A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 12Dodsley, Robert
General
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 12
Dodsley, Robert
English drama
HYL. This is the place where I am come to pay
My tears' first sacrifice upon this tomb
That glories in the spoils of all my wealth.
NER. Hylas, come help me; see'st thou not that Daphnis
Will ravish me?
HYL. Ha! what do I hear?
The voice of my Nerina! so she spake
When she did live; but now, alas! she's dead.
Some devil mocks me with a vision,
And voice unto it.
NER. Will you see me ravish'd
Before your face? O Hylas! O my love!
HYL. Tis she, it is no vision: hold, ravisher,
My love thou canst not take without my life.
_Enter_ MIRTILLUS, MONTANUS, CHARINUS.
MIR. What noise is this?
MON. Some shriek much like a woman's.
NER. O, help my love, Mirtillus!
MIR. Shepherd, hold;
Let go this nymph.
DAPH. Or death or victory
Shall crown my enterprise.
CHAR. Who makes this outcry?
MIR. Sir, I shall cool you, if you be so hot.
CHAR. My daughter here! was she not buried?
Away, foul spirit, away! Let's part these shepherds.
NER. O father, do you think that I am dead?
I am alive, as you are; touch me, see.
CHAR. She is alive indeed! How cam'st thou hither?
NER. Daphnis, whom you would have to be my husband,
Brought me to this supposed death and grave.
CHAR. By what strange means, Nerina?
NER. By the glass
You bid me I should take: he has confess'd
To me that it was poison'd.
CHAR. Can it be?
Can Daphnis do this? He had little reason.
DAPH. She was a fool to cry; I should ha' pleas'd her
Ere this, perhaps.
CHAR. Here, Hylas, take my daughter,
For she is thine: you, Daphnis, I did further
In all I could, till you would find a trick
To put yourself beside her.
NER. I forgive him:
For though it was ill-meant, yet did it sort
By accident unto my good.
MON. But will
Our laws permit a ravisher to live?
HYL. No, no, Montanus: let him live, and envy
Our present happiness.
DAPH. Cover, you gods,
The world in public ruin, or else show me
A way to hide my shame.
MON. What will he do?
MIR. He will go hang himself: what plots he had
To fool himself with!
MON. They that practise tricks,
Find them as jades, that throw 'em first, then kick 'em,
As his has done.
CHAR. Come, shepherds, let's away,
And solemnise these nuptials.
MIR. Stay, Montanus,
Did the king send for you?
MON. He did.
MIR. And how?
MON. The message came from Thyrsis.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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