Chapter II: Part 2

_Clo_. _Alexis_, let us rest here, if the place Be private, and out of the common trace Of every Shepherd: for I understood This Night a number are about the Wood: Then let us chuse some place, where out of sight We freely may enjoy our stoln delight.

_Alex_. Then boldly here, where we shall ne're be found, No Shepherds way lies here, 'tis hallow'd ground: No Maid seeks here her strayed Cow, or Sheep, Fairies, and Fawns, and Satyrs do it keep: Then carelesly rest here, and clip and kiss, And let no fear make us our pleasures miss.

_Clo_. Then lye by me, the sooner we begin, The longer ere the day descry our sin.

_Sull_. Forbear to touch my Love, or by yon flame, The greatest power that Shepherds dare to name, Here where thou sit'st under this holy tree Her to dishonour, thou shalt buried be.

_Alex_. If _Pan_ himself, should come out of the lawns, With all his Troops of Satyrs and of Fawns, And bid me leave, I swear by her two eyes, A greater Oath than thine, I would not rise.

_Sull_. Then from the cold Earth never shalt thou move, But lose at one stroke both thy Life and Love.

_Clo_. Hold gentle Shepherd.

_Sull_. Fairest Shepherdess, Come you with me, I do not love you less Than that fond man, that would have kept you there From me of more desert.

_Alex_. O yet forbear To take her from me; give me leave to dye By her.

[_The Satyr enters, he runs one way, and she another_.

_Sat_. Now whilst the Moon doth rule the Skie, And the Stars, whose feeble light Give a pale Shadow to the night, Are up, great _Pan_ commanded me To walk this Grove about, whilst he In a corner of the Wood, Where never mortal foot hath stood, Keeps dancing, musick, and a feast To entertain a lovely Guest, Where he gives her many a Rose, Sweeter than the breath that blows The leaves; Grapes, Berries of the best, I never saw so great a feast. But to my Charge: here must I stay, To see what mortals lose their way, And by a false fire seeming bright, Train them in and leave them right. Then must I watch if any be Forcing of a Chastitie: If I find it, then in haste Give my wreathed horn a Blast, And the Fairies all will run, Wildly dancing by the Moon, And will pinch him to the bone, Till his lustful thoughts be gone.

_Alex_. O Death!

_Sat_. Back again about this ground, Sure I hear a mortal sound; I bind thee by this powerful Spell, By the Waters of this Well, By the glimmering Moon beams bright, Speak again, thou mortal wight.

_Alex_. Oh!

_Sat_. Here the foolish mortal lies, Sleeping on the ground: arise. The poor wight is almost dead, On the ground his wounds have bled, And his cloaths foul'd with his blood: To my Goddess in the Wood Will I lead him, whose hands pure, Will help this mortal wight to cure.

_Enter_ Cloe _again_.

_Clo_. Since I beheld yon shaggy man, my Breast Doth pant, each bush, methinks, should hide a Beast: Yet my desire keeps still above my fear, I would fain meet some Shepherd, knew I where: For from one cause of fear I am most free, It is impossible to ravish me, I am so willing. Here upon this ground I left my Love all bloody with his wound; Yet till that fearful shape made me be gone, Though he were hurt, I furnisht was of one, But now both lost. _Alexis_, speak or move, If thou hast any life, thou art yet my Love. He's dead, or else is with his little might Crept from the Bank for fear of that ill Spright. Then where art thou that struck'st my love? O stay, Bring me thy self in change, and then I'll say Thou hast some justice, I will make thee trim With Flowers and Garlands that were meant for him; I'll clip thee round with both mine arms, as fast As I did mean he should have been embrac'd: But thou art fled. What hope is left for me? I'll run to _Daphnis_ in the hollow tree, Whom I did mean to mock, though hope be small, To make him bold; rather than none at all, I'll try him; his heart, and my behaviour too Perhaps may teach him what he ought to do. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ Sullen Shepherd.

_Sul_. This was the place, 'twas but my feeble sight, Mixt with the horrour of my deed, and night, That shap't these fears, and made me run away, And lose my beauteous hardly gotten prey. Speak gentle Shepherdess, I am alone, And tender love for love: but she is gone From me, that having struck her Lover dead, For silly fear left her alone and fled. And see the wounded body is remov'd By her of whom it was so well belov'd.

_Enter_ Perigot _and_ Amaryllis _in the shape of_ Amoret.

But these fancies must be quite forgot, I must lye close. Here comes young _Perigot_ With subtile _Amaryllis_ in the shape Of _Amoret_. Pray Love he may not 'scape.

_Amar_. Beloved _Perigot_, shew me some place, Where I may rest my limbs, weak with the Chace Of thee, an hour before thou cam'st at least.

_Per_. Beshrew my tardy steps: here shalt thou rest Upon this holy bank, no deadly Snake Upon this turf her self in folds doth make. Here is no poyson for the Toad to feed; Here boldly spread thy hands, no venom'd Weed Dares blister them, no slimy Snail dare creep Over thy face when thou art fast asleep; Here never durst the babling Cuckow spit, No slough of falling Star did ever hit Upon this bank: let this thy Cabin be, This other set with Violets for me.

_Ama_. Thou dost not love me _Perigot_.

_Per_. Fair maid, You only love to hear it often said; You do not doubt.

_Amar_. Believe me but I do.

_Per_. What shall we now begin again to woo? 'Tis the best way to make your Lover last, To play with him, when you have caught him fast.

_Amar_. By _Pan_ I swear, I loved _Perigot_, And by yon Moon, I think thou lov'st me not.

