• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Thou’lt not be so, I hope.

Serv. By my Life, Mistress, —

Viol. Swear not; I credit Thee. But pr’ythee tho’,

Take Heed, thou dost not fail: I do not doubt Thee:

Yet I have trusted such a serious Face,

And been abused too.

Serv. If I fail your Trust, —

Viol. I do thee Wrong to hold thy Honesty

At Distance thus: Thou shalt know all my Fortunes.

Get me a Shepherd’s Habit.

Serv. Well; what else?

Viol. And wait me in the Evening, where I told thee;

There Thou shalt know my farther Ends. Take Heed—

Serv. D’ye fear me still?

Viol. No; This is only Counsel:

My Life and Death I have put equally

Into thy Hand: Let not Rewards, nor Hopes,

Be cast into the Scale to turn thy Faith.

Be honest but for Virtue’s sake, that’s all;

He, that has such a Treasure, cannot fall. [Exeunt.

The End of the Third Act.

Act IV. Scene I.

Scene, A Wide Plain, with a Prospect of Mountains at a Distance.

Enter Master of the Flocks, three or four Shepherds, and Violante in Boy’s Cloaths.

1 Shep. Well, he’s as sweet a Man, Heav’n comfort him! as ever these Eyes look’d on.

2 Shep. If he have a Mother, I believe, Neighbours, she’s a Woe-woman for him at this Hour.

Mast. Why should he haunt these wild unpeopled Mountains,

Where nothing dwells but Hunger, and sharp Winds?

1 Shep. His Melancholy, Sir, that’s the main Devil does it. Go to, I fear he has had too much foul Play offer’d him.

Mast. How gets he Meat?

2 Shep. Why, now and then he takes our Victuals from us, tho’ we desire him to eat; and instead of a short Grace, beats us well and soundly, and then falls to.

Mast. Where lies He?

1 Shep. Ev’n where the Night o’ertakes him.

2 Shep. Now will I be hang’d, an’ some fair-snouted skittish Woman, or other, be not at the End of this Madness.

1 Shep. Well, if he lodg’d within the Sound of us, I knew our Musick would allure him. How attentively he stood, and how he fix’d his Eyes, when your Boy sung his Love-Ditty. Oh, here he comes again.

Mast. Let him alone; he wonders strangely at us.

1 Shep. Not a Word, Sirs, to cross him, as you love your Shoulders.

2 Shep. He seems much disturb’d: I believe the mad Fit is upon him.

Enters Julio.

Jul. Horsemanship!— Hell— Riding shall be abolish’d:

Turn the barb’d Steed loose to his native Wildness;

It is a Beast too noble to be made

The Property of Man’s Baseness.— What a Letter

Wrote he to’s Brother? What a Man was I?

Why, Perseus did not know his Seat like me;

The Parthian, that rides swift without the Rein,

Match’d not my Grace and Firmness. – – – Shall this Lord

Dye, when Men pray for him? Think you ’tis meet?

1 Shep. I don’t know what to say: Neither I, nor all the Confessors in Spain, can unriddle this wild Stuff.

Jul. I must to Court! be usher’d into Grace,

By a large List of Praises ready penn’d!

O Devil! What a venomous World is this,

When Commendations are the Baits to Ruin!

All these good Words were Gyves and Fetters, Sir,

To keep me bolted there: while the false Sender

Play’d out the Game of Treach’ry.— Hold; come hither;

You have an Aspect, Sir, of wond’rous Wisdom,

And, as it seems, are travell’d deep in Knowledge;

Have you e’er seen the Phoenix of the Earth,

The Bird of Paradise?

2 Shep. In Troth, not I, Sir.

Jul. I have; and known her Haunts, and where she built

Her spicy Nest: ’till, like a credulous Fool,

I shew’d the Treasure to a Friend in Trust,

And he hath robb’d me of her. — Trust no Friend:

Keep thy Heart’s Counsels close. — Hast thou a Mistress?

Give her not out in Words; nor let thy Pride

Be wanton to display her Charms to View;

Love is contagious: and a Breath of Praise,

Or a slight Glance, has kindled up its Flame,

And turn’d a Friend a Traytor. — ’Tis in Proof;

And it has hurt my Brain.

1 Shep. Marry, now there is some Moral in his Madness, and we may profit by it.

Mast. See, he grows cool, and pensive.

Go towards him, Boy, but do not look that way.

Viol. Alas! I tremble —

Jul.Oh, my pretty Youth!

Come hither, Child; Did not your Song imply

Something of Love?

1 Shep.