Enter Agenor, Leonidas, Merione, Beliza.
A sad Song.
Weep no more, nor sigh nor groan
Sorrow calls no time that's gone
Violets pluck'd, the sweetest raine
Makes not fresh nor grow again;
Trim thy locks, look cheerefully
Fates hidd' ends, eyes cannot see.
Joyes as winged dreams fly fast
Why should sadness longer last.
Grief is but a wound to woe
Gent'lest fair, mourne, mourne no moe.
Ag. These heavy Ayres feed sorrow in her Lady,
And nourish it too strongly; like a Mother
That spoiles her Child with giving on't the will.
A lighter Song.
Court Ladies laugh, and wonder. Here is one
That weeps because her Maiden head is gone
Whilst you do never frett, nor chafe, nor cry
But when too long it keeps you company,
Too well you know, Maids are like Towns on fire
Wasting themselves, if no man quench desire.
Weep then no more fool: a new Maidenhead
Thou suffer'st loss of, in each chast tear shed.
Bel. Some lighter note.
Leo. How like a hill of Snow she sits, and melts
Before the unchast fire of others lust!
What heart can see her passion and not break?
Ag. Take comfort gentle Madam; you know well
Even actual sins committed without will,
Are neither sins nor shame, much more compell'd;
Your honor's no whit less, your Chastity
No whit impair'd, for fair Merione
Is more a Virgin yet then all her Sex:
Alass, 'tis done; why burne these Tapers now?
Wicked and frantick Creatures joy in night.
Leo. Imagine faire Merione had dream'd
She had been ravish'd, would she sit thus then
Excruciate?
Mer. Oh.