THE FAITHFUL Shepherdess.  
By JOHN FLETCHER.  
Printed at London for R. Bonian and H. Walley, and are to be sold at the spred Eagle over against the great North door of S. Paul's.   


To that noble and true lover of earning, Sir WALTER ASTON knight of the Bath.  
SIr I must ask your patience, and be true.  
This play was never liked, unless by few  
That brought their judgements with 'em, for of late  
First the infection, then the common prate  
Of common people, have such customs got  
Either to silence plays, or like them not.  
Under the last of which this interlude,  
Had fallen for ever priest down by the rude  
That like a torrent which the moist south feeds,  
Drowne's both before him the ripe corn and weeds:  
Had not the saving sense of better men  
Redeemed it from corruption: (dear Sir then)  
Among the better souls, be you the best  
In whom, as in a Centre I take rest,  
And proper being: from whose equal eye  
And judgement, nothing grows but purity:  
(Nor do I flatter) for by all those dead,  
Great in the muses, by Apollo's head,  
He that adds any thing to you; 'tis done  
Like his that lights a candle to the sun:  
Then be as you were ever, yourself still  
Moved by your judgement, not by love, or will  
And when I sing again as who can tell  
My next devotion to that holy well,  
Your goodness to the muses shall be all,  
Able to make a work Heroical.  
Given to your service JOHN FLETCHER.   

To the inheritor of all worthiness, Sir William Scipwith. Ode.  
If from servile hope or love,  
I may prove  
But so happy to be thought for  
Such a one whose greatest ease  
Is to please  
(Worthy sir) I have all I sought for,  
For no ich of greater name,  
which some claim  
By their verses do I show it  
To the world; nor to protest  
'tis the best  
These are lean faults, in a poet  
Nor to make it serve to feed  
at my need  
Nor to gain acquaintance by it  
Nor to ravish kind Attorneys,  
in their journeys.  
Nor to read it after diet  
Fare from me are all these aims  
Fittest frames  
To build weakness on and pity  
Only to yourself, and such  
whose true touch  
Makes all good; let me seem witty.  
The Admirer of your virtues, JOHN FLETCHER.   

To the perfect gentleman Sir Robert Townesend.  
IF the greatest faults may crave  
Pardon where contrition is  
(Noble Sir) I needs must have  
A long one; for a long amiss  
If you ask me (how is this)  
Upon my faith I'll tell you frankly,  
You love above my means to thank ye.  
Yet according to my Talon  
As sour fortune loves to use me  
A poor Shepherd I have sent,  
In homespun grey for to excuse me.  
And may all my hopes refuse me:  
But when better comes ashore,  
You shall have better, newer, more.  
Till when, like our desperate debtor,  
Or our three piled sweet protesters  
I must please you in bare letters  
And so pay my debts; like jesters,  
Yet I oft have seen good feasters,  
Only for to please the pallet,  
Leave great meat and choose a fallet.  
All yours john Fletcher:    

To The Reader.  
IF you be not reasonably assured 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 Tragicomedy, which the people seeing when it was played, having ever had a singular guise in defining, concluded to be a play of country hired Shepherds, in grey cloaks, with curtailed dogs in strings, sometimes laughing together, and sometimes killing one another: And missing whitsun ales, cream, wassail & morris-dances, began to be angry. In their error I would not have you fall, lest you incur their censure. Understand therefore a pastoral to be a representation of shepherds and shepherdess, with their actions and passions, which must be such as may agree with their natures at least not exceeding former fictions, & vulgar traditions: they are not to be adorned with any art, but such improper ones as nothing is said to bestow, as singing and Poetry, or such as experience may teach them, as the virtues of hearts, & fountain 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 tragicomedy 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 questioned, 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.  


To my loved friend M. john Fletcher, on his pastorals  

CAn my approvement (Sir) be worth your thanks?  
Whose unknown name and muse (in swathing clouts)  
Is not yet grown to strength, among these ranks  
To have a room and bear off the sharp flouts  
Of this our pregnant age, that does despise  
All innocent verse, that lets alone her vice.   

