Love half-denied is Love half-confest.
Nisa. Niobe, her maid.
Nisa. I fear Niobe is in love.
Niobe. Not I, madam; yet must I confess, that oftentimes I have had sweet thoughts, sometimes hard conceits; betwixt both, a kind of yielding; I know not what; but certainly I think it is not love: sigh I can, and find ease in melancholy: smile I do, and take pleasure in imagination: I feel in myself a pleasing pain, a chill heat, a delicate bitterness; how to term it I know not; without doubt it may be Love; sure I am it is not Hate.
[From “Sapho and Phao,” a Comedy, by the same Author, 1601.]
Phao, a poor Ferryman, praises his condition.—He ferries over Venus; who inflames Sapho and him with a mutual passion.
Phao. Thou art a ferryman, Phao, yet a freeman; possessing for riches content, and for honours quiet. Thy thoughts are no higher than thy fortunes, nor thy desires greater than thy calling. Who climbeth, standeth on glass, and falleth on thorn. Thy heart’s thirst is satisfied with thy hand’s thrift, and thy gentle labours in the day turn to sweet slumbers in the night. As much doth it delight thee to rule thy oar in a calm stream, as it doth Sapho to sway the sceptre in her brave court. Envy never casteth her eye low, ambition pointeth always upward, and revenge barketh only at stars. Thou farest delicately, if thou have a fare to buy any thing. Thine angle is ready, when thy oar is idle; and as sweet is the fish which thou gettest in the river, as the fowl which others buy in the market. Thou needest not fear poison in thy glass, nor treason in thy guard. The wind is thy greatest enemy, whose might is withstood by policy. O sweet life! seldom found under a golden covert, often under a thatcht cottage. But here cometh one; I will withdraw myself aside; it may be a passenger.
Venus, Phao; She, as a mortal.
Venus. Pretty youth, do you keep the ferry, that conducteth to Syracusa?