee shall neuer want meate, nor I [...] to escape. And now, Father, giue me leaue to enioy my Petulius, that on this vnfortunate shore still seekes me sorrowing.

Seeke [...]m, deare Protea; find and enioy him; and liue euer hereafter to th [...]ne owne comforts, that hast [...]ther [...]o beene the preseruer of mine.

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Aye me, behold, a Syren haunts this shore, the gods forbid shee should entangle my Petulius.

Accursed men, whose loues haue no other meane then extremities, nor hates end but mischiefe.

Vnnaturall monster, no maide that accuseth men, whose loues are built on truth, and whose hearts are remoued by curtesie: I will heare the depth of her malice.

Of all creatures most vnkind, most cunning, by whose subtilties I am halfe fish, halfe flesh, themselues be­ing neither fish nor flesh, in loue luke warme, in crueltie red hot, if they praise, they flatter; if flatter, deceiue; if deceiue, destroy.

Shee rayles at men, but seekes to intangle them, this slight is prepared for my sweete Petulius, I will with­draw my selfe close, for Petulius followeth, hee will with­out doubt be enamored of her, enchaunted hee shall not be, my charmes shall counteruaile hers, it is he hath saued my Fathers life with money, and must prolong mine with loue.

I maruaile, Protea is so farre before me, if shee runne, ile flie: sweete Protea, where art thou [...] it is Petulius calleth Protea.

Here commeth a braue youth, Now Syren, leaue out nothing that may allure, thy golden lockes, thy en­tising lookes, thy tuned voice, thy subtile speeche, thy faire promises, which neuer misled the heart of any but Vlisses.

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What diuine goddesse is this? What sweete har­monie? My heart is ra [...]ished with such tickling thoughts, and mine eyes stayed with such a bewitching beautie, that I can neither find the meanes to remoue my affection, nor to turne aside my lookes.

I yeeld to death, but with such delight, that I would not wish to liue, vnlesse it were to heare thy sweete layes.

Liue still so thou loue me: why standest thou ama­zed at the word Loue?

It is high time to preuent this mischiefe: Nowe Neptune, stand to thy promise, and let me take suddenly the shape of an olde man; so shall I marre what shee makes.

Not yet come to my selfe, or if I bee, I dare not credit mine eares. Loue thee diuine goddesse? Vouchsafe I may honour thee, and liue by the imagination I haue of thy words and worthinesse.

I am a goddesse, but a Ladie and a virgine, whose loue if thou embrace, thou shalt liue no lesse happie, then the gods in heauen.

Beleeue not this Inchauntresse (sweete youth) who retaineth the face of a Virgine, but the heart of a F [...]end, whose sweet tongue sheadeth more drops of bloud, then it vttereth sillables.

Out dottrell, whose dimme eyes cannot discerne beautie, nor doting age iudge of loue.

If thou listen to her words, thou shalt not liue to repent: for her malice is as suddaine, as her ioyes are sweete.

Thy siluer haires are not so precious, as her golden lockes, nor thy crooked age of that estimation, as her flowring youth.

That old man measureth the hot assault of loue, with the cold skir [...]hes of age.

That young cruell resembleth old Apes, who kill by culling; from the top of this Rocke whereon shee [Page] sitteth, will shee throw thee headlong into the Sea, whose song is the instrument of her witchcraft, neuer smiling but when shee meaneth to smite, and vnder the flatterie of loue, practiseth the sheading of bloud.

What are thou, which so blasphemest this diuine creature?

I am the Ghost of Vlisses, who continually houer about these places, where this Syren haunteth, to saue those which otherwise should be spoyled: stop thine eares, as I did mine, and succour the faire, but by thy folly, the most infortunate Protea.

Protea? What dost thou heare, Petulius? Where is Protea?

In this thicket, ready to hang her selfe, because thou carest not for her, that did sweare to follow: curse this hag [...] who onely hath the voice and face of a Virgine, the rest all fish and feathers, and filth; follow me, and strongly stoppe thine eares, left the second encounter make the wound incurable.

