ACT V

[SCENE I.][3398]

_Enter_ EVADNE _and a_ Gentleman [_of the Bedchamber_].

_Evad._ Sir, is the King a-bed?

_Gent._ Madam, an hour ago.

_Evad._ Give me the key, then, and let none be near; ’T is the King’s pleasure.

_Gent._ I understand you, madam; would ’t were mine! I must not wish good rest unto your ladyship. 5

_Evad._ You talk, you talk.

_Gent._ ’T is all I dare do, madam; but the King Will wake, and then, methinks—

_Evad._ Saving your imagination, pray, good night, sir.

_Gent._ A good night be it, then, and a long one, madam. 10 I am gone. _Exit._

_Evad._[3399] The night grows horrible; and all about me Like my black purpose. Oh, the conscience _King abed._ Of a lost virgin,[3400] whither wilt thou pull me? To what things dismal as the depth of hell 15 Wilt thou provoke me? Let no woman dare From this hour be disloyal, if her heart be flesh, If she have blood, and can fear. ’T is a daring Above that desperate fool’s that left his peace, And went to sea to fight: ’t is so many sins, 20 An age cannot repent ’em; and so great, The gods want mercy for. Yet I must through ’em: I have begun a slaughter on my honour, And I must end it there.—’A sleeps. Good Heavens! 24 Why give you peace to this untemperate beast, That hath so long transgrest you? I must kill him, And I will do it bravely: the mere joy Tells me, I merit in it. Yet I must not Thus tamely do it as he sleeps—that were To rock him to another world: my vengeance 30 Shall take him waking, and then lay before him The number of his wrongs and punishments. I ’ll shape his sins like Furies, till I waken His evil angel, his sick conscience, And then I ’ll strike him dead.—King, by your leave;— _Ties his arms to the bed._ 35 I dare not trust your strength; your grace and I Must grapple upon even terms no more. So, if he rail me not from my resolution, I shall be strong enough.—My lord the King! My lord!—’A sleeps, as if he meant to wake 40 No more.—My lord!—Is he not dead already?— Sir! My lord!

_King._ Who ’s that?

_Evad._ Oh, you sleep soundly sir!

_King._ My dear Evadne, I have been dreaming of thee; come to bed.

_Evad._ I am come at length, sir; but how welcome? 45

_King._ What pretty new device is this, Evadne? What, do you tie me to you? By my love, This is a quaint one. Come, my dear, and kiss me; I ’ll be thy Mars; to bed, my queen of love. Let us be caught together, that the gods 50 May see and envy our embraces.

_Evad._ Stay, sir, stay; You are too hot, and I have brought you physic To temper your high veins.

_King._ Prithee, to bed, then; let me take it warm; There thou shalt know the state of my body better. 55

_Evad._ I know you have a surfeited foul body; And you must bleed. [_Draws a knife._]

_King._ Bleed!

_Evad._ Ay, you shall bleed. Lie still; and, if the devil, Your lust, will give you leave, repent. This steel Comes to redeem the honour that you stole, 60 King, my fair name; which nothing but thy death Can answer to the world.

_King._ How ’s this, Evadne?

_Evad._ I am not she; nor bear I in this breast So much cold spirit to be call’d a woman: I am a tiger; I am any thing 65 That knows not pity. Stir not! If thou dost, I ’ll take thee unprepar’d, thy fears upon thee, That make thy sins look double, and so send thee (By my revenge, I will!) to look those torments Prepar’d for such black souls. 70

_King._ Thou dost not mean this; ’t is impossible; Thou art too sweet and gentle.

_Evad._ No, I am not: I am as foul as thou art, and can number As many such hells here. I was once fair, Once I was lovely; not a blowing rose 75 More chastely sweet, till thou, thou, thou, foul canker,[3401] (Stir not!) didst poison me. I was a world of virtue, Till your curst court and you (Hell bless you for ’t!) With your temptations on temptations Made me give up mine honour; for which, King, 80 I am come to kill thee.

_King._ No!

_Evad._ I am.

_King._ Thou art not! I prithee speak not these things. Thou art gentle, And wert not meant thus rugged.

_Evad._ Peace, and hear me. Stir nothing but your tongue, and that for mercy To those above us; by whose lights I vow, 85 Those blessed fires[3402] that shot to see our sin, If thy hot soul had substance with thy blood, I would kill that too; which, being past my steel, My tongue shall reach. Thou art a shameless villain; A thing out of the overcharge of nature 90 Sent, like a thick cloud, to disperse a plague Upon weak catching[3403] women; such a tyrant, That for his lust would sell away his subjects, Ay, all his Heaven hereafter!