_Per_. By _Pan_ I swear, and if I falsely swear, Let him not guard my flocks, let Foxes tear My earliest Lambs, and Wolves whilst I do sleep Fall on the rest, a Rot among my Sheep. I love thee better than the careful Ewe The new-yean'd Lamb that is of her own hew; I dote upon thee more than the young Lamb Doth on the bag that feeds him from his Dam. Were there a sort of Wolves got in my Fold, And one ran after thee, both young and old Should be devour'd, and it should be my strife To save thee, whom I love above my life.

_Ama_. How shall I trust thee when I see thee chuse Another Bed, and dost my side refuse?

_Per_. 'Twas only that the chast thoughts might be shewn 'Twixt thee and me, although we were alone.

_Ama_. Come, _Perigot_ will shew his power, that he Can make his _Amoret_, though she weary be, Rise nimbly from her Couch, and come to his. Here take thy _Amoret_, embrace and kiss.

_Per_. What means my Love?

_Ama_. To do as lovers shou'd, That are to be enjoy'd, not to be woo'd. There's ne'r a Shepherdess in all the plain Can kiss thee with more Art, there's none can feign More wanton tricks.

_Per_. Forbear, dear Soul, to trie Whether my Heart be pure; I'll rather die Than nourish one thought to dishonour thee.

_Amar_. Still think'st thou such a thing as Chastitie Is amongst Women? _Perigot_ there's none, That with her Love is in a Wood alone, And would come home a maid; be not abus'd With thy fond first Belief, let time be us'd: Why dost thou rise?

_Per_. My true heart thou hast slain.

_Ama_. Faith _Perigot_, I'll pluck thee down again.

_Per_. Let go, thou Serpent, that into my brest Hast with thy cunning div'd; art not in Jest?

_Ama_. Sweet love, lye down.

_Per_. Since this I live to see, Some bitter North-wind blast my flocks and me.

_Ama_. You swore you lov'd, yet will not do my will.

_Per_. O be as thou wert once, I'll love thee still.

_Ama_. I am, as still I was, and all my kind, Though other shows we have poor men to blind.

_Per_. Then here I end all Love, and lest my vain Belief should ever draw me in again, Before thy face that hast my Youth misled, I end my life, my blood be on thy head.

_Ama._ O hold thy hands, thy _Amoret_ doth cry.

_Per._ Thou counsel'st well, first _Amoret_ shall dye, That is the cause of my eternal smart. [_He runs after her._

_Ama._ O hold.

_Per._ This steel shall pierce thy lustful heart.

[_The Sullen Shepherd steps out and uncharms her._

_Sull._ Up and down every where, I strew the herbs to purge the air: Let your Odour drive hence All mists that dazel sence. Herbs and Springs whose hidden might Alters Shapes, and mocks the sight, Thus I charge you to undo All before I brought ye to: Let her flye, let her 'scape, Give again her own shape.

_Enter_ Amaryllis _in her own shape._

_Amar._ Forbear thou gentle Swain, thou dost mistake, She whom thou follow'dst fled into the brake, And as I crost thy way, I met thy wrath, The only fear of which near slain me hath.

_Per._ Pardon fair Shepherdess, my rage and night Were both upon me, and beguil'd my sight; But far be it from me to spill the blood Of harmless Maids that wander in the Wood. [_Ex._ Ama.

_Enter_ Amoret.

_Amor._ Many a weary step in yonder path Poor hopeless _Amoret_ twice trodden hath To seek her _Perigot_, yet cannot hear His Voice; my _Perigot_, she loves thee dear That calls.

_Per._ See yonder where she is, how fair She shows, and yet her breath infefts the air.

_Amo._ My Perigot.

_Per._ Here.

_Amo._ Happy.

_Per._ Hapless first: It lights on thee, the next blow is the worst.

_Amo._ Stay _Perigot_, my love, thou art unjust.

_Peri._ Death is the best reward that's due to lust. [_Exit_ Perigot.

_Sul._ Now shall their love be crost, for being struck, I'le throw her in the Fount, lest being took By some night-travaller, whose honest care May help to cure her. Shepherdess prepare Your self to die.

_Amo._ No Mercy I do crave, Thou canst not give a worse blow than I have; Tell him that gave me this, who lov'd him too, He struck my soul, and not my body through, Tell him when I am dead, my soul shall be At peace, if he but think he injur'd me.

_Sul._ In this Fount be thy grave, thou wert not meant Sure for a woman, thou art so innocent. [_flings her into the well_ She cannot scape, for underneath the ground, In a long hollow the clear spring is bound, Till on yon side where the Morns Sun doth look, The strugling water breaks out in a Brook. [_Exit._

[_The God of the River riseth with_ Amoret _in his arms._

_God._ What powerfull charms my streams do bring Back again unto their spring, With such force, that I their god, Three times striking with my Rod, Could not keep them in their ranks: My Fishes shoot into the banks, There's not one that stayes and feeds, All have hid them in the weeds. Here's a mortal almost dead, Faln into my River head, Hallowed so with many a spell, That till now none ever fell. 'Tis a Female young and clear, Cast in by some Ravisher. See upon her breast a wound, On which there is no plaister bound. Yet she's warm, her pulses beat, 'Tis a sign of life and heat. If thou be'st a Virgin pure, I can give a present cure: Take a drop into thy wound From my watry locks more round Than Orient Pearl, and far more pure Than unchast flesh may endure. See she pants, and from her flesh The warm blood gusheth out afresh. She is an unpolluted maid; I must have this bleeding staid. From my banks I pluck this flower With holy hand, whose vertuous power Is at once to heal and draw. The blood returns. I never saw A fairer Mortal. Now doth break Her deadly slumber: Virgin, speak.

_Amo._ Who hath restor'd my sense, given me new breath, And brought me back out of the arms of death?

_God._ I have heal'd thy wounds.

_Amo._ Ay me!