Is this a Syren, and thou Vlisses? cursed be that hel­lish carkas, and blessed be thy heauenly spirit.

I shrinke my head for shame. O Vlisses, is it not e­nough for thee to escape, but also to teach others? Sing and die, nay [...]ie, and neuer sing more.

Followe me at this doore, and out at the other.

How am I deliuered! the old man is vanished, and here for him stands Protea.

Here standeth Protea, that hath saued thy life, thou must also prolong hers: but let vs into the woods, and there I will tell thee howe I came to Vlisses, and the summe of all my fortunes, which happily will breed in thee both loue and wonder.

I will, and onely loue Protea, and neuer cease to wonder at Protea.

SCENA PRIMA.

Cupid, thou hast transformed my Nymphes and incensed me, them to shapes vnreasonable, me to anger immortall, for at one time I am both robd of mine honour and my Nymphes.

Ceres, thy Nymphes were stubborne, and thy selfe speaking so imperiously to Cupid, somewhat stately. If you aske the cause in choller, Sic volo, sic iubeo: if in curte­sie, Quae venu ex merito poena dolenda venit. They were dis­dainefull, and haue their deserts; thou Ceres, doest but gouerne the guts of men, I the hearts: thou seekest to starue Erisicthon with thy ministred famine, whome his daughter shall preserue by my vertue loue.

Thou art but a god Cupid.

No Ceres, but such a god as maketh thunder fall out of Ioues hand, by throwing thoughts into his heart, and to bee more terrified with the sparkling of a Ladies eye, then men with the flashes of his lightning: such a god that hath kindled more fire in Neptunes bosome, then the whole Sea which he is king of can quench: such power haue I, that Plutoes neuer dying fire, doth but scorch in respect of my flames. Diana hath felt some motions of loue, Vesta doth, Ceres shall.

Art thou so cruell?

To those that resist, a Lyon, to those that sub­mit, a Lambe.

Canst thou make such difference in affection, and yet shall it all be loue?

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Yea, as much as betweene sicknesse and health, though in both bee life: those that yeeld and honour Cu­pid, shall possesse sweete thoughts, and enioy pleasing wi­shes: the other shall bee tormented with vaine imaginati­ons and impossible hopes.

How may my Nymphes be restored?

If thou restore Erisicthon, they embrace their loues, and all offer sacrifice to me.

Erisicthon did in contempt hewe downe my sa­cred tree.

Thy Nymphes did in disdaine, scorne my con­stant loue.

Hee slew most cruelly my chast Fidelia, whose bloud lieth yet on the ground.

But Diana hath chaunged her bloud to freshe flowers, which are to be seene on the ground.

What honour shal he doe to Ceres? What amends can he make to Fidelia?

All Ceres groue shall he decke with Garlands, and accompt euerie tree holy; a stately monument shall hee erect, in remembraunce of Fidelia, and offer yearely sa­crifice.

What sacrifice shall I and my Nymphes offer thee? For I will doe any thing to restore my Nymphes, and honour thee.

You shall present in honour of my mother Venus, Grapes and Wheate, for Sine Cerere & Baccho friget Ve­nus. You shall suffer your Nymphes to play, sometimes to be idle, in the fauour of Cupid, for Otiasitollas, periere Cu­pidinis arcus. So much for Ceres. Thy Nymphes shall make no vowes to continue Virgins, nor vse words to disgrace loue, nor flie from oportunities that kindle affections: if they be chast, let them not bee cruell; if faire, not proud; if louing not inconstant. Crueltie is for Tygers, pride for Peacockes, inconstancie for fooles.

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Cupid, I yeeld, and they shall: but sweete Cupid, let them not bee deceiued by flatterie, which taketh the shape of affection, nor by lust, which is clothed in the habit of loue; for men haue as many slights to delude, as they haue words to speake.