_King._ Hear, Evadne, Thou soul of sweetness, hear! I am thy King.

_Evad._ Thou art my shame! Lie still; there ’s none about you, 96 Within your cries; all promises of safety Are but deluding dreams. Thus, thus, thou foul man, Thus I begin my vengeance! _Stabs him._

_King._ Hold, Evadne! I do command thee hold.

_Evad._ I do not mean, sir, 100 To part so fairly with you; we must change More of these love-tricks yet.

_King._ What bloody villain Provokt thee to this murder?

_Evad._ Thou, thou monster!

_King._ Oh!

_Evad._ Thou kept’st me brave[3404] at court, and whor’d me, King; 105 Then married me to a young noble gentleman, And whor’d me still.

_King._ Evadne, pity me!

_Evad._ Hell take me, then! This for my lord Amintor. This for my noble brother! And this stroke For the most wrong’d of women! _Kills him._

_King._ Oh! I die. 110

_Evad._ Die all our faults together! I forgive thee. _Exit._

_Enter two [Gentlemen] of the bed-chamber._

_1 Gent._ Come, now she ’s gone, let ’s enter; the King expects it, and will be angry.

_2 Gent._ ’T is a fine wench; we ’ll have a snap at her one of these nights, as she goes from (115) him.

_1 Gent._ Content. How quickly he had done with her! I see kings can do no more that way than other mortal people.

_2 Gent._ How fast he is! I cannot hear him breathe. 120

_1 Gent._ Either the tapers give a feeble light, Or he looks very pale.

_2 Gent._ And so he does: Pray Heaven he be well; let ’s look.—Alas! He ’s stiff, wounded, and dead! Treason, treason!

_1 Gent._ Run forth and call. 125

_2 Gent._ Treason, treason! _Exit._

_1 Gent._ This will be laid on us: Who can believe a woman could do this?

_Enter_ CLEON _and_ LYSIPPUS.

_Cleon._ How now! where ’s the traitor?

_1 Gent._ Fled, fled away; but there her woeful act Lies still. 130

_Cleon._ Her act! a woman!

_Lys._ Where’s the body?

_1 Gent._ There.

_Lys._ Farewell, thou worthy man! There were two bonds That tied our loves, a brother and a king. The least of which might fetch a flood of tears; But such the misery of greatness is, 136 They have no time to mourn; then, pardon me! Sirs, which way went she?

_Enter_ STRATO.

_Stra._ Never follow her; For she, alas! was but the instrument. News is now brought in that Melantius 140 Has got the fort, and stands upon the wall, And with a loud voice calls those few that pass At this dead time of night, delivering The innocence of this act.

_Lys._ Gentlemen, I am your King.

_Stra._ We do acknowledge it. 145

_Lys._ I would I were not! Follow, all; for this Must have a sudden stop. _Exeunt._

[SCENE II.][3405]

_Enter_ MELANTIUS, DIPHILUS, _and_ CALIANAX, _on the Walls_.

_Mel._ If the dull people can believe I am arm’d, (Be constant, Diphilus.) now we have time Either to bring our banisht honours home, Or create new ones in our ends.

_Diph._ I fear not; My spirit lies not that way.—Courage, Calianax! 5

_Cal._ Would I had any! you should quickly know it.

_Mel._ Speak to the people; thou art eloquent.

_Cal._ ‘’T is a fine eloquence to come to the gallows: You were born to be my end; the devil take you! Now must I hang for company. ’T is strange, 10 I should be old, and neither wise nor valiant.

_Enter_ LYSIPPUS, DIAGORAS, CLEON, STRATO, _and_ Guard.

_Lys._ See where he stands, as boldly confident As if he had his full command about him.

_Stra._ He looks as if he had the better cause, sir; Under your gracious pardon, let me speak it! 15 Though he be mighty-spirited, and forward To all great things, to all things of that danger Worse men shake at the telling of, yet certainly I do believe him noble, and this action Rather pull’d on than sought: his mind was ever 20 As worthy as his hand.

_Lys._ ’T is my fear, too. Heaven forgive all!—Summon him, Lord Cleon.

_Cleon._ Ho, from the walls there!

_Mel._ Worthy Cleon, welcome: We could have wisht you here, lord; you are honest.

_Cal._ (_Aside._) Well, thou art as flattering a knave, though 25 I dare not tell thee so——

_Lys._ Melantius!