_God._ Fear not him that succour'd thee: I am this Fountains god; below, My waters to a River grow, And 'twixt two banks with Osiers set, That only prosper in the wet, Through the Meadows do they glide, Wheeling still on every side, Sometimes winding round about, To find the evenest channel out. And if thou wilt go with me, Leaving mortal companie, In the cool streams shalt thou lye, Free from harm as well as I: I will give thee for thy food, No Fish that useth in the mud, But Trout and Pike that love to swim Where the gravel from the brim Through the pure streams may be seen: Orient Pearl fit for a Queen, Will I give thy love to win, And a shell to keep them in: Not a Fish in all my Brook That shall disobey thy look, But when thou wilt, come sliding by, And from thy white hand take a fly. And to make thee understand, How I can my waves command, They shall bubble whilst I sing Sweeter than the silver spring.

_The SONG.

Do not fear to put thy feet Naked in the River sweet; Think not Leach, or Newt or Toad Will bite thy foot, when thou hast troad; Nor let the water rising high, As thou wad'st in, make thee crie And sob, but ever live with me, And not a wave shall trouble thee._

_Amo._ Immortal power, that rul'st this holy flood, I know my self unworthy to be woo'd By thee a god: for e're this, but for thee I should have shown my weak Mortalitie: Besides, by holy Oath betwixt us twain, I am betroath'd unto a Shepherd swain, Whose comely face, I know the gods above May make me leave to see, but not to love.

_God._ May he prove to thee as true. Fairest Virgin, now adieu, I must make my waters fly, Lest they leave their Channels dry, And beasts that come unto the spring Miss their mornings watering, Which I would not; for of late All the neighbour people sate On my banks, and from the fold, Two white Lambs of three weeks old Offered to my Deitie: For which this year they shall be free From raging floods, that as they pass Leave their gravel in the grass: Nor shall their Meads be overflown, When their grass is newly mown.

_Amo._ For thy kindness to me shown, Never from thy banks be blown Any tree, with windy force, Cross thy streams, to stop thy course: May no beast that comes to drink, With his horns cast down thy brink; May none that for thy fish do look, Cut thy banks to damm thy Brook; Bare-foot may no Neighbour wade In thy cool streams, wife nor maid, When the spawns on stones do lye, To wash their Hemp, and spoil the Fry.

_God._ Thanks Virgin, I must down again, Thy wound will put thee to no pain: Wonder not so soon 'tis gone: A holy hand was laid upon.

_Amo._ And I unhappy born to be, Must follow him that flies from me.

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Perigot.

_Per._ She is untrue, unconstant, and unkind, She's gone, she's gone, blow high thou North-west wind, And raise the Sea to Mountains, let the Trees That dare oppose thy raging fury, leese Their firm foundation, creep into the Earth, And shake the world, as at the monstrous birth Of some new Prodigy, whilst I constant stand, Holding this trustie Boar-spear in my hand, And falling thus upon it.

_Enter_ Amaryllis, _running._

_Amar._ Stay thy dead-doing hand, thou art too hot Against thy self, believe me comely Swain, If that thou dyest, not all the showers of Rain The heavy clods send down can wash away That foul unmanly guilt, the world will lay Upon thee. Yet thy love untainted stands: Believe me, she is constant, not the sands Can be so hardly numbred as she won: I do not trifle, _Shepherd_, by the Moon, And all those lesser lights our eyes do view, All that I told thee _Perigot_, is true: Then be a free man, put away despair, And will to dye, smooth gently up that fair Dejected forehead: be as when those eyes Took the first heat.

_Per._ Alas he double dyes, That would believe, but cannot; 'tis not well Ye keep me thus from dying, here to dwell With many worse companions: but oh death, I am not yet inamour'd of this breath So much, but I dare leave it, 'tis not pain In forcing of a wound, nor after gain Of many dayes, can hold me from my will: 'Tis not my self, but _Amoret_, bids kill.

_Ama._ Stay but a little, little, but one hour, And if I do not show thee through the power Of herbs and words I have, as dark as night, My self turn'd to thy _Amoret_, in sight, Her very figure, and the Robe she wears, With tawny Buskins, and the hook she bears Of thine own Carving, where your names are set, Wrought underneath with many a curious fret, The _Prim-Rose_ Chaplet, taudry-lace and Ring, Thou gavest her for her singing, with each thing Else that she wears about her, let me feel The first fell stroke of that Revenging steel.

_Per._ I am contented, if there be a hope To give it entertainment, for the scope Of one poor hour; goe, you shall find me next Under yon shady Beech, even thus perplext, And thus believing.

_Ama._ Bind before I goe, Thy soul by _Pan_ unto me, not to doe Harm or outragious wrong upon thy life, Till my return.

_Per._ By _Pan_, and by the strife He had with _Phoebus_ for the Mastery, When Golden _Midas_ judg'd their _Minstrelcy_, I will not. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Satyr, _with_ Alexis, _hurt._

_Satyr._ Softly gliding as I goe, With this burthen full of woe, Through still silence of the night, Guided by the Gloe-worms light, Hither am I come at last, Many a Thicket have I past Not a twig that durst deny me, Not a bush that durst descry me, To the little Bird that sleeps On the tender spray: nor creeps That hardy worm with pointed tail, But if I be under sail, Flying faster than the wind, Leaving all the clouds behind, But doth hide her tender head In some hollow tree or bed Of seeded Nettles: not a Hare Can be started from his fare, By my footing, nor a wish Is more sudden, nor a fish Can be found with greater ease, Cut the vast unbounded seas, Leaving neither print nor sound, Than I, when nimbly on the ground, I measure many a league an hour: But behold the happy power, That must ease me of my charge, And by holy hand enlarge The soul of this sad man, that yet Lyes fast bound in deadly fit; Heaven and great _Pan_ succour it! Hail thou beauty of the bower, Whiter than the Paramour Of my Master, let me crave Thy vertuous help to keep from Grave This poor Mortal that here lyes, Waiting when the destinies Will cut off his thred of life: View the wound by cruel knife Trencht into him.

