Works of John Lyly
Endimion - The Man in the Moone,

Modern Spelling - Transcript by B.F. - copyright © 2002

Items discussed in the glossary are underlined.
Run on lines (closing open endings) are indicated by ~~~.


Scene II.1
[Enter Endymion.]

ENDYMION: O fair Cynthia; oh unfortunate Endymion!
Why was not thy birth as high as thy thoughts, or her
beauty less than heavenly? Or why are not thine honors as
rare as her beauty or thy fortunes as great as thy deserts?
Sweet Cynthia, how wouldst thou be pleased, how
possessed? Will labors, patient of all extremities, obtain
thy love? There is no mountain so steep that I will not
climb, no monster so cruel that I will not tame, no action
so desperate that I will not attempt. Desirest thou the
passions of love, the sad and melancholy moods of ... [II.1.10]
perplexed minds, the not-to-be-expressed torments of
racked thoughts? Behold my sad tears, my deep sighs, my
hollow eyes, my broken sleeps, my heavy countenance.
Wouldst thou have me vowed only to thy beauty and
consume every minute of time in thy service? Remember
my solitary life, almost these seven years. Whom have I
entertained but mine own thoughts and thy virtues? What
company have I used but contemplation? Whom have I
wondered at but thee? Nay, whom have I not contemned
for thee? Have I not crept to those on whom I might have ... [II.1.20]
trodden, only because thou didst shine upon them? Have
not injuries been sweet to me if thou vouchsafest I should
bear them? Have I not spent my golden years in hopes,
waxing old with wishing, yet wishing nothing but thy love?
With Tellus, fair Tellus, have I dissembled, using her but
as a cloak for mine affections, that others, seeing my
mangled and disordered mind, might think it were for
one that loveth me, not for Cynthia, whose perfection
alloweth no companion nor comparison.
In the midst of these distempered thoughts of mine, thou ... [II.1.30]
art not only jealous of my truth, but careless, suspicious,
and secure, which strange humor maketh my mind as
desperate as thy conceits are doubtful. I am none of those
wolves that bark most when thou shinest brightest, but that
fish -- thy fish, Cynthia, in the flood Araris -- which at thy
waxing is as white as the driven snow and at thy waning
as black as deepest darkness. I am that Endymion, sweet
Cynthia, that have carried my thoughts in equal balance
with my actions, being always as free from imagining ill
as enterprising: that Endymion whose eyes never esteemed ... [II.1.40]
anything fair but thy face, whose tongue termed nothing
rare but thy virtues, and whose heart imagined nothing
miraculous but thy government; yea, that Endymion
who, divorcing himself from the amiableness of all ladies,
the bravery of all courts, the company of all men, hath
chosen in a solitary cell to live only by feeding on thy favor,
accounting in the world, but thyself, nothing excellent,
nothing immortal. Thus mayest thou see every vein, sinew,
muscle, and artery of my love, in which there is no flattery
nor deceit, error nor art. But soft, here cometh Tellus. I ... [II.1.50]
must turn my other face to her like Janus, lest she be as
suspicious as Juno. [Enter Tellus, Floscula and Dipsas.]

TELLUS: Yonder I espy Endymion. I will seem to suspect
nothing, but soothe him, that seeing I cannot obtain the depth
of his love, I may learn the height of his dissembling. Floscula
and Dipsas, withdraw yourselves out of our sight, yet be within
the hearing of our saluting. Floscula and Dipsas withdraw.]
How now Endymion, always solitary? No company but your
own thoughts; no friend but melancholy fancies?

ENDYMION: You know, fair Tellus, that the sweet ... [II.1.60]
remembrance of your love is the only companion of my
life, and thy presence my paradise, so that I am not
alone when nobody is with me and in heaven itself when
thou art with me.

TELLUS: Then you love me, Endymion?

ENDYMION: Or else I live not, Tellus.

TELLUS: Is it not possible for you, Endymion, to dissemble?

ENDYMION: Not, Tellus, unless I could make me a woman.

TELLUS: Why, is dissembling joined to their sex inseparable,
as heat to fire, heaviness to earth, moisture to water, ... [II.1.70]
thinness to air?

ENDYMION: No, but found in their sex as common as spots
upon doves, moles upon faces, caterpillars upon sweet
apples, cobwebs upon fair windows.

TELLUS: Do they all dissemble?

ENDYMION: All but one.

TELLUS: Who is that?

ENDYMION: I dare not tell. For if I should say you, then
would you imagine my flattery to be extreme; if another,
then would you think my love to be but indifferent. ... [II.1.80]

TELLUS: You will be sure I shall take no vantage of your
words. But in sooth, Endymion, without more ceremonies:
is it not Cynthia?