But I must justify what privately,  
I censured to you: my ambition is  
(Even by my hopes and love to Poesy)  
To live to perfect such a work, as this,  
Clad in such elegant propriety  
Of words, including a mortality.   

So sweet and profitable, though each man that hears,  
(And learning has enough to clap and hiss)  
Arrives not to't, so misty it appears;  
And to their filmed reasons, so amiss:  
But let Art look in truth, she like a mirror,  
Reflects her comfort, ignorance's terror   

Sits in her own brow, being made afraid,  
Of her unnatural complexion,  
As ugly women (when they are arrayed  
By glasses) loath their true reflection,  
Then how can such opinions injure thee,  
That tremble, at their own deformity?   

Opinion, that great fool, makes fools of all,  
And (once) I feared her till I met a mind  
Whose grave instructions philosophical,  
Tossed it like dust upon a march strong wind,  
He shall for ever my example be,  
And his embraced doctrine grow in me.   

His soul (& such commend this) that command  
Such art, it should me better satisfy,  
Then if the monster clapped his thousand hands,  
And drowned the scene with his confused cry;  
And if doubts rise, lo their own names to clear'em  
Whilst I am happy but to stand so near'em.   N. F.  

To my friend Master john Fletcher, upon his faithful Shepherdess.  
I Know too well that no more than the man  
That travels through the burning deserts, can  
When he is beaten with the raging sun,  
Half smothered with the dust, have power to run  
From a cool river, which himself doth find,  
Ere he be slacked: no more can he whose mind  
joys in the muses, hold from that delight,  
When nature, and his full thoughts bade him write,  
Yet wish I those whom I for friends have known,  
To sing their thoughts to no ears but their own:  
Why should the man, whose wit near had a stain,  
Upon the public stage present his vain,  
And make a thousand men in judgement sit,  
To call in question his undoubted wit,  
Scarce two of which can understand the laws  
Which they should judge by, nor the party's cause,  
Among the rout there is not one that hath  
In his own censure an explicit faith.  
One company knowing they judgement lack,  
Ground their belief on the next man in black:  
Others, on him that makes signs, and is mute,  
Some like as he does in the fairest suit,  
He as his mistress doth, and she boy chance,  
Nor wants there those, who as the body doth dance  
Between the acts, will censure the whole play:  
Some like if the wax lights be new that day:  
But multitudes there are whose judgements goes  
Headlong according to the actors clothes.  
For this, these public things and I, agree  
So ill, that but to do aright to thee,  
I had not been persuaded to have hurled  
These few, ill spoken lines, into the world,  
Both to be read, and censured of, by those,  
Whose very reading makes verse senseless prose,  
Such as must spend above an hour, to spell  
A challenge on a post, to know it well,  
But since it was thy hap to throw away,  
Much wit, for which the people did not pay,  
Because they saw it not, I not dislike  
This second publication, which may strike  
Their consciences, to see the thing they scorned,  
To be with so much will and art adorned.  
Besides one vantage more in this I see,  
Your censurers must have the quality  
Of reading, which I am afraid is more  
Than half your shrewdest judges had before.  Fr. Beaumont.   

The faithful Shepherdess.  