_Clor._ What art thou call'st me from my holy rites, And with thy feared name of death affrights My tender Ears? speak me thy name and will.

_Satyr._ I am the _Satyr_ that did fill Your lap with early fruit, and will, When I hap to gather more, Bring ye better and more store: Yet I come not empty now, See a blossom from the bow, But beshrew his heart that pull'd it, And his perfect sight that cull'd it From the other springing blooms; For a sweeter youth the Grooms Cannot show me, nor the downs, Nor the many neighbouring towns; Low in yonder glade I found him, Softly in mine Arms I bound him, Hither have I brought him sleeping In a trance, his wounds fresh weeping, In remembrance such youth may Spring and perish in a day.

_Clor._ _Satyr_, they wrong thee, that do term thee rude, Though thou beest outward rough and tawny hu'd, Thy manners are as gentle and as fair As his, who brags himself, born only heir To all Humanity: let me see the wound: This Herb will stay the current being bound Fast to the Orifice, and this restrain Ulcers, and swellings, and such inward pain, As the cold air hath forc'd into the sore: This to draw out such putrifying gore As inward falls.

_Satyr._ Heaven grant it may doe good.

_Clor._ Fairly wipe away the blood: Hold him gently till I fling Water of a vertuous spring On his temples; turn him twice To the Moon beams, pinch him thrice, That the labouring soul may draw From his great eclipse.

_Satyr._ I saw His eye-lids moving.

_Clo._ Give him breath, All the danger of cold death Now is vanisht; with this Plaster, And this unction, do I master All the festred ill that may Give him grief another day.

_Satyr._ See he gathers up his spright And begins to hunt for light; Now he gapes and breaths again: How the blood runs to the vein, That erst was empty!

_Alex._ O my heart, My dearest, dearest _Cloe_, O the smart Runs through my side: I feel some pointed thing Pass through my Bowels, sharper than the sting Of Scorpion.

Pan preserve me, what are you?
Do not hurt me, I am true
To my _Cloe_, though she flye,
And leave me to thy destiny.
There she stands, and will not lend
Her smooth white hand to help her friend:

But I am much mistaken, for that face Bears more Austerity and modest grace,

More reproving and more awe
Than these eyes yet ever saw
In my Cloe. Oh my pain
Eagerly renews again.

Give me your help for his sake you love best.

_Clor._ Shepherd, thou canst not possibly take rest, Till thou hast laid aside all hearts desires Provoking thought that stir up lusty fires, Commerce with wanton eyes, strong blood, and will To execute, these must be purg'd, untill The vein grow whiter; then repent, and pray Great _Pan_ to keep you from the like decay, And I shall undertake your cure with ease. Till when this vertuous Plaster will displease Your tender sides; give me your hand and rise: Help him a little _Satyr_, for his thighs Yet are feeble.

_Alex._ Sure I have lost much blood.

_Satyr._ 'Tis no matter, 'twas not good. Mortal you must leave your wooing, Though there be a joy in doing, Yet it brings much grief behind it, They best feel it, that do find it.

_Clor._ Come bring him in, I will attend his sore When you are well, take heed you lust no more.

_Satyr._ Shepherd, see what comes of kissing, By my head 'twere better missing. Brightest, if there be remaining Any service, without feigning I will do it; were I set To catch the nimble wind, or get Shadows gliding on the green, Or to steal from the great Queen Of _Fayries_, all her beauty, I would do it, so much duty Do I owe those precious Eyes.

_Clor._ I thank thee honest _Satyr_, if the cryes Of any other that be hurt or ill, Draw thee unto them, prithee do thy will To bring them hither.

_Satyr._ I will, and when the weather Serves to Angle in the brook, I will bring a silver hook, With a line of finest silk, And a rod as white as milk, To deceive the little fish: So I take my leave, and wish, On this Bower may ever dwell Spring, and Summer.

_Clo_. Friend farewel. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ Amoret, _seeking her Love_.

_Amor_. This place is Ominous, for here I lost My Love and almost life, and since have crost All these Woods over, never a Nook or Dell, Where any little Bird, or Beast doth dwell, But I have sought him, never a bending brow Of any Hill or Glade, the wind sings through, Nor a green bank, nor shade where Shepherds use To sit and Riddle, sweetly pipe, or chuse Their Valentines, that I have mist, to find My love in. _Perigot_, Oh too unkind, Why hast thou fled me? whither art thou gone? How have I wrong'd thee? was my love alone To thee worthy this scorn'd recompence? 'tis well, I am content to feel it: but I tell Thee Shepherd, and these lusty woods shall hear, Forsaken _Amoret_ is yet as clear Of any stranger fire, as Heaven is From foul corruption, or the deep Abysse From light and happiness; and thou mayst know All this for truth, and how that fatal blow Thou gav'st me, never from desert of mine, Fell on my life, but from suspect of thine, Or fury more than madness; therefore, here, Since I have lost my life, my love, my dear, Upon this cursed place, and on this green, That first divorc'd us, shortly shall be seen A sight of so great pity, that each eye Shall dayly spend his spring in memory Of my untimely fall.

_Enter_ Amaryllis.

