Thyr. And must I,
When she is gone, whose sun-like eyes did cherish
An everlasting summer in my life,
Feel any spring of joy to comfort me?
No, father, grief with me is best in season.
Mon. But whilst you mourn thus, who looks to your flock?
Thyr. All as the shepherd is, such be his flocks,
So pine and languish they, as in despair
He pines and languishes; their fleecy locks
Let hang disorder'd, as their master's hair,
Since she is gone that deck'd both him and them.
And now what beauty can there be to live,
When she is lost that did all beauty give?
Mon. But yet, methinks, for one that is a stranger,
Scarce known to any here, but by her name,
These plaints are overmuch. Besides, there are
In fruitful Arcady as fair as she:
I'm sure more rich and wise: make out of them
A choice. Nerina is as fair as she,
Dorinda's flocks are more than Sylvia's,
And carry on their backs more wool than hers.
Thyr. Let such base peasants as the gods do hate
Admire their wealth and them for what they have,
Their bodies' and their souls material
Alike of drossy substance are compounded,
And can contemplate nothing but the earth.
No, Sylvia, whom some better god, perhaps
For the reward of my well-tuned pipe,
Sent down to me, made up of air and fire;
Though since, because I knew not how to use
With fair respect a gift so great as she,
Has justly reft her from me,—is so much,
So great a part of me, that in her absence
Amidst my grief I feel some little joy,
To see how much of me each minute wasteth,
And gives me hope, that when I shall dissolve
This earthly substance, and be pure as she
(For sure the gods have ta'en her undefil'd),
I may enjoy her looks, and though it be
Profane to touch a hallowed thing like her,
I may adore her yet, and recompense
With my religion the proud thoughts I had
Once to enjoy her.
Mon. See how fond you are
T'embrace a shadow, and to leave the substance!
The love of Hylas to Nerina has
More hopes than yours; though she be young and coy,
Yet whilst Nerina is and Hylas too,
One time or other they may both have joy.
Thyr. May they prove happy in each other's love,
And nothing please, but what each other do;
For so liv'd Thyrsis and his Sylvia:
Whilst Sylvia was, and Thyrsis was her love.
Whatever Thyrsis pip'd, pleas'd Sylvia;
Thyrsis admir'd whatever Sylvia sung,
And both their joys were equal or but one.
Well, I can now remember (and it is
Some comfort to remember what I moan)
That, when our loves began, how first I gaz'd
On her, and she was pleas'd that I should look,
Till greedily I had devour'd the hook.
Love gave me courage then to speak my thoughts,
And gave her pity to receive my words,
They link'd our hearts together: from that time,
Whene'er she saw me strike the furious boar,
Though then my case she ru'd, and sigh'd full oft,
Yet was she pleas'd to see my victory,
And I receiv'd my vigour from her eye.
Then would she make me chaplets of the best
And choicest flowers, to adorn my head:
Which when I wore, methought I did then grasp
The empire of the world. But what of that?
The more I then enjoy'd of heavenly bliss,
The more my present grief and passion is.
Mon. Well, Thyrsis, since my words do but renew
The story of your grief, I'll leave to use
Persuasions to you; for 'tis time, I see,
And not my words, must cure your malady. [Exit.
Thyr. That time must put a period to my life,
Or else it never will unto my grief:
Come, boy, and under this same hanging bough
The note, which thou attemper'st to my words,
Sing, and be happier than thy master, boy.