_Mel._ Sir?

_Lys._ I am sorry that we meet thus; our old love Never requir’d such distance. Pray to Heaven, You have not left yourself, and sought this safety More out of fear than honour! You have lost 30 A noble master, which your faith, Melantius, Some think might have preserv’d: yet you know best.

_Cal._ [_Aside._] When time was, I was mad: some that dares fight, I hope will pay this rascal.

_Mel._ Royal young man, those tears look lovely on thee: 35 Had they been shed for a deserving one, They had been lasting monuments. Thy brother, Whilst he was good, I call’d him King, and serv’d him With that strong faith, that most unwearied valour, Pull’d people from the farthest sun to seek him, 40 And buy his friendship. I was then his soldier. But since his hot pride drew him to disgrace me, And brand my noble actions with his lust, (That never-cur’d dishonour of my sister, Base stain of whore, and, which is worse, the joy 45 To make it still so,) like myself, thus I Have flung him off with my allegiance; And stand here, mine own justice, to revenge What I have suffered in him, and this old man Wrong’d almost to lunacy.

_Cal._ Who, I? 50 You would draw me in. I have had no wrong; I do disclaim ye all.

_Mel._ The short is this. ’T is no ambition to lift up myself Urgeth me thus; I do desire again To be a subject, so I may be free: 55 If not, I know my strength, and will unbuild This goodly town. Be speedy, and be wise, In a reply.

_Stra._ Be sudden, sir, to tie All up again. What ’s done is past recall, And past you to revenge; and there are thousands 60 That wait for such a troubled hour as this. Throw him the blank.

_Lys._ Melantius, write in that Thy choice: my seal is at it. [_Throws a paper to_ MELANTIUS.]

_Mel._ It was our honours drew us to this act, Not gain; and we will only work our pardons. 65

_Cal._ Put my name in too.

_Diph._ You disclaim’d us all But now, Calianax.

_Cal._ That ’s all one; I ’ll not be hang’d hereafter by a trick: I ’ll have it in.

_Mel._ You shall, you shall.— Come to the back gate, and we ’ll call you King, 70 And give you up the fort.

_Lys._ Away, away. _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][3406]

_Enter_ ASPATIA, _in man’s apparel_, [_and with artificial scars on her face_.]

_Asp._ This is my fatal hour. Heaven may forgive My rash attempt, that causelessly hath laid Griefs on me that will never let me rest, And put a woman’s heart into my breast. It is more honour for you that I die; 5 For she that can endure the misery That I have on me, and be patient too, May live and laugh at all that you can do. _Enter_ Servant. God save you, sir!

_Ser._ And you, sir! What ’s your business?

_Asp._ With you, sir, now; to do me the fair office 10 To help me to your lord.

_Ser._ What, would you serve him?

_Asp._ I ’ll do him any service; but, to haste, For my affairs are earnest, I desire To speak with him.

_Ser._ Sir, because you are in such haste, I would 15 Be loth delay you longer: you can not.

_Asp._ It shall become you, though, to tell your lord.

_Ser._ Sir, he will speak with nobody; [But in particular, I have in charge, About no weighty matters.][3407]

_Asp._ This is most strange. 20 Art thou gold-proof? There ’s for thee; help me to him. [_Gives money._]

_Ser._ Pray be not angry, sir: I ’ll do my best. _Exit._

_Asp._ How stubbornly this fellow answer’d me! There is a vile dishonest trick in man, More than in women. All the men I meet 25 Appear thus to me, are harsh and rude, And have a subtilty in every thing, Which love could never know; but we fond women Harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts. And think all shall go so. It is unjust 30 That men and women should be matcht together.

_Enter_ AMINTOR _and his_ man.

_Amin._ Where is he?

_Ser._ There, my lord.

_Amin._ What would you, sir?

_Asp._ Please it your lordship to command your man Out of the room, I shall deliver things Worthy your hearing.

_Amin._ Leave us. [_Exit_ Servant.]

_Asp._ (_Aside._) Oh, that that shape 35 Should bury falsehood in it!

_Amin._ Now your will, sir.

_Asp._ When you know me, my lord, you needs must guess My business; and I am not hard to know; For, till the chance of war markt this smooth face With these few blemishes, people would call me 40 My sister’s picture, and her mine. In short, I am brother to the wrong’d Aspatia.