_Amar_. I am not blind, Nor is it through the working of my mind, That this shows _Amoret_; forsake me all That dwell upon the soul, but what men call Wonder, or more than wonder, miracle, For sure so strange as this the Oracle Never gave answer of, it passeth dreams, Or mad-mens fancy, when the many streams Of new imaginations rise and fall: 'Tis but an hour since these Ears heard her call For pity to young _Perigot_; whilest he, Directed by his fury bloodily Lanc't up her brest, which bloodless fell and cold; And if belief may credit what was told, After all this, the Melancholy Swain Took her into his arms being almost slain, And to the bottom of the holy well Flung her, for ever with the waves to dwell. 'Tis she, the very same, 'tis _Amoret_, And living yet, the great powers will not let Their vertuous love be crost. Maid, wipe away Those heavy drops of sorrow, and allay The storm that yet goes high, which not deprest, Breaks heart and life, and all before it rest: Thy _Perigot_--

_Amor_. Where, which is _Perigot?_

_Amar_. Sits there below, lamenting much, god wot, Thee [and thy] fortune, go and comfort him, And thou shalt find him underneath a brim Of sailing Pines that edge yon Mountain in.

_Amo_. I go, I run, Heaven grant me I may win His soul again. [_Exit_ Amoret.

_Enter_ Sullen.

_Sull_. Stay _Amaryllis_, stay, Ye are too fleet, 'tis two hours yet to day. I have perform'd my promise, let us sit And warm our bloods together till the fit Come lively on us.

_Amar_. Friend you are too keen, The morning riseth and we shall be seen, Forbear a little.

_Sull_. I can stay no longer.

_Amar_. Hold _Shepherd_ hold, learn not to be a wronger Of your word, was not your promise laid, To break their loves first?

_Sull_. I have done it Maid.

_Amar_. No, they are yet unbroken, met again, And are as hard to part yet as the stain Is from the finest Lawn.

_Sull_. I say they are Now at this present parted, and so far, That they shall never meet.

_Amar_. Swain 'tis not so, For do but to yon hanging Mountain go, And there believe your eyes.

_Sull_. You do but hold Off with delayes and trifles; farewell cold And frozen bashfulness, unfit for men; Thus I salute thee Virgin.

_Amar_. And thus then, I bid you follow, catch me if you can. [_Exit_.

_Sull_. And if I stay behind I am no man. [_Exit running after her_.

_Enter_ Perigot.

_Per_. Night do not steal away: I woo thee yet To hold a hard hand o're the rusty bit That guides the lazy Team: go back again, _Bootes_, thou that driv'st thy frozen Wain Round as a Ring, and bring a second Night To hide my sorrows from the coming light; Let not the eyes of men stare on my face, And read my falling, give me some black place Where never Sun-beam shot his wholesome light, That I may sit and pour out my sad spright Like running water, never to be known After the forced fall and sound is gone.

_Enter_ Amoret _looking for_ Perigot.

_Amo_. This is the bottom: speak if thou be here, My _Perigot_, thy _Amoret_, thy dear Calls on thy loved Name.

_Per_. What art thou [dare] Tread these forbidden paths, where death and care Dwell on the face of darkness?

_Amo_. 'Tis thy friend, Thy _Amoret_, come hither to give end To these consumings; look up gentle Boy, I have forgot those Pains and dear annoy I suffer'd for thy sake, and am content To be thy love again; why hast thou rent Those curled locks, where I have often hung Riband and Damask-roses, and have flung Waters distil'd to make thee fresh and gay, Sweeter than the Nosegayes on a Bridal day? Why dost thou cross thine Arms, and hang thy face Down to thy bosom, letting fall apace From those two little Heavens upon the ground Showers of more price, more Orient, and more round Than those that hang upon the Moons pale brow? Cease these complainings, Shepherd, I am now The same I ever was, as kind and free, And can forgive before you ask of me. Indeed I can and will.

_Per_. So spoke my fair. O you great working powers of Earth and Air, Water and forming fire, why have you lent Your hidden vertues of so ill intent? Even such a face, so fair, so bright of hue Had _Amoret_; such words so smooth and new, Came flying from her tongue; such was her eye, And such the pointed sparkle that did flye Forth like a bleeding shaft; all is the same, The Robe and Buskins, painted Hook, and frame Of all her Body. O me, _Amoret_!

_Amo_. Shepherd, what means this Riddle? who hath set So strong a difference 'twixt my self and me That I am grown another? look and see The Ring thou gav'st me, and about my wrist That curious Bracelet thou thy self didst twist From those fair Tresses: knowst thou _Amoret_? Hath not some newer love forc'd thee forget Thy Ancient faith?

_Per_. Still nearer to my love; These be the very words she oft did prove Upon my temper, so she still would take Wonder into her face, and silent make Signs with her head and hand, as who would say, Shepherd remember this another day.

_Amo_. Am I not _Amaret_? where was I lost? Can there be Heaven, and time, and men, and most Of these unconstant? Faith where art thou fled? Are all the vows and protestations dead, The hands [held] up, the wishes, and the heart, Is there not one remaining, not a part Of all these to be found? why then I see Men never knew that vertue Constancie.

_Per_. Men ever were most blessed, till crass fate Brought Love and Women forth, unfortunate To all that ever tasted of their smiles, Whose actions are all double, full of wiles: Like to the subtil Hare, that 'fore the Hounds Makes many turnings, leaps and many rounds, This way and that way, to deceive the scent Of her pursuers.

_Amo_. 'Tis but to prevent Their speedy coming on that seek her fall, The hands of cruel men, more Bestial, And of a nature more refusing good Than Beasts themselves, or Fishes of the Flood.

_Per_. Thou art all these, and more than nature meant, When she created all, frowns, joys, content; Extream fire for an hour, and presently Colder than sleepy poyson, or the Sea, Upon whose face sits a continual frost: Your actions ever driven to the most, Then down again as low, that none can find The rise or falling of a Womans mind.