Actus primi, Scena prima.  Enter Clorin a Shepherdess having buried her love in an Arbour. 
Hail holy earth, whose cold arms do embrace  
The truest man that ever fed his flocks:  
By the fat plains of fruitful Thessaly,  
Thus I salute thy grave, thus do I pay  
My early vows and tribute of mine eyes,  
To thy still loved ashes: thus I free  
myself from all ensuing heats and fires  
Of love, all sports, delights and games,  
That Shepherds hold full dears thus put I off.  
Now no more shall these smooth brows be girt,  
With youthful colonels, and lead the dance,  
No more the company of fresh fair Maids  
And wanton shepherds be to me delightful.  
Nor the shrill pleasing sound of merry pipes,  
Under some shady dell when the cool wind  
Plays on the leaves, all be far away:  
Since thou art far away: by whose dear side,  
How often have I sat crowned with fresh flowers  
For Summer's queen, whilst every shepherds boy  
Puts on his lustily green with gaudy hook,  
And hanging scrip of finest cordovan:  
But thou art gone, and these are gone with thee,  
And all are dead but thy dear memory:  
That shall outlive thee, and shall ever spring,  
Whilst there are pipes, or jolly shepherds sing.  
And here will I, in honour of thy love,  
Dwell by thy grave, forgetting all those joys,  
That former times made precious to mine eyes:  
Only remembering what my youth did gain,  
In the dark hidden virtuous use of herbs:  
That I will I practise, and as freely give  
All my endeavours, as I gained them free.  
Of all green wounds I know the remedies,  
In men or cattle, be they stung with snakes,  
Or charmed with powerful words of wicked art,  
Or be they lovesick, or through too much heat  
Grown wild or lunatic, their eyes or ears  
Thickened with misty film of dulling rheum,  
These I can cure, such secret virtue lies  
In herbs applied by a virgin's hand:  
My meat shall be what these wild woods afford,  
Berries, and Chestnuts, Plantains, on whose cheeks  
The Sun sits smiling, and the lofty fruit  
Pulled from the fair head of the strait grown pine:  
On these I'll feed with free content and rest,  
When night shall blind the world, by thy side blessed.  Enter a Satire. Sat. 
Through yond same bending plain,  
That flings his arms down to the main,  
And through these thick woods have I run,  
whose bottom never kissed the Sun  
Since the lusty spring began,  
All to please my Master Pan,  
Have I trotted without rest  
To get him fruit, for at a feast,  
He entertains this coming night,  
His Paramour the Syrinx bright:  
But behold a fairer sight stands amazed.  
By that heavenly form of thine,  
Brightest fair thou art divine:  
Sprung from great immortal race  
Of the Gods: for in thy face,  
Shines more awful majesty,  
Then dull weak mortality  
Dare with misty eyes behold  
And live, therefore on this mould,  
Lowly do I bend my knee,  
In worship of thy deity,  
Deign it Goddess from my hand,  
To receive whate'er this land,  
From her fertile womb doth send  
Of her choice fruits: and but lend,  
Belief to that the Satire tells,  
Fairer by the famous wells,  
To this present day near grew,  
Never better nor more true,  
Here be grapes whose lusty blood,  
Is the learned Poets good,  
Sweeter yet did never crown,  
The head of Bacchus, nuts more brown  
Than the squirrels teeth that crack them,  
Deign o fairest fair to take them,  
For these black eyed dryop,  
Hath often times commanded me,  
With my clasped knee to climb,  
See how well the lusty time,  
Hath decked their rising cheeks in red,  
Such as on your lips is spread,  
Here be berries for a Queen,  
Some be red, some be green:  
These are of that luscious meat,  
The great God Pan, himself doth eat:  
All these, and what the woods can yield,  
The hanging mountain or the field,  
I freely offer, and ere long,  
Will bring you more, more sweet and strong.  
Till when humbly leave I take,  
lest the great Pan do awake:  
That sleeping lies in a deep glade,  
unde a broad beech's shade:  
I must go, I must run,  
Swifter than the fiery Sun. Exit.  Clorin. 
And all my fears go with thee.  
What greatness or what private hidden power,  
Is there in me to draw submission,  
From this rude man, and beast? sure I am mortal,  
The daughter of a Shepherd, he was mortal:  
And she that bore me mortal: prick my hand  
And it will bleed: a fever shakes me,  
And the self-same wind that makes the young lambs shrink,  
Makes me a cold, my fear says I am mortal:  
Yet I have heard (my mother told it me)  
And now I do believe it, if I keep  
My virgin flower uncropped, pure, chaste, & fair,  
No Goblin, wood-god, Fairy, Elf, or Fiend,  
satire or other power that haunts these groves,  
Shall hurt my body, or by vain illusion,  
Draw me to wander after idle fires.  
Or voices calling me in dead of night,  
To make me follow, and so toll me on,  
Through mires and standing pools:  
Else why should this rough thing, who never knew  
Manners, nor smooth humanity, whose heats  
Are rougher than himself, and more misshaped,  
Thus mildly kneel to me? sure there is a power  
In that great name of virgin; that binds fast  
All rude uncivil bloods, all appetites  
That break their confines: then strong chastity,  
Be thou my strongest guard, for here I'll dwell  
In opposition against Fate and Hell.  Enter an old shepherd, with four couple of Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Old Shep. 
Now we have done this holy festival,  
In honour of our great God, and his rights  
Performed, prepare yourselves for chaste  
And uncorrupted fires: that as the priest,  
With powerful hand shall sprinkle on your brows  
His pure and holy water, ye may be  
From all hot flames of lust, and loose thoughts free,  
Kneel shepherds kneel, here comes the Priest of Pan.  Enter Priest. Priest. 
shepherds thus I purge away,  
Whatsoever this great day,  
Or the past hours gave not good,  
To corrupt your maiden blood:  
From the high rebellious heat,  
Of the grapes and strength of meat.  
From the wanton quick desires,  
They do kindle by their fires.  
I do wash you with this water,  
Be you pure and fair hereafter.  
From your livers and your veins,  
Thus I take away the stains.  
All your thoughts be smooth and fair,  
Be ye fresh and free as air.  
Never more let lustful heat,  
Through your purged conduits beat,  
Or a plighted troth be broken,  
Or a wanton verse be spoken:  
In a Shepherdess's ear,  
Go your ways you're all clear.  They rise and sing in praise of Pan. 