_Amin._ The wrong’d Aspatia! Would thou wert so too Unto the wrong’d Amintor! Let me kiss That hand of thine, in honour that I bear 45 Unto the wrong’d Aspatia. Here I stand That did it. Would he could not! Gentle youth, Leave me; for there is something in thy looks That calls my sins in a most hideous form Into my mind; and I have grief enough 50 Without thy help.

_Asp._ I would I could with credit! Since I was twelve years old, I had not seen My sister till this hour I now arriv’d: She sent for me to see her marriage,— A woful one! but they that are above 55 Have ends in everything. She us’d few words, But yet enough to make me understand The baseness of the injuries you did her. That little training I have had is war: I may behave myself rudely in peace; 60 I would not, though. I shall not need to tell you I am but young, and would be loth to lose Honour, that is not easily gain’d again. Fairly I mean to deal: the age is strict For single combats; and we shall be stopt, 65 If it be publisht. If you like your sword, Use it; if mine appear a better to you, Change; for the ground is this, and this the time, To end our difference. [_Draws._]

_Amin._ Charitable youth, If thou be’st such, think not I will maintain 70 So strange a wrong: and, for thy sister’s sake, Know, that I could not think that desperate thing I durst not do; yet, to enjoy this world. I would not see her; for, beholding thee, I am I know not what. If I have aught 75 That may content thee, take it, and begone. For death is not so terrible as thou; Thine eyes shoot guilt into me.

_Asp._ Thus, she swore, Thou wouldst behave thyself, and give me words That would fetch tears into my eyes; and so 80 Thou dost indeed. But yet she bade me watch Lest I were cozen’d; and be sure to fight Ere I return’d.

_Amin._ That must not be with me. For her I ’ll die directly; but against her Will never hazard it.

_Asp._ You must be urg’d. 85 I do not deal uncivilly with those That dare to fight; but such a one as you Must be us’d thus. _She strikes him._

_Amin._ I prithee, youth, take heed. Thy sister is a thing to me so much 90 Above mine honour, that I can endure All this—Good gods! a blow I can endure; But stay not, lest thou draw a timeless [3408] death Upon thyself.

_Asp._ Thou art some prating fellow; One that hath studied out a trick to talk, 95 And move soft hearted people; to be kickt. _She kicks him._ Thus to be kickt.—(_Aside._) Why should he be so slow In giving me my death?

_Amin._ A man can bear No more, and keep his flesh. Forgive me, then! I would endure yet, if I could. Now show [_Draws._] 100 The spirit thou pretend’st, and understand Thou hast no hour to live. _They fight_; [ASPATIA _is wounded_.] What dost thou mean? Thou canst not fight: the blows thou mak’st at me Are quite besides; and those I offer at thee, Thou spread’st thine arms, and tak’st upon thy breast, 105 Alas, defenceless!

_Asp._ I have got enough. And my desire. There is no place so fit For me to die as here. [_Falls._]

_Enter_ EVADNE, _her hands bloody_, _with a knife_.

_Evad._ Amintor, I am loaden with events, That fly to make thee happy; I have joys, 110 That in a moment can call back thy wrongs, And settle thee in thy free state again. It is Evadne still that follows thee, But not her mischiefs. 114

_Amin._ Thou canst not fool me to believe again; But thou hast looks and things so full of news, That I am stay’d.

_Evad._ Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze, Let thine eyes loose, and speak. Am I not fair? Looks not Evadne beauteous with these rites now? 120 Were those hours half so lovely in thine eyes When our hands met before the holy man? I was too foul inside to look fair then: Since I knew ill, I was not free till now.

_Amin._ There is presage of some important thing 125 About thee, which, it seems, thy tongue hath lost. Thy hands are bloody, and thou hast a knife.

_Evad._ In this consists thy happiness and mine. Joy to Amintor! for the King is dead.

_Amin._ Those have most power to hurt us, that we love; 130 We lay our sleeping lives within their arms. Why, thou hast rais’d up mischief to his height, And found one to out-name[3409] thy other faults; Thou hast no intermission of thy sins But all thy life is a continued ill. 135 Black is thy colour now, disease thy nature. Joy to Amintor! Thou hast toucht a life, The very name of which had power to chain Up all my rage, and calm my wildest wrongs.

_Evad._ ’T is done; and, since I could not find a way 140 To meet thy love so clear as through his life, I cannot now repent it.

_Amin._ Couldst thou procure the gods to speak to me, To bid me love this woman and forgive, 144 I think I should fall out with them. Behold, Here lies a youth whose wounds bleed in my breast, Sent by a violent fate to fetch his death From my slow hand! And, to augment my woe, You now are present, stain’d with a king’s blood Violently shed. This keeps night here, 150 And throws an unknown wilderness[3410] about me.