_Amo_. Can there be any Age, or dayes, or time, Or tongues of men, guilty so great a crime As wronging simple Maid? O _Perigot_, Thou that wast yesterday without a blot, Thou that wast every good, and every thing That men call blessed; thou that wast the spring From whence our looser grooms drew all their best; Thou that wast alwayes just, and alwayes blest In faith and promise; thou that hadst the name Of Vertuous given thee, and made good the same Ev'en from thy Cradle; thou that wast that all That men delighted in; Oh what a fall Is this, to have been so, and now to be The only best in wrong and infamie, And I to live to know this! and by me That lov'd thee dearer than mine eyes, or that Which we esteem'd our honour, Virgin state; Dearer than Swallows love the early morn, Or Dogs of Chace the sound of merry Horn; Dearer than thou canst love thy new Love, if thou hast Another, and far dearer than the last; Dearer than thou canst love thy self, though all The self love were within thee that did fall With that coy Swain that now is made a flower, For whose dear sake, Echo weeps many a shower. And am I thus rewarded for my flame? Lov'd worthily to get a wantons name? Come thou forsaken Willow, wind my head, And noise it to the world my Love is dead: I am forsaken, I am cast away. And left for every lazy Groom to say, I was unconstant, light, and sooner lost Than the quick Clouds we see, or the chill Frost When the hot Sun beats on it. Tell me yet, Canst thou not love again thy _Amoret_?

_Per_. Thou art not worthy of that blessed name, I must not know thee, fling thy wanton flame Upon some lighter blood, that may be hot With words and feigned passions: _Perigot_ Was ever yet unstain'd, and shall not now Stoop to the meltings of a borrowed brow.

_Amo_. Then hear me heaven, to whom I call for right, And you fair twinkling stars that crown the night; And hear me woods, and silence of this place, And ye sad hours that move a sullen pace; Hear me ye shadows that delight to dwell In horrid darkness, and ye powers of Hell, Whilst I breath out my last; I am that maid, That yet untainted _Amoret_, that plaid The careless prodigal, and gave away My soul to this young man, that now dares say I am a stranger, not the same, more wild; And thus with much belief I was beguil'd. I am that maid, that have delaid, deny'd, And almost scorn'd the loves of all that try'd To win me, but this swain, and yet confess I have been woo'd by many with no less Soul of affection, and have often had Rings, Belts, and Cracknels sent me from the lad That feeds his flocks down westward; Lambs and Doves By young _Alexis; Daphnis_ sent me gloves, All which I gave to thee: nor these, nor they That sent them did I smile on, or e're lay Up to my after-memory. But why Do I resolve to grieve, and not to dye? Happy had been the stroke thou gav'st, if home; By this time had I found a quiet room Where every slave is free, and every brest That living breeds new care, now lies at rest, And thither will poor _Amoret_.

_Per_. Thou must. Was ever any man so loth to trust His eyes as I? or was there ever yet Any so like as this to _Amoret_? For whose dear sake, I promise if there be A living soul within thee, thus to free Thy body from it. [_He hurts her again_.

_Amo_. So, this work hath end: Farewel and live, be constant to thy friend That loves thee next.

_Enter_ Satyr, Perigot _runs off_.

_Satyr_. See the day begins to break, And the light shoots like a streak Of subtil fire, the wind blows cold, Whilst the morning doth unfold; Now the Birds begin to rouse, And the Squirril from the boughs Leaps to get him Nuts and fruit; The early Lark that erst was mute, Carrols to the rising day Many a note and many a lay: Therefore here I end my watch, Lest the wandring swain should catch Harm, or lose himself.

_Amo_. Ah me!

_Satyr_. Speak again what e're thou be, I am ready, speak I say: By the dawning of the day, By the power of night and _Pan_, I inforce thee speak again.

_Amo_. O I am most unhappy.

_Satyr_. Yet more blood! Sure these wanton Swains are wode. Can there be a hand or heart Dare commit so vile a part As this Murther? By the Moon That hid her self when this was done, Never was a sweeter face: I will bear her to the place Where my Goddess keeps; and crave Her to give her life, or grave. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Clorin.

_Clor_. Here whilst one patient takes his rest secure I steal abroad to doe another Cure. Pardon thou buryed body of my love, That from thy side I dare so soon remove, I will not prove unconstant, nor will leave Thee for an hour alone. When I deceive My first made vow, the wildest of the wood Tear me, and o're thy Grave let out my blood; I goe by wit to cure a lovers pain Which no herb can; being done, I'le come again. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ Thenot.

_The_. Poor Shepherd in this shade for ever lye, And seeing thy fair _Clorins_ Cabin, dye: 0 hapless love, which [being] answer'd, ends; And as a little infant cryes and bends His tender Brows, when rowling of his eye He hath espy'd some thing that glisters nigh Which he would have, yet give it him, away He throws it straight, and cryes afresh to play With something else: such my affection, set On that which I should loath, if I could get.

_Enter_ Clorin.

_Clor_. See where he lyes; did ever man but he Love any woman for her Constancie To her dead lover, which she needs must end Before she can allow him for her friend, And he himself must needs the cause destroy, For which he loves, before he can enjoy? Poor _Shepherd_, Heaven grant I at once may free Thee from thy pain, and keep my loyaltie: _Shepherd_, look up.

_The_. Thy brightness doth amaze! So _Phoebus_ may at noon bid mortals gaze, Thy glorious constancie appears so bright, I dare not meet the Beams with my weak sight.

_Clor_. Why dost thou pine away thy self for me?

_The_. Why dost thou keep such spotless constancie?

_Clor_. Thou holy _Shepherd_, see what for thy sake _Clorin_, thy _Clorin_, now dare under take. [_He starts up_.

_The_. Stay there, thou constant _Clorin_, if there be Yet any part of woman left in thee, To make thee light: think yet before thou speak.

_Clor_. See what a holy vow for thee I break. I that already have my fame far spread For being constant to my lover dead.

_The_. Think yet, dear _Clorin_, of your love, how true, If you had dyed, he would have been to you.

_Clor_. Yet all I'le lose for thee.