The Song.  
Sing his praises that doth keep,  
our Flocks from harm,  
Pan the Father of our sheep,  
And arm in arm  
Tread we softly in a round,  
Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground,  
Fills the music with her sound,  
Pan, o great God, Pan to thee  
Thus do we sing:  
Thou that keepest us chaste and free,  
As the young spring,  
Ever be thy honour spoke,  
From that place the morn is broke,  
To that place Day doth unyoke.   Exeunt omnes but Perigot and Amouret. Peri. 
Stay gentle Amoret thou fair browed maid,  
Thy Shepherd prays thee stay, that holds thee de ere.  
Equal with his souls good:  Amo. 
Speak, I give  
Thee freedom Shepherd, & thy tongue be still  
The same it ever was: as free from ill  
As he whose conversation never knew  
The court or city: be thou ever true.  Peri. 
When I fall off from my affection,  
Or mingle my clean thoughts with foul desires,  
First let our great God cease to keep my flocks,  
That being left alone without a guard,  
The wolf, or winter's rage, summers great heat,  
And want of water, rots: or what to us  
Of ill is yet unknown, fall speedily,  
And in their general ruin let me go.  Amo. 
I pray thee gentle Shepherd wish not so,  
I do believe thee: 'tis as hard for me  
To think thee false, and harder than for thee  
To hold me foul.  Peri. 
o you are fairer far,  
Than the chaste blushing morn, or that fair star,  
That guides the wandering seaman through the deeps  
Straighter than the straightest pine upon the steep  
Head of an aged mountain, and more white,  
Than the new milk we strip before day light  
From the full freighted bags of our fair flocks:  
Your hair more beauteous than those hanging locks  
Of young Apollo.  Amo. 
Shepherd be not lost,  
Ye are sailed too far already from the coast  
Of our discourse.  Peri. 
Did you not tell me once  
I should not love alone, I should not lose  
Those many passions, vows and holy oaths,  
I have sent to heaven: did you not give your hand,  
Even that fair hand in hostage? do not then  
Give back again those sweets to other men.  
You yourself vowed were mine,  Amo. 
Shepheard so far as maiden's modesty  
May give assurance, I am once more thine,  
Once more I give my hand, be ever free  
From that great foe to faith, foul jealousy.  Peri. 
I take it as my best good, and desire  
For stronger confirmation of our love,  
To meet this happy night in that fair grove,  
Where all true shepherds have rewarded been  
For their long service: say sweet shall it hold?  Amo. 
Dear friend you must not blame me if I make  
A doubt of what the silent night may do,  
Coupled with this days heat to move your blood:  
Maids must be fearful, sure you have not been  
Washed white enough, for yet I see a stain  
Stick in your liver, go and purge again.  Peri. 
O do not wrong my honest simple truth,  
myself and my affections are as pure,  
As those chaste flames that burn before the shrine,  
Of the great Dian: only my intent  
To draw you thither, was to plight our troths,  
With interchange of mutual chaste embraces,  
And ceremonious tying of our souls:  
For to that holy wood is consecrate,  
A virtuous Well, about whose flowery banks,  
The nimble footed Fairies dance their rounds,  
By the pale moonshine, dipping often times  
Their stolen children, so to make them free  
