Tasso's AMINTA (AMYNTAS): Act II, Scene 2

For the cast of characters, click here. 

ACT TWO

Scene 2

Daphne, Tyrsis

 

DAPHNE     Tyrsis, as I have told you, I had noticed that Amyntas loves Sylvia; and God knows I have endeavored to persuade her and gladly continue to do so, just as you now add your prayers. But I would prefer rather to tame a young ox, a bear, or tiger, than to tame a simple girl, a girl as stupid as she is beautiful, who does not yet realize how arousing the weapons of her beauty are, and how sharp; but, with her laughter and her tears she is killing him, without knowing that she does so.

TYRSIS     But what girl, once out of swaddling, is so simple that she does not learn the art of looking beautiful and of pleasing, of tormenting by pleasing, and of knowing which weapon wounds, which one kills, and which one restores life?

DAPHNE     Who is the teacher of such an art?

TYRSIS     You jest and try me: it is she who teaches the birds to sing and fly, the fish to swim, the ram to butt, the bull to use his horns, and the peacock to spread the display of his eyed feathers.

DAPHNE     What is this great teacher's name?

TYRSIS     Daphne.

DAPHNE     Liar!

TYRSIS     And why not? Are you not qualified to teach a thousand girls? Although, to tell the truth, they do not need a teacher. Nature is their teacher, but their mothers and wet nurses also do their part.    
DAPHNE     For goodness' sake, you are both stupid and wicked. Now, to tell you truthfully, I am not certain if Sylvia is as simple as she seems in word and deed. Yesterday I saw something that puts me in doubt of it. I found her near the city in those vast fields where between ponds lies a little island. Just over a clear, tranquil pool she leaned as if to admire herself, and at the same time, to ask advice of the waters about how she should arrange her hair over her brow, and her veil over her hair, and over her veil the flowers that she held in her lap. From time to time she took a privet, then a rose, and put them up to her lovely white neck and to her rosy cheeks, comparing the colors; and then, as though glad of her victory, a smile burst forth which seemed to say: "I still conquer you. I do not wear you for my adornment, but only to shame you, so that they shall see how inferior you are to my beauty." But, while she adorned and admired herself, she chanced to look up and noticed that I had seen her; and she sprang to her feet in shame, letting her flowers fall. Meanwhile, I laughed at her blush and she blushed still more at my laugh. But because she had gathered a part of her hair and the rest had been left scattered loose, once or twice she consulted the spring with her eyes, and looked at herself almost furtively, as if fearing that I would see her look. She saw she was unkempt, yet she was pleased, for she also saw that she was still beautiful. I too saw, and fell silent.