_Asp._ Oh, oh, oh!

_Amin._ No more; pursue me not.

_Evad._ Forgive me, then, And take me to thy bed: we may not part. [_Kneels._]

_Amin._ Forbear, be wise, and let my rage go this way. 155

_Evad._ ’T is you that I would stay, not it.

_Amin._ Take heed; It will return with me.

_Evad._ If it must be, I shall not fear to meet it. Take me home.

_Amin._ Thou monster of cruelty, forbear!

_Evad._ For Heaven’s sake look more calm! Thine eyes are sharper 160 Than thou canst make thy sword.

_Amin._ Away, away! Thy knees are more to me than violence. I am worse than sick to see knees follow me For that I must not grant. For God’s sake, stand.

_Evad._ Receive me, then.

_Amin._ I dare not stay thy language. 165 In midst of all my anger and my grief, Thou dost awake something that troubles me, And says, I lov’d thee once. I dare not stay; There is no end of woman’s reasoning. _Leaves her._

_Evad._ [_rising._] Amintor, thou shalt love me now again. 170 Go; I am calm. Farewell, and peace for ever! Evadne, whom thou hat’st, will die for thee. _Stabs herself._

_Amin._ (_returning._) I have a little human nature yet, That ’s left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand.

_Evad._ Thy hand was welcome, but it came too late. 175 Oh, I am lost! the heavy sleep makes haste. _She dies._

_Asp._ Oh, oh, oh!

_Amin._ This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feel A stark affrighted motion in my blood. My soul grows weary of her house, and I 180 All over am a trouble to myself. There is some hidden power in these dead things, That calls my flesh unto ’em; I am cold. Be resolute and bear ’em company. There ’s something yet, which I am loth to leave: 185 There ’s man enough in me to meet the fears That death can bring; and yet would it were done! I can find nothing in the whole discourse Of death, I durst not meet the boldest way; Yet still, betwixt the reason and the act, 190 The wrong I to Aspatia did stands up; I have not such another fault to answer. Though she may justly arm herself with scorn And hate of me, my soul will part less troubled, When I have paid to her in tears my sorrow, 195 I will not leave this act unsatisfied, If all that ’s left in me can answer it.

_Asp._ Was it a dream? There stands Amintor still; Or I dream still.

_Amin._ How dost thou? speak; receive my love and help. 200 Thy blood climbs up to his old place again; There ’s hope of thy recovery.

_Asp._ Did you not name Aspatia?

_Amin._ I did.

_Asp._ And talkt of tears and sorrow unto her?

_Amin._ ’T is true; and, till these happy signs in thee 205 Did stay my course, ’t was thither I was going.

_Asp._ Thou art there already, and these wounds are hers. Those threats I brought with me sought not revenge, But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand: I am Aspatia yet. 210

_Amin._ Dare my soul ever look abroad again?

_Asp._ I shall sure live, Amintor; I am well; A kind of healthful joy wanders within me.

_Amin._ The world wants lives to excuse thy loss; 214 Come, let me bear thee to some place of help.

_Asp._ Amintor, thou must stay; I must rest here; My strength begins to disobey my will. How dost thou, my best soul? I would fain live Now, if I could. Wouldst thou have lov’d me, then?

_Amin._ Alas, 220 All that I am ’s not worth a hair from thee!

_Asp._ Give me thy hand; mine hands grope up and down. And cannot find thee; I am wondrous sick. Have I thy hand, Amintor?

_Amin._ Thou greatest blessing of the world, thou hast. 225

_Asp._ I do believe thee better than my sense. Oh, I must go! farewell! _Dies._

_Amin._ She swoons.[3411]—Aspatia!—Help! for God’s sake, water, Such as may chain life ever to this frame!— Aspatia, speak!—What, no help yet? I fool! I ’ll chafe her temples. Yet there ’s nothing stirs. 231 Some hidden power tell her, Amintor calls, And let her answer me!—Aspatia, speak!— I have heard, if there be any life, but bow The body thus, and it will show itself. 235 Oh, she is gone! I will not leave her yet. Since out of justice we must challenge nothing, I ’ll call it mercy, if you ’ll pity me, You heavenly powers, and lend for some few years The blessed soul to this fair seat again! 240 No comfort comes; the gods deny me too. I ’ll bow the body once again.—Aspatia!— The soul is fled for ever; and I wrong Myself, so long to lose her company. 244 Must I talk now? Here ’s to be with thee, love! _Kills himself._

_Re-enter_ Servant.