From dying flesh, and dull mortality:  
By this fair Fount hath many a Shepherd sworn,  
And given away his freedom, many a troth  
Been plight, which neither envy nor old time  
Could ever break, with many a chaste kiss given,  
In hope of coming happiness: by this  
Fresh Fountain many a blushing maid  
Hath crowned the head of her long loved shepherd,  
With gaudy flowers, whilst he happy sung,  
Lays of his love and dear captivity,  
There grows all herbs fit to cool looser flames,  
Our sensual parts provoke chiding our bloods,  
And quenching by their power those hidden sparks,  
That else would break out, and provoke our sense,  
To open fires, so virtuous is that place:  
Then gentle Shepherdess believe and grant,  
In troth it sits not with that face to scant.  
Your faithful Shepherd of those chaste desires,  
He ever aimed at, and—  Amo. 
Thou hast prevailed, farewell, this coming night,  
Shall crown thy chaste hopes with long wished delight.  Peri. 
Our great God Pan reward thee for that good,  
Thou hast given thy poor shepherd fairest bud  
Of maiden virtues: when I leave to be  
The true admirer of thy chastity,  
Let me deserve the hot polluted name,  
Of a wild woodman, or affect some dame  
Whose often prostitution hath begot,  
More foul diseases, then ever yet the hot  
Sun bred through his burnings, whilst the dog  
Pursues the raging Lion, throwing fog  
And deadly vapour from his angry breath.  
Filling the lower world with plague and death. exit Amo  Enter another Shepherdess that is in love with Perigot. Amaril. 
Shepheard may I desire to be believed,  
What I shall blushing tell?  Peri. 
Fair maid you may.  Amaril. 
Then softly thus, I love thee Perigot,  
And would be gladder to be loved again,  
Than the cold earth is in his frozen arms  
To clip the wanton spring: nay do not start,  
Nor wonder that I woo thee! thou that art  
The prime of our young grooms, even the top  
Of all our lusty Shepherds: what dull eye  
That never was acquainted with desire,  
Hath scene thee wrestle, run, or cast the stone,  
With nimble strength and fair delivery,  
And hath not sparkled fire, and speedily  
Sent secret heat to all the neighbouring veins?  
whoever heard thee sing, that brought again,  
That freedom back was lent unto thy voice?  
Then do not blame me (shepherd) if I be  
One to be numbered in this company,  
Since none that ever saw thee yet, were free.  Peri. 
Fair Shepherdess much pity I can lend,  
To your complaints: but sure I shall not love:  
All that is mine, myself and my best hopes,  
Are given already: do not love him then  
That cannot love again: on other men  
Bestow those heats more free, that may return  
You fire for fire, and in one flame equal burn.  Amaril. 
Shall I rewarded be so slenderly  
For my affection, most unkind of men?  
If I were old, or had agreed with Art,  
To give another nature to my cheeks,  
Or were I common mistress to the love  
Of every swain, or could I with such ease  
Call back my love, as many a wanton doth,  
Thou mightst refuse me Shepherd, but to thee  
I am only fixed and set, let it not be  
A sport, thou gentle Shepherd, to abuse  
The love of silly maid.  Peri. 
Fair soul, ye use  
These words to little end: for know, I may  
Better call back, that time was yesterday,  
Or