TYRSIS     You tell me what I already knew. Did I not know it?
DAPHNE     Certainly you did. Yet I hear it said that at one time there were no shepherdesses or nymphs so spiteful; nor was I such in my girlhood. The world gets older, and as it does so, becomes more and more cruel.
TYRSIS     Perhaps in the past the city folk did not often frequent the woods and fields, nor did our country women habitually go into the city. Now they and their customs are mixed. But let us abandon this subject. Now, will you not someday make Sylvia happy, if only in your presence, that Amyntas thinks of her?
DAPHNE     I know not. Sylvia is unusually reluctant.
TYRSIS     And Amyntas is unusually cautious.
DAPHNE     A cautious lover is done for; advise him then to take another occupation, since he is so cautious. He who wishes to learn how to love must unlearn caution; he must dare, ask, plead, bother, and in the end, steal; and if this is not enough, he must then abduct her. Do you not know how woman is made? She flees, yet wants others to catch her; she denies, yet wants others to take what she denies; she fights, yet wants others to conquer her. You see, Tyrsis, I speak to you in confidence. Do not repeat what I tell you. And above all, do not put it into verse. You know that I would know how to deal with you in one way or another.
TYRSIS     You have no reason to believe that I would say anything that would displease you. But I pray you, Daphne, for the sweet memory of your fresh youth, help me to help poor Amyntas, who is wasting away.
DAPHNE     Oh, what kind spell has conjured up this fool to recall my youth, the past joy, and the present pain! What would you have me do?
TYRSIS     Knowledge and acuity you do not lack. You need only be ready and willing.
DAPHNE     Come then, I will tell you: Sylvia and I must go in a little while to the spring of Diana, where on the calm waters cool shade is made by that plane tree, inviting the huntresses to rest. There I am sure she will plunge her lovely bare limbs.
TYRSIS     And what of that?
DAPHNE     What of that? Spoken like a dullard! If you have any good sense, you shall need it.
TYRSIS     I do understand, but I do not know if he would be so bold.
DAPHNE     If not, then let him stay away and wait for someone to fetch him.
TYRSIS     He may require that; he is so timid.
DAPHNE     But don't we want to talk a little of you yourself? Come now, Tyrsis, do not you want to fall in love? You are still young enough. You are almost twenty-nine, but you remember when you were a youth. Do you want to live indolent and joyless? For only by loving does man know what joy is.
TYRSIS     The man who avoids love does not flee the delights of Venus, but reaps and enjoys the sweetness of love without the bitterness.
DAPHNE     Flavorless is that sweetness whose spice is not somewhat bitter; it satisfies too quickly.
TYRSIS     It is better to satisfy oneself than to be always famished during the meal and after.
DAPHNE     But he is not famished who possesses and likes the meal; and once tasted, it tempts him to taste again.
TYRSIS     But who possesses that which pleases him so that he has it always ready to satisfy his hunger?
DAPHNE     Who finds the treasure, if he does not seek it?
TYRSIS     It is folly to look for something that so amuses when found, but torments much more when not found. Thus you shall never see Tyrsis as lover, for Love on his throne will always disregard his tears and sighs. I have already wept and sighed enough. Let someone else do so.
DAPHNE     But you have not yet enjoyed enough.
TYRSIS     I do not wish to enjoy, if it costs so dear.
DAPHNE     Even if you do not wish, Love will force you.
TYRSIS     He cannot be forced who remains distant.
DAPHNE     But who remains distant from Love?
TYRSIS     He who fears him and flees.
DAPHNE     What use is it to flee Love, since he has wings?
TYRSIS     Love, when born, has short wings. But he can barely hold them up, and cannot spread them to fly.
DAPHNE     Man may not notice when Love is born, and when he does notice, Love is already grown and flies.
TYRSIS     He cannot notice if he has never before seen Love born.
DAPHNE     We shall see, Tyrsis, if you have the ability to flee and the sharp eyes you claim to have. I declare to you that when you become the sharp-eyed runner, I shall not move a step to help you; not a finger, a word, or a single eyelid.
TYRSIS     Cruel woman, you would have the heart to see me dead? If you really want me to love, then you love me: let us agree to make love!
DAPHNE     You mock me, and perhaps you do not deserve such a lover. Ah, now that smooth blushing face betrays you!
TYRSIS     I am not in jest; but you, with such declaration, do not accept my love. Yet that is how all women are. If you do not want me, I shall live without love.
DAPHNE     You will live happier than you ever were, o Tyrsis; for you live now in leisure, and in leisure Love always sprouts.

TYRSIS     Oh, Daphne, my lord made this leisure for me that I may worship him here, where the vast herds and flocks graze from one sea to the other, throughout the most fertile countries' cultivated lands, throughout the rugged peaks of the Apennines. He told me when he gathered me to his flock: "Tyrsis, one man may drive away wolves and thieves, or guard my walled pens; another may give out punishments and rewards to my ministers; and others may feed and tend the flocks; some have care of the wools and milk, and other the larders. You may sing, now you are at leisure." It is surely right, therefore, that I sing not of earthly Love's caprices, but of the forebears of my lord. I know not as I should call him Apollo or Jove, since in deeds and face he resembles both. My lord's forebears are worthier that Saturn or Uranus. My poetry is too coarse to exalt his dignity; yet, though it sound loud or raucous, he does not spurn it. I do not sing of him since I cannot worthily honor him except through silence and reverence; but may his altars never be without my flowers or without the sweet fumes of fragrant incense. And this simple, devoted faith will be torn from my heart only when deer feed on air, and when the Persian has drunk the Saone and the Gallican has drunk the Tigris, changing their beds and courses.