_Serv._ This is a great grace to my lord, to have the new king come to him. I must tell him he is ent’ring.—Oh, God!—Help, help!

_Enter_ LYSIPPUS, MELANTIUS, CALIANAX, CLEON, DIPHILUS, _and_ STRATO.

_Lys._ Where ’s Amintor?

_Stra._ Oh, there, there!

_Lys._ How strange is this!

_Cal._ What should we do here? 250

_Mel._ These deaths are such acquainted things with me, That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand Stiff here for ever!—Eyes, call up your tears! This is Amintor. Heart, he was my friend; Melt! now it flows.—Amintor, give a word 255 To call me to thee.

_Amin._ Oh!

_Mel._ Melantius calls his friend Amintor. Oh, Thy arms are kinder to me than thy tongue! Speak, speak! 260

_Amin._ What?

_Mel._ That little word was worth all the sounds That ever I shall hear again.

_Diph._ Oh, brother, Here lies your sister slain! You lose yourself In sorrow there.

_Mel._ Why, Diphilus, it is 265 A thing to laugh at, in respect of this. Here was my sister, father, brother, son; All that I had.—Speak once again; what youth Lies slain there by thee?

_Amin._ ’T is Aspatia. My last is said. Let me give up my soul 270 Into thy bosom. [_Dies._]

_Cal._ What ’s that? What ’s that? Aspatia!

_Mel._ I never did Repent the greatness of my heart till now; It will not burst at need. 274

_Cal._ My daughter dead here too! And you have all fine new tricks to grieve; but I ne’er knew any but direct crying.

_Mel._ I am a prattler: but no more. [_Offers to stab himself._]

_Diph._ Hold, brother!

_Lys._ Stop him.

_Diph._ Fie, how unmanly was this offer in you! 280 Does this become our strain?[3412]

_Cal._ I know not what the matter is, but I am grown very kind, and am friends with you all now. You have given me that among you will kill me quickly; but I ’ll go home, and live as long as I can. [_Exit._] 286

_Mel._ His spirit is but poor that can be kept From death for want of weapons. Is not my hands a weapon sharp enough To stop my breath? or, if you tie down those, I vow, Amintor, I will never eat, 291 Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that That may preserve life! This I swear to keep.

_Lys._ Look to him, though, and bear those bodies in. May this a fair example be to me 295 To rule with temper; for on lustful kings Unlookt-for sudden deaths from God are sent; But curst is he that is their instrument. [_Exeunt._]

THE FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS

BY JOHN FLETCHER

[DRAMATIS PERSONAE

PERIGOT. THENOT. DAPHNIS. ALEXIS. Sullen Shepherd. Old Shepherd. Priest of Pan. God of the River. Satyr. Shepherds.

CLORIN. AMORET. AMARILLIS. CLOE. Shepherdesses.

SCENE.—_Thessaly_.]

TO THE READER

If you be not reasonably assur’d of your knowledge in this kind of poem, lay down the book, or read this, which I would wish had been the prologue. It is a pastoral tragi-comedy, which the people seeing when it was play’d, having ever had a singular gift in defining, concluded to be a play of country hired shepherds in gray cloaks, with curtail’d dogs in strings, sometimes laughing together, and sometimes killing one another; and, missing Whitsun-ales, cream, wassail, and morris-dances, began to be angry. In their error I would not have you fall, lest you incur their censure.[3413] Understand, therefore, a pastoral to be a representation of shepherds and shepherdesses with their actions and passions, which must be such as may agree with their natures, at least not exceeding former fictions and vulgar traditions; they are not to be adorn’d with any art, but such improper ones as nature is said to bestow, as singing and poetry; or such as experience may teach them, as the virtues of herbs and fountains, the ordinary course of the sun, moon, and stars, and such like. But you are ever to remember shepherds to be such as all the ancient poets, and modern, of understanding, have received them; that is, the owners of flocks, and not hirelings. A tragi-comedy is not so called in respect of mirth and killing, but in respect it wants deaths, which is enough to make it no tragedy, yet brings some near it, which is enough to make it no comedy, which must be a representation of familiar people, with such kind of trouble as no life be question’d;[3414] so that a god is as lawful in this as in a tragedy, and mean people as in a comedy. Thus much I hope will serve to justify my poem, and make you understand it; to teach you more for nothing, I do not know that I am in conscience bound.

JOHN FLETCHER.