Those that practise deceit, shall perish: Cupid fa­uoureth none but the faithfull.

Well, I will goe to Erisicthon, and bring him be­fore thee.

Then shall thy Nymphes recouer their fames, so as they yeeld to loue.

They shall.

ACTVS QVINTVS. SCENA PRIMA.

A straunge discourse, Protea, by which I find the gods amorous, and Virgines immortall goddesses, full of crueltie, and men of vnhappinesse.

I haue told both my Fathers misfortunes, grown by stoutnesse, and mine by weaknesse, his thwarting of Ceres, my yeelding to Neptune.

I know, Protea, that hard yron falling into fire, wax­eth soft, and then the tender heart of a Virgine being in loue, must needes melt: for what should a faire yong and wittie Ladie answere, to the sweete inticements of loue, but,

I haue heard too, that hearts of men stiffer then steele, haue by loue beene made softer then wooll, and then they crie,

Men haue often fained sighs.

And women forged teares.

Suppose I loue not.

Suppose I care not.

If men sweare and lie, howe will you trie their loues?

If women sweare they loue, how will you trie their dissembling?

The gods put wit into women.

And nature deceite into men.

I did this but to trie your patience.

Nor I, but to prooue your faith. But see, Petulius, what miraculous punishments here are for deserts in loue; this Rocke was a Nymph to Ceres, so was this Rose, so that Bird.

All chaung'd from their shapes?

All chaung'd by Cupid, because they disdain'd loue, or dissembl'd in it.

A faire warning to Protea; I hope shee will loue without dissembling.

An Item for Petulius, that hee delude not those that loue him; for Cupid can also chaunge men. Let [...].

ACTVS QVINTVS. SCENA QVARTA.

This goeth luckily, that Cupid hath promised to restore our mistresses, and Ceres, that they shall accept our loues.

I did euer imagine, that true loue would end with sweete ioyes, though [...]o was begun with deepe sighs.

But how shall we looke on them when we shal see them smile? We must, and perchaunce they will frowne.

Push, let vs indure the bending of their faire browes, and the scorching of their sparkling eyes, so that we may possesse at last the depth of their affections.

Possesse? Neuer doubt it, for Ceres hath restored Erisicthon, and therefore will perswade with them, nay, commaund them.

If it come by commaundement of Ceres, not their owne motions, I rather they should hate: for what ioye can there be in our liues, or in our loues sweetnesse, when euerie kisse shall bee sealed with a curse, and euerie kind word proceed of feare, not affection? enforcement is worse then enchantment.

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Art thou so superstitious in loue, that wast wont to be most carelesse? Let them curse all day, so I may haue but one kisse at night.

Thou art worse then Siluestris, hee not content without absolute loue, thou with indifferent.

But here commeth Ceres with Erisicthon: let vs looke demurely, for in her heart shee hates vs deepely.

ACTVS QVINTVS. SCENA VLTIMA.

I will hallow thy woods with solemne feastes, and honour all thy Nymphes with due regard.

Well, doe so, and thanke Cupid that commands, nay, thanke my foolish Nymphes, that know not how to obey; here be the louers ready at receipt: How now Gen­tlemen, what seeke you?

Nothing but what Ceres would find.

Ceres hath found those, that I would shee had lost, vaine louers.

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Ceres may lose that, that Cupid would saue, true louers.

You thinke so one of another.

Cupid knoweth so of vs all.

You might haue made me a counsell of your loues.

I madame, if loue would admit counsell.

Cupid, here is Erisicthon in his former state, restore my N [...]mphs to theirs, then shal they embrace these louers, who wither out their youth.

Honoured bee mightie Cupid, that makes me liue.

Honoured bee mightie Cupid, that makes me loue.

And me.

What, more louers yet? I thinke it bee impossible for Ceres to haue any follow her in one hower, that is not in loue in the next.

