Was ever man thus tormented with love?
Ye little birds that sit and sing
Amidst the shady vallies,
And see how Phillis sweetly walks,
Within her garden-allies;
Go, pretty birds, about her bower;
Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower;
Ah, me! methinks I see her frown!
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Go, tell her, through your chirping bills,
As you by me are bidden,
To her is only known my love,
Which from the world is hidden.
Go, pretty birds, and tell her so;
See that your notes strain not too low,
For still, methinks, I see her frown.
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Go, tune your voices' harmony,
And sing, I am her lover;
Strain loud and sweet, that ev'ry note
With sweet content may move her.
And she that hath the sweetest voice,
Tell her I will not change my choice;
Yet still, methinks, I see her frown.
Ye pretty wantons, warble.
Oh, fly! make haste! see, see, she falls
Into a pretty slumber.
Sing round about her rosy bed,
That waking, she may wonder.
Say to her, 'tis her lover true
That sendeth love to you, to you;
And when you hear her kind reply,
Return with pleasant warblings.
Avaunt, delusion! thoughts cannot win my love:
Love, though divine, cannot divine my thoughts:
Why, to the air, then, do I idle here
Such heedless words, far off, and ne'er the near.
Hie thee, young Frank, to her that keeps thy heart ;
Then let sweet words thy sweeter thoughts impart.
But stay, here come my melancholy brothers.
I'll step aside and hear their conference.
Enter ANTHONY and FERDINAND, severally.
Anth. What, is my brother Ferdinand so near? He is my elder; I must needs give place; Anthony, stand by, and list what he doth say; Haste calls me hence; yet I will brook delay.
Ferd. Shall I exclaim 'gainst fortune and mishap?
Or rail on Nature, who first framéd me?
Is it hard Chance that keeps me from my love?
Or is this heap of loath'd deformity
The cause that breeds a blemish in her eye?
I know not what to think, or what to say,
Only one comfort yet I have in store,
Which I will practise, tho' I ne'er try more.
Anth. Oh, for to hear that comfort I do long;
I'll turn it to a strain to right my wrong.
Ferd. I have a brother, rival in my love;
I have a brother hates me for my love;
I have a brother vows to win my love;
That brother too he hath incenst my love,
To gain the beauty of my dearest love;
What hope remains, then, to enjoy my love?
Anth. I am that brother rival in his love;
I am that brother hates him for his love;
Not his, but mine; and I will have that love,
Or never live to see him kiss my love.
What thou erst said, I am that man alone
That will depose you, brother, from love's throne;
I am that man, tho' you my elder be,
That will aspire beyond you one degree.
Ferd. I have no means of private conference;
So narrowly pursues my hinderer.
No sooner am I enter'd the sweet court
Of lovely rest, my love's rich mansión,
But rival love to my affection
Follows me, as a soon-enforcéd straw
The drawing virtue of a sable jet.
This, therefore's, my determination-
Within the close womb of a sealed paper
Will I write down, in bloody characters,
The burning zeal of my affection;
And, by some trusty messenger or other,
Convey the same into my love's own hand:
So shall I know her resolution,
And how she fancies my affection.
Anth. Yet, subtle fox, I may perchance to cross you.
Brother, well met. Whither away so fast?
Ferd. About affairs that do require some haste.
Anth. 'Tis well done, brother; you still seek for gain.
Ferd. But you would reap the harvest of my pain.
Farewell, good brother! I must needs be gone:
I have serious business now to think upon.
Yet, for I fear my brother Anthony,
I'll step aside, and stand awhile unseen;
I may perchance descry which way he goes;
Thus, policy must work 'twixt friends and foes.
Anth. So he is gone. I scarcely trust him neither; For 'tis his custom, like a sneaking fool,
To fetch a compass of a mile about,
And creep where he would be. Well, let him pass.
I heard him say, that since by word of mouth
He could not purchase his sweet mistress' favour,
He would endeavour what his wit might do
By writing, and by tokens. Oh, 'tis good,
Writing with ink! Oh, no, but with his blood!
Well, so much for that. Now I know his mind,
I do intend not to be far behind.
He'll send a letter; I will write another:
Do what you can, I'll be before you, brother.
I'll intercept his letter by the way,
And, as time serves, the same I will bewray :
Mine being made, a porter I'll procure,
That shall convey that heart-enticing lure.
About it, then. My letter shall be writ,
Though not with blood, yet with a reaching wit.
Ferd. And shall it so, good brother Anthony?
Were
you so near when we in secret talk'd?
Will't ne'er be otherwise? will you dog me still?
Welcome, sweet Frank! such news I have to tell,
As cannot chuse but like thee passing well.
Thou know'st my love to Phillis?
Frank. Brother, say on.
Ferd. Thou likewise art acquainted with
And I do build upon your secrecy.
Frank. 'Sblood, and I thought you did not, I'd retire.
Brother, you know I love you as my life.
Ferd. I dare profess as much, and thereupon
Make bold to crave thy furtherance, in a thing
Concerns me much.
Frank. Out with it, brother;
If I shrink back, repose trust in some other.
Ferd. Then thus it is. My brother, all in haste,
Is gone, to write a letter to my love;
And thinks thereby to cross me in my suit,
Sending it by a porter to her hand.
If ever, therefore, thou wilt aid thy brother,
Help me in this, who seeks help from no other.
Frank. By the red lip of that dainty saint, I'll aid thee all
Then, brother, I'll provide
A porter's habit, like in ev'ry point.
Will you
but so much humble your estate
To put yourself in that so base attire,
And, like so mean a person, wait his coming,
About his door, which will not be o'er long,
Thou shalt for ever bind me to thy love.
Frank. Brother, 'tis a base task, by this light;
But to procure a further force of love,
I'll do't; i'faith, I will, sweet Ferdinand.
About it then. Provide thee some disguise;
But see you stay not long in any wise.
Here shall you find me. Go, despatch!
Ferd. For this I'll love thee everlastingly.
Frank. Mean time I'll cross your love, and if I can.
Here's no villainy betwixt us three brothers:
My brother Ferdinand he would have the wench;
And Anthony he hopes to have her too.
Then what may I? Faith, hope well, as they do.
Neither of them know that I love the maid,
Yet by this hand I am half mad for love.
I know not well what love is; but 'tis sure,
I'll die if I have her not. Therefore,
Good brothers mine, beguile you one another,
Till
you be both gull'd by your younger brother.
|