_The_. Think but how blest A constant woman is above the rest.

_Clor_. And offer up my self, here on this ground, To be dispos'd by thee.

_The_. Why dost thou wound His heart with malice, against woman more, That hated all the Sex, but thee before? How much more pleasant had it been to me To dye, than to behold this change in thee? Yet, yet, return, let not the woman sway.

_Clor_. Insult not on her now, nor use delay, Who for thy sake hath ventur'd all her fame.

_The_. Thou hast not ventur'd, but bought certain shame, Your Sexes curse, foul falshood must and shall, I see, once in your lives, light on you all. I hate thee now: yet turn.

_Clor_. Be just to me: Shall I at once both lose my fame and thee?

_The_. Thou hadst no fame, that which thou didst like good, Was but thy appetite that sway'd thy blood For that time to the best: for as a blast That through a house comes, usually doth cast Things out of order, yet by chance may come, And blow some one thing to his proper room; So did thy appetite, and not thy zeal, Sway thee [by] chance to doe some one thing well. Yet turn.

_Clor_. Thou dost but try me if I would Forsake thy dear imbraces, for my old Love's, though he were alive: but do not fear.

_The_. I do contemn thee now, and dare come near, And gaze upon thee; for me thinks that grace, Austeritie, which sate upon that face Is gone, and thou like others: false maid see, This is the gain of foul inconstancie. [_Exit_.

_Clor_. 'Tis done, great _Pan_ I give thee thanks for it, What art could not have heal'd, is cur'd by wit.

_Enter_ Thenot, _again_.

_The_. Will ye be constant yet? will ye remove Into the Cabin to your buried Love?

_Clor_. No let me die, but by thy side remain.

_The_. There's none shall know that thou didst ever stain Thy worthy strictness, but shall honour'd be, And I will lye again under this tree, And pine and dye for thee with more delight, Than I have sorrow now to know the light.

_Clor_. Let me have thee, and I'le be where thou wilt.

_The_. Thou art of womens race, and full of guilt. Farewel all hope of that Sex, whilst I thought There was one good, I fear'd to find one naught: But since their minds I all alike espie, Henceforth I'le choose as others, by mine eye.

_Clor_. Blest be ye powers that give such quick redress, And for my labours sent so good success. I rather choose, though I a woman be, He should speak ill of all, than die for me.

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima_.

_Enter_ Priest, _and old_ Shepherd.

_Priest_. Shepherds, rise and shake off sleep, See the blushing Morn doth peep Through the window, whilst the Sun To the mountain tops is run, Gilding all the Vales below With his rising flames, which grow Greater by his climbing still. Up ye lazie grooms, and fill Bagg and Bottle for the field; Clasp your cloaks fast, lest they yield To the bitter North-east wind. Call the Maidens up, and find Who lay longest, that she may Goe without a friend all day; Then reward your Dogs, and pray _Pan_ to keep you from decay: So unfold and then away. What not a Shepherd stirring? sure the grooms Have found their beds too easie, or the rooms Fill'd with such new delight, and heat, that they Have both forgot their hungry sheep, and day; Knock, that they may remember what a shame Sloath and neglect layes on a Shepherds name.

_Old Shep_. It is to little purpose, not a swain This night hath known his lodging here, or lain Within these cotes: the woods, or some near town, That is a neighbour to the bordering Down, Hath drawn them thither, 'bout some lustie sport, Or spiced Wassel-Boul, to which resort All the young men and maids of many a cote, Whilst the trim Minstrel strikes his merry note.

_Priest_. God pardon sin, show me the way that leads To any of their haunts.

_Old Shep_. This to the meads, And that down to the woods.

_Priest_. Then this for me; Come Shepherd let me crave your companie. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Clorin, _in her Cabin_, Alexis, _with her_.

_Clor_. Now your thoughts are almost pure, And your wound begins to cure: Strive to banish all that's vain, Lest it should break out again.

_Alex_. Eternal thanks to thee, thou holy maid: I find my former wandring thoughts well staid Through thy wise precepts, and my outward pain By thy choice herbs is almost gone again: Thy sexes vice and vertue are reveal'd At once, for what one hurt, another heal'd.

_Clor_. May thy grief more appease, Relapses are the worst disease. Take heed how you in thought offend, So mind and body both will mend.

_Enter_ Satyr, _with_ Amoret.

_Amo_. Beest thou the wildest creature of the wood, That bearst me thus away, drown'd in my blood, And dying, know I cannot injur'd be, I am a maid, let that name fight for me.

_Satyr_. Fairest Virgin do not fear Me, that do thy body bear, Not to hurt, but heal'd to be; Men are ruder far than we. See fair _Goddess_ in the wood, They have let out yet more blood. Some savage man hath struck her breast So soft and white, that no wild beast Durst ha' toucht asleep, or wake: So sweet, that _Adder, Newte_, or _Snake_, Would have lain from arm to arm, On her bosom to be warm All a night, and being hot, Gone away and stung her not. Quickly clap herbs to her breast; A man sure is a kind of beast.

_Clor_. With spotless hand, on spotless brest I put these herbs to give thee rest: Which till it heal thee, will abide, If both be pure, if not, off slide. See it falls off from the wound, Shepherdess thou art not sound, Full of lust.

_Satyr_, Who would have thought it, So fair a face?

_Clor_. Why that hath brought it.

_Amo_. For ought I know or think, these words, my last: Yet _Pan_ so help me as my thoughts are chast.

_Clor_. And so may _Pan_ bless this my cure, As all my thoughts are just and pure; Some uncleanness nigh doth lurk, That will not let my Medicines work. _Satyr_ search if thou canst find it.

_Satyr_. Here away methinks I wind it, Stronger yet: Oh here they be, Here, here, in a hollow tree, Two fond mortals have I found.