Erisicthon, bee thou carefull to honour Ceres, and forget not to please her Nymphs. The faithfull loue of thy daughter Protea, hath wrought both pittie in me to graunt her desires, and to release thy pu [...]ish [...]ents. Thou Petu­liu [...] shalt enioy thy loue, becaused know thee loyall.

Then shall Petulius be most happie.

And Protea most fortunate.

But doe you, Ramis, continue your constant loue, and you, Montanus, and you, Siluestris.

Nothing can alter our affections which encrease, while the meanes decrease, and waxe stronger in being weakened.

Then Venus, send downe that showre, wherewith thou wert wont to wath those that doe thee worship, and let loue by thy beames, bee honoured in all the world and feared, wished for, and wondred at: here are thy Nymphs, Ceres.

Whome doe I see? Nisa?

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Diuine Celia, fairer then euer shee was!

My sweete Niobe.

Why stare you, my Nymphs, as amazed triumph rather because you haue your shapes: this great god Cupid, that for your prides and follies changed, hath by my praier and promise restored you.

You see, Ladies, what it is to make a mocke of loue, or a scorne of Cupid; see where your louers stand, you must now take them for your husbands; this is my iudge­ment, this is Ceres promise.

Happie Ramis.

Happie Montanus.

Happie Siluestris.

Why speake you not, Nymphes? This must bee done, and you must yeeld.

Not I.

Nor I.

Nor I.

Not yeeld? Then shal Cupid in his furie turne you againe to sencelesse, and shamefull shapes.

Will you not yeeld? How say you Ramis? Doo your loues continue? Are your thoughts constant? & yours Montanus? And yours Siluestris?

Mine most vnspotted.

And mine.

And mine, Cupid, which nothing can alter.

And will you not yeeld, Virgins?

Not I, Cupid, neither doe I thanke thee that I am restored to life, nor feare againe to be chaunged to stone: for rather had I beene worne with the continuall beating of waues, then dulled with the importunities of men, whose open flatteries make way to their secret lustes, re­taining as little truth in their hearts, as modestie in their words; how happie was Nisa, which felt nothing, pined yet, not felt the consumption! vnfortunate wench, that now [Page] haue eares to heare their cunning lies, and eyes to behold their dissembling lookes! turne me, Cupid, againe; for loue I will not.

Miserable Ramis, vnhappie to loue, to chaunge the Ladie, accurst, and now lose her, desperate!

Nor I Cupid: well could I content my selfe to bud in the Summer, and to die in the Winter: for more good commeth of the Rose, then can by loue: when it is fresh, it hath a sweete fauour, loue a sowre taste: the Rose when it is old, loseth not his vertue; loue when it is state waxeth loathsome. The Rose distilled with fire yeeldeth sweere water: loue in extremities kindles iealousies: in the Rose how euer it be, there is sweetnes; in loue nothing but bit­ternesse. If men looke pale, and sweare, & sigh, then for­sooth women must yeeld, because men say they loue, as though our hearts were tied to their tongues, and we must chuse them by appointment, our selues feeling no affecti­on, and so haue our thoughtes bound prentises to their words: turne me againe. Yeeld I will not.

Which way shalt thou turne thy selfe, since no­thing will turne her heart? Die, Montanus, with shame and griefe, and both infinite.

Nor I Cupid: let me hang alwayes in the ayre, which I found more constant then mens words: happie Niobe, that touched not the ground where they goe, but alwayes holding thy beake in the ayre, didst neuer turne backe to behold the earth. In the heauens I saw an order­ly course, in the earth nothing but disorderly loue, and preuishnesse: turne me againe, Cupid, for yeeld I will not.

I would my selfe were stone, flower, or fowle, see­ing that Nisa hath a heart harder then stone, a face fairer then the Rose, and a mind lighter then feathers.