ENDYMION: You know, Tellus, that of the gods we are
forbidden to dispute, because their deities come not
within the compass of our reasons; and of Cynthia we are
allowed not to talk but to wonder, because her virtues are
not within the reach of our capacities.

TELLUS: Why, she is but a woman.

ENDYMION: No more was Venus. ... [II.1.90]

TELLUS: She is but a virgin.

ENDYMION: No more was Vesta.

TELLUS: She shall have an end.

ENDYMION: So shall the world.

TELLUS: Is not her beauty subject to time?

ENDYMION: No more than time is to standing still.

TELLUS: Wilt thou make her immortal?

ENDYMION: No, but incomparable.

TELLUS: Take heed Endymion, lest like the wrestler in
Olympia that, striving to lift an impossible weight, catched ... [II.1.100]
an incurable strain, thou by fixing thy thoughts above thy
reach fall into a disease without all recure. But I see thou
art now in love with Cynthia.

ENDYMION: No Tellus, thou knowest that the stately cedar,
whose top reacheth unto the clouds, never boweth his head
to the shrubs that grow in the valley; nor ivy, that climbeth
up by the elm can ever get hold of the beams of the sun.
Cynthia I honor in all humility, whom none ought or dare
adventure to love, whose affections are immortal and
virtues infinite. Suffer me, therefore, to gaze on the moon, ... [II.1.110]
at whom, were it not for thyself, I would die with wondering.

Scene II.2
[Enter Dares, Samias, Scintilla and Favilla.]

DARES: Come, Samias, didst thou ever hear such a sighing,
the one for Cynthia, the other for Semele, and both for
moonshine in the water?

SAMIAS: Let them sigh, and let us sing. -- How say you,
gentlewomen, are not our masters too far in love?

SCINTILLA: Their tongues haply are dipped to the root
in amorous words and sweet discourses, but I think their
hearts are scarce tipped on the side with constant desires.

DARES: How say you Favilla, is not love a lurcher, that
taketh men's stomachs away that they cannot eat, their ... [II.2.10]
spleen that they cannot laugh, their hearts that they
cannot fight, their eyes that they cannot sleep; and
leaveth nothing but livers to make nothing but lovers?

FAVILLA: Away, peevish boy. A rod were better under
thy girdle than love in thy mouth. It will be a forward
cock that croweth in the shell.

DARES: Alas, good old gentlewoman, how it becometh
you to be grave!

SCINTILLA: Favilla, though she be but a spark, yet is she fire.

FAVILLA: And you Scintilla, be not much more than a spark, ... [II.2.10]
though you would be esteemed a flame.

SAMIAS: [Aside to Dares.] It were good sport to see the fight
between two sparks.

DARES: [Aside to Samias.] Let them to it, and we will warm us
by their words.

SCINTILLA: You are not angry, Favilla?

FAVILLA: That is, Scintilla, as you list to take it.

SAMIAS: That, that!

SCINTILLA: This it is to be matched with girls, who,
coming but yesterday from making of babies, would ... [II.2.30]
before tomorrow be accounted matrons.

FAVILLA: I cry your matronship mercy. Because your
pantofles be higher with cork, therefore your feet must
needs be higher in the insteps. You will be mine elder
because you stand upon a stool and I on the floor.

SAMIAS: Good, good.

DARES: [Aside to Samias.] Let them alone, and see with what
countenance they will become friends.

SCINTILLA: [To Favilla.] Nay, you think to be the wiser,
because you mean to have the last word. [II.2.40]
[The women threaten each other.]

SAMIAS: [To Dares.] Step between them lest they scratch.
[To Scintilla and Favilla.] In faith, gentlewomen, seeing we
came out to be merry, let not your jarring mar our jests.
Be friends. How say you?

SCINTILLA: I am not angry, but it spited me to see how
short she was.

FAVILLA: I meant nothing till she would needs cross me.

DARES: Then so let it rest.

SCINTILLA: I am agreed.

FAVILLA: [Weeping.] And I, yet I never took anything so ... [II.2.50]
unkindly in all my life.

SCINTILLA: [Weeping.] 'Tis I have the cause, that never
offered the occasion.

DARES: Excellent, and right like a woman.

SAMIAS: A strange sight, to see water come out of fire.

DARES: It is their property to carry in their eyes fire and
water, tears and torches, and in their mouths, honey and gall.

SCINTILLA: You will be a good one if you live. But what is
yonder formal fellow? [Enter Sir Tophas and Epiton.]

DARES: [Aside, to his friends.] Sir Tophas, Sir Tophas of ... [II.2.60]
whom we told you. If you be good wenches, make as thou
you love him and wonder at him.

FAVILLA: We will do our parts.

DARES: But first let us stand aside and let him use his garb,
for all consisteth in his gracing.
[The pages and maids-in-waiting stand aside.]


EPITON: ~~~ At hand, sir.