_Clor_. Bring them out, they are unsound.

_Enter_ Cloe, _and_ Daphnis.

_Satyr_. By the fingers thus I wring ye, To my _Goddess_ thus I bring ye; Strife is vain, come gently in, I scented them, they're full of sin.

_Clor_. Hold _Satyr_, take this Glass, Sprinkle over all the place, Purge the Air from lustfull breath, To save this Shepherdess from death, And stand you still whilst I do dress Her wound for fear the pain encrease.

_Sat_. From this glass I throw a drop Of Crystal water on the top Of every grass, on flowers a pair: Send a fume and keep the air Pure and wholsom, sweet and blest, Till this Virgins wound be drest.

_Clor. Satyr_, help to bring her in.

_Sat_. By _Pan_, I think she hath no sin, She is so light: lye on these leaves. Sleep that mortal sense deceives, Crown thine Eyes, and ease thy pain, Maist thou soon be well again.

_Clor. Satyr_, bring the Shepherd near, Try him if his mind be clear.

_Sat_. Shepherd come.

_Daph_. My thoughts are pure.

_Sat_. The better trial to endure.

_Clor_. In this flame his finger thrust, Which will burn him if he lust; But if not, away will turn, As loth unspotted flesh to burn: See, it gives back, let him go, Farewel mortal, keep thee so.

_Sat_. Stay fair _Nymph_, flye not so fast, We must try if you be chaste: Here's a hand that quakes for fear, Sure she will not prove so clear.

_Clor._ Hold her finger to the flame, That will yield her praise or shame.

_Sat._ To her doom she dares not stand, But plucks away her tender hand, And the Taper darting sends His hot beams at her fingers ends: O thou art foul within, and hast A mind, if nothing else, unchaste.

_Alex._ Is not that _Cloe?_ 'tis my Love, 'tis she! _Cloe_, fair _Cloe_.

_Clo._ My Alexis.

_Alex._ He.

_Clo._ Let me embrace thee.

_Clor._ Take her hence, Lest her sight disturb his sence.

_Alex._ Take not her, take my life first.

_Clor._ See, his wound again is burst: Keep her near, here in the Wood, Till I ha' stopt these Streams of Blood. Soon again he ease shall find, If I can but still his mind: This Curtain thus I do display, To keep the piercing air away.

_Enter_ old Shepherd, _and_ Priest.

_Priest_. Sure they are lost for ever; 'tis in vain To find 'em out with trouble and much pain, That have a ripe desire, and forward will To flye the Company of all but ill, What shall be counsel'd now? shall we retire? Or constant follow still that first desire We had to find them?

_Old_. Stay a little while; For if the Morning mist do not beguile My sight with shadows, sure I see a Swain; One of this jolly Troop's come back again.

_Enter_ Thenot.

_Pri._ Dost thou not blush young Shepherd to be known, Thus without care, leaving thy flocks alone, And following what desire and present blood Shapes out before thy burning sense, for good, Having forgot what tongue hereafter may Tell to the World thy falling off, and say Thou art regardless both of good and shame, Spurning at Vertue, and a vertuous Name, And like a glorious, desperate man that buys A poyson of much price, by which he dies, Dost thou lay out for Lust, whose only gain Is foul disease, with present age and pain, And then a Grave? These be the fruits that grow In such hot Veins that only beat to know Where they may take most ease, and grow ambitious Through their own wanton fire, and pride delicious.

_The_. Right holy Sir, I have not known this night, What the smooth face of Mirth was, or the sight Of any looseness; musick, joy, and ease, Have been to me as bitter drugs to please A Stomach lost with weakness, not a game That I am skill'd at throughly; nor a Dame, Went her tongue smoother than the feet of Time, Her beauty ever living like the Rime Our blessed _Tityrus_ did sing of yore, No, were she more enticing than the store Of fruitful Summer, when the loaden Tree Bids the faint Traveller be bold and free, 'Twere but to me like thunder 'gainst the bay, Whose lightning may enclose but never stay Upon his charmed branches; such am I Against the catching flames of Womans eye.

_Priest_. Then wherefore hast thou wandred?

_The_. 'Twas a Vow That drew me out last night, which I have now Strictly perform'd, and homewards go to give Fresh pasture to my Sheep, that they may live.

_Pri_. 'Tis good to hear ye, Shepherd, if the heart In this well sounding Musick bear his part. Where have you left the rest?

_The_. I have not seen, Since yesternight we met upon this green To fold our Flocks up, any of that train; Yet have I walkt these Woods round, and have lain All this same night under an aged Tree, Yet neither wandring Shepherd did I see, Or Shepherdess, or drew into mine ear The sound of living thing, unless it were The Nightingale among the thick leav'd spring That sits alone in sorrow, and doth sing Whole nights away in mourning, or the Owl, Or our great enemy that still doth howl Against the Moons cold beams.

_Priest_. Go and beware Of after falling.

_The_. Father 'tis my care. [_Exit_ Thenot.

_Enter_ Daphnis.

_Old_. Here comes another Stragler, sure I see A Shame in this young Shepherd. _Daphnis_!

_Daph_. He.

_Pri_. Where hast thou left the rest, that should have been Long before this, grazing upon the green Their yet imprison'd flocks?

_Daph_. Thou holy man, Give me a little breathing till I can Be able to unfold what I have seen; Such horrour that the like hath never been Known to the ear of Shepherd: Oh my heart Labours a double motion to impart So heavy tidings! You all know the Bower Where the chast _Clorin_ lives, by whose great power Sick men and Cattel have been often cur'd, There lovely _Amoret_ that was assur'd To lusty _Perigot_, bleeds out her life, Forc'd by some Iron hand and fatal knife; And by her young _Alexis_.

_Enter_ Amaryllis _running from her_ Sullen Shepherd.