What haue we here? Hath punishment made you peruerse? Ceres, I vowe here by my sweete mother Venus, that if they yeeld not, I will turne them againe, not to [Page] flowers, or stones, or birds, but to monsters, no lesse fil­thie to be seene, then to bee named hatefull: they shall creepe that now stand, and be to all men odious, and bee to themselues (for the mind they shall retaine) loath­some.

My sweete Nymphs, for the honor of your sex, for the loue of Ceres, for regard of your own countrie, yeeld to loue, yeeld, my sweete Nymphes, to sweete loue.

Shall I yeeld to him that practised my destructi­on, and when his loue was hotest, caused me to bee chaun­ged to a rocke?

Nisa, the extremitie of loue is madnesse, and to be mad is to bee sencelesse, vpon that Rocke did I resolue to end my life: faire Nisa, forgiue him thy chaunge, that for himselfe prouided a harder chaunce.

Shall I yeeld to him, that made so small accompt of my beautie, that he studied how he might neuer behold it againe?

Faire Ladie, in the Rose did I alwayes behold thy colour, and resolu'd by continuall gazing to perish, which I could not doe when thou wast in thine owne shape, thou wast so coy and swift in flying from me.

Shall I yeeld to him that caused me haue wings, that I might flie farther from him.

Sweete Niobe, the farther you did seeme to bee from me, the neerer I was to my death, which to make it more speedy, wisht thee wings to she into the ayre, and my selfe lead on my heeles to sinke into the Sea.

Well, my good Nymphes, yeeld let Ceres intreat you yeeld.

I am content, so as Ramis, when hee finds me cold in loue, or hard in beliefe, hee attribute it to his owne folly; in that I retaine some nature of the Rocke, he chaunged me into.

O my sweete Nisa, bee what thou wilt, and let [Page] all thy imperfections bee excused by me, so thou but say thou louest me.

I doe.

Happie Ramis.

I consent, so as Montanus, when in the midst of his sweete delight, shall find some bitter ouerthwarts, im­pute it to his folly, in that he suffered me to be a Rose, that hath prickles with her pleasantnes, as hee is like to haue with my loue shrewdnes.

Let me bleed euerie minute with the prickles of the Rose, so I may enioy but one hower the sauour: loue, faire Celia, and at thy pleasure comfort, and confound.

I doe.

Fortunate Montanus.

I yeelded first in mind, though it bee my course last to speake: but if Siluestris find me not euer at home, let him curse himselfe that gaue me wings to flie abroad, whose feathers if his iealousie shall breake, my policie shall nip.

My sweete Niobe, flie whither thou wilt all day, so I may find thee in my nest at night, I will loue thee, and beloue thee.

I am glad you are all agreed, enioy your loues, and euerie one his delight. Thou Erisicthon art restored of Ceres, all the louers pleased by Cupid, shee ioyfull, I honoured. Now, Ladies, I will make such vnspotted loue among you, that there shall bee no suspition nor iarre, no vnkindnesse nor iealousie: but let all Ladies heere­after take heede, that they resist not loue, which worketh wonders.

I will charme my Nymphes, as they shall neither [Page] be so stately, as not to stoope to loue, nor so light as pre­sently to yeeld.

Here is none but is happie: but doe not as Hippo­manes did, when by Venus ay [...] hee wonne Atlanta, defile her Temple with vnchast desire [...] [...]nd forgot to sacrifice vowes. I will soare vp into heaue [...], to settle the loues of the gods, that in earth haue dispos'd the affections of men.

I to my haruest, whose corne is now come out of the blade, into the eare, and let all this amorous troupe to the temple of Venus, ther to consummate what Cupid hath commaunded.

Im the honour of Cupid, and Ceres, will solem­nize this feast within my house, and learne, if it be not too late, againe to loue. But you Forresters were vnkind, that in all my maladies would not visit me.

Thou knowest, Erisicthon, that louers visit none but their mistresses.

Well, I wil not take it vnkindly, since all ends in kindnesse.

Let it bee so; these louers mind nothing what we say.

Yes, we attend on Ceres.

Well, doe.