TOPHAS: How likest thou this martial life, where nothing
but blood besprinkleth our bosoms? Let me see, be our
enemies fat?

EPITON: Passing fat. And I would not change this life to ... [II.2.70]
be a lord, and yourself passeth all comparison; for other
captains kill and beat, and there is nothing you kill but
you also eat.

TOPHAS: I will draw out their guts out of their bellies, and
tear the flesh with my teeth, so mortal is my hate and so
eager my unstaunched stomach.

EPITON: [Aside.] My master thinks himself the valiantest
man in the world if he kill a wren, so warlike a thing he
accounteth to take away life, though it be from a lark.

TOPHAS: Epi, I find my thoughts to swell and my spirit to ... [II.2.80]
take wings, insomuch that I cannot continue within the
compass of so slender combats.

FAVILLA: [Aside.] This passeth!

SCINTILLA: [Aside.] Why, is he not mad?

SAMIAS: [Aside.] No, but a little vainglorious.


EPITON: ~~~ Sir?

TOPHAS: I will encounter that black and cruel enemy that
beareth rough and untewed locks upon his body, whose
sire throweth down the strongest walls, whose legs are as
many as both ours, on whose head are placed most horrible ... [II.2.90]
horns by nature as a defense from all harms.

EPITON: What mean you, master, to be so desperate?

TOPHAS: Honor inciteth me, and very hunger compelleth

EPITON: What is that monster?

TOPHAS: The monster ovis. I have said: let thy wits work.

EPITON: I cannot imagine it. Yet let me see. A black
enemy with rough locks -- it may be a sheep, and ovis is a
sheep. His sire so strong -- a ram is a sheep's sire, that being
also an engine of war. Horns he hath, and four legs -- so hath ... [II.2.100]
a sheep. Without doubt this monster is a black sheep. Is it
not a sheep that you mean?

TOPHAS: Thou has hit it; that monster will I kill and sup with.

SAMIAS: [To his friends.] Come, let us take him off.
[The pages and maids come forward.]
[To Sir Tophas.] Sir Tophas, all hail!

TOPHAS: Welcome children. I seldom cast mine eyes so low
as to the crowns of your heads, and therefore pardon me
that I spake not all this while.

DARES: No harm done. Here be fair ladies come to wonder at
your person, your valor, your wit, the report whereof ... [II.2.110]
hath made them careless of their own honors, to glut their
eyes and hearts upon yours.

TOPHAS: Report cannot but injure me, for that, not knowing
fully what I am, I fear she hath been a niggard in her praises.

SCINTILLA: No, gentle knight. Report hath been prodigal,
for she hath left you no equal, nor herself credit. So much
hath she told, yet no more than we now see.

DARES: [Aside.]A good wench.

FAVILLA: If there remain as much pity toward women as
there is in you courage against your enemies, then shall we ... [II.2.120]
be happy, who, hearing of your person, came to see it; and
seeing it, are now in love with it.

TOPHAS: Love me, ladies? I easily believe it, but my tough
heart receiveth no impression with sweet words. Mars may
pierce it; Venus shall not paint on it.

FAVILLA: A cruel saying.

SAMIAS: [Aside.] There's a girl.

DARES: [To Sir Tophas.] Will you cast these ladies away,
and all for a little love? Do but speak kindly.

TOPHAS: There cometh no soft syllable within my lips. ... [II.2.130]
Custom hath made my words bloody and my heart
barbarous. That pelting word 'love', how waterish it is
in my mouth! It carrieth no sound. Hate, horror, death are
speeches that nourish my spirits. I like honey, but I care not
for the bees; I delight in music, but I love not to play on the
bagpipes; I can vouchsafe to hear the voice of women, but
to touch their bodies I disdain it as a thing childish and fit
for such men as can disgest nothing but milk.

SCINTILLA: A hard heart. Shall we die for your love and find
no remedy? ... [II.2.140]

TOPHAS: I have already taken a surfeit.

EPITON: Good master, pity them.

TOPHAS: Pity them, Epi? No, I do not think that this breast
shall be pestered with such a foolish passion. What is that the
gentlewoman carrieth in a chain?

EPITON: Why, it is a squirrel.

TOPHAS: A squirrel? O gods, what things are made for money!
[The pages and maids speak confidentially to each other.]

DARES: Is not this gentleman over-wise?

FAVILLA: I could stay all day with him if I feared not to be
shent. ... [II.2.150]

SCINTILLA: Is it not possible to meet again?

DARES: ~~~ Yes, at any time.

FAVILLA: Then let us hasten home.

SCINTILLA: [Aloud.] Sir Tophas, the god of war deal better
with you than you do with the god of love.

FAVILLA: Our love we may dissemble; disgest we cannot;
but I doubt not but time will hamper you and help us.

TOPHAS: I defy time, who hath no interest in my heart. --
Come, Epi, let me to the battle with that hideous beast. Love
is pap, and hath no relish in my taste because it is not terrible.
[Exeunt Sir Tophas and Epiton.]

DARES: Indeed, a black sheep is a perilous beast. But ... [II.2.160]
let us till another time.

FAVILLA: I shall long for that time. [Exeunt all.]

Scene II.3
[Enter Endymion, near the lunary bank, and (unseen by him) Dipsas and Bagoa.]

ENDYMION: No rest, Endymion? Still uncertain how to settle
thy steps by day or thy thoughts by night? Thy truth is
measured by thy fortune, and thou art judged unfaithful
because thou art unhappy. I will see if I can beguile myself
with sleep; and, if no slumber will take hold in my eyes, yet
will I embrace the golden thoughts in my head and wish to
melt by musing, that as ebony, which no fire can scorch, is
yet consumed with sweet savors, so my heart, which cannot
be bent by the hardness of fortune, may be bruised by ... [II.3.10]
amorous desires. On yonder bank never grew anything
but lunary, and hereafter I will never have any bed but
that bank. O Endymion, Tellus was fair! But what availeth
beauty without wisdom? Nay, Endymion, she was wise. But
what availeth wisdom without honor? She was honorable,
Endymion, belie her not. Ay, but how obscure is honor
without fortune? Was she not fortunate whom so many
followed? Yes, yes, but base is fortune without majesty. Thy
majesty, Cynthia, all the world knoweth and wondereth at,
but not one in the world that can imitate it or comprehend
it. No more, Endymion. Sleep or die. Nay, die, for to sleep it ... [II.3.20]
is impossible; and yet (I know not how it cometh to pass) I
feel such a heaviness both in mine eyes and heart that I
am suddenly benumbed, yea, in every joint. It may be
weariness, for when did I rest? It may be deep melancholy,
for when did I not sigh? Cynthia, ay so, I say Cynthia!
[He falls asleep.]

DIPSAS: [Advancing.] Little dost thou know, Endymion,
when thou shalt wake, for, hadst placed thy heart as low in
love as thy head lieth now in sleep, thou mightest have
commanded Tellus, whom now instead of a mistress thou
shalt find a tomb. These eyes must I seal up by art, not ... [II.3.30]
nature, which are to be opened neither by art nor nature.
Thou that layest down with golden locks shalt not wake until
they be turned to silver hairs; and that chin, on which
scarcely appeareth soft down, shall be filled with bristles as
hard as broom. Thou shalt sleep out thy youth and flowering
time and become dry hay before thou knowest thyself green
grass, and ready by age to step into the grave when thou
wakest, that was youthful in the court when thou laidst thee
down to sleep. The malice of Tellus hath brought this to pass,
which if she could not have entreated of me by fair means, ... [II.3.40]
she would have commanded by menacing; for from her
gather we all our simples to maintain our sorceries.
[To Bagoa.] Fan with this hemlock over his face and sing
the enchantment for sleep, whilst I go and finish those
ceremonies that are required in our art. Take heed ye
touch not his face, for the fan is so seasoned that whoso it
toucheth with a leaf shall presently die. and over whom
the wind of it breatheth, he shall sleep forever. [Exit.]

BAGOA: Let me alone, I will be careful.
[She fans Endymion as she sings.]
What hap hadst thou, Endymion, to come under the hands ... [II.3.50]
of Dipsas? O fair Endymion, how it grieveth me that that
fair face must be turned to a withered skin and taste the
pains of death before it feel the reward of love! I fear Tellus
will repent that which the heavens themselves seemed to
rue. -- But I hear Dipsas coming. I dare not repine, lest she
make me pine, and rock me into such a deep sleep that I shall
not awake to my marriage. [Enter Dipsas.]

DIPSAS: How now; have you finished?

BAGOA: ~~~ Yea.

DIPSAS: Well, then, let us in, and see that you do not so much
as whisper that I did this; for if you do, I will turn thy hairs ... [II.3.60]
to adders and all thy teeth in thy head to tongues. Come
away, come away. Exeunt. (leaving Endymion).]

A Dumb Show

Music sounds. Three Ladies enter, one with a knife and a
looking glass who, by the procurement of one of the other two,
offers to stab Endymion as he sleeps, but the third wrings her
hands, lamenteth, offering still to prevent it, but dares not. At
last the first lady, looking in the glass, casts down the knife.
Exeunt the ladies. Enters an ancient man with books with three
leaves. Offers the same twice. Endymion refuseth. (The old man)
rendeth two and offers the third, where he stands a while, and
then Endymion offers to take it. Exit the man; Endymion remains
sleeping on the lunary bank, curtained off from view.

Go to Endimion Act 3

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