DAPHNE     Oh, you are going too high: come back down a little to our subject.
TYRSIS     The point is this: that you, in going to the spring with her, will try to soften her; and I, meanwhile, will make sure that Amyntas comes. My task will perhaps be more difficult than yours. Now go.
DAPHNE     I go, but someone else has heard our plan
TYRSIS     If I discern the face well from afar, it is Amyntas who emerges there. Yes, it is he.

END SCENE

To be continued. 



1 Thessalonians 5:17

"Pray unceasingly."

I wake and kneel I kneel to pray
My prayer be raised this rise of day

When day is risen rain or sun
This day be prayer thy work be done

When day is set this work is done
So may I rest come rest of sun

I raise my prayer at set of day
To wake come rise of sun to pray


© Leticia Austria 2013
First published in Time of Singing

Tasso's AMINTA (AMYNTAS): Act II, Scene 1

SATYR (alone)

Small is the bee, yet he makes with his small bite wounds truly deep and harmful. But what is smaller than Love, that invades and hides in every small space? Now beneath the shadow of the eyelids, now among the small waves of a blond crown, now in the dimples which a sweet smile makes in a fair cheek; yet it makes wounds so large, so mortal, and so unbearable.

Ah, me, my heart is all wounded and bloodied, and Sylvia's eyes hold a thousand of harsh Love's darts! Cruel is Love, but Sylvia is more cruel and pitiless than these woods! Oh, how your name suits you, and how perceptive was he who gave it you!

Serpents, lions, and bears hide within the green of the woods, and you hide hatred, disdain, and callousness in your comely breast, beasts worse than serpents, lions, and bears, and which cannot be tamed by supplication or gift. When I bring you fresh flowers, you refuse them, contrary girl: perhaps because you have more beautiful flowers in your lovely face. when I bring you pretty apples, you refuse them disdainfully: perhaps because you have prettier apples upon your breast. When I offer you sweet honey, you spurn it spitefully: perhaps because you have sweeter honey on your lips.

But if my poverty cannot give you anything more beautiful and sweet than that which you already possess, I give you myself. Now why, unjust girl, do you scorn and abhor my gift? I am not to be spurned, for I saw myself in the waters of the sea, when day before yesterday the winds were quiet, and it lay calm. This ruddy face, these broad shoulders, this hairy chest, these furry thighs, are signs of virility and health; and if you do not believe this, try them. What would you do with these swains whose soft, downy cheeks have just flowered and who artfully arrange their hair in perfect order? They are feminine in appearance and strength. Yet now you say that they may follow you through the woods and mountains, and fight against the bears and wild boars for you. I am not ugly, no; nor do you spurn me because of how I am made, but only because I am poor. Ah, the villages follow the example of the great cities, and truly this is the golden century, since gold alone conquers and rules.

Whoever you were, the first who learned to sell love, may your buried ashes and cold bones be damned, and may there be no shepherd or nymph who will say in passing: "Have peace." May the rain soak them and the winds stir them, and the crowd tread and wander over them with dirty feet. You made the nobility of love the object of buying and selling; you embittered that sweet happiness. Mercenary love, servant of gold, is the greatest monster, the most abominable and foul, that the earth or the waves in the sea produces.

But why do I complain in vain? Each creature uses those weapons which Nature has given him for his well-being; the hind uses his speed, the lion his claws, the slobbering boar his tusks; and beauty and grace are woman's weapons. As for me, why do I not use violence for my well-being, since Nature has made me fit to do violence and to steal? I will try: I will steal that which she denies me, ungrateful one, as reward for my love. For, as a goatherd told me a little while ago, who has observed her habits, she often goes to refresh herself in a spring, and he showed me the spot. There I plan to submerge myself among the shrubs and bushes, and wait till she comes; and when I see my chance, I will run up behind her.

How could a young girl run away from me, so fleet and powerful? She may weep and wail, use every effort to ask pity, use her beauty; but, if I can entangle my hand in her tresses, she cannot therefore flee: not before I stain my weapon with her blood in revenge.

To be continued. 

From My Big Orange Book: Wild Swans

Wild Swans by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more.
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!

Illustration from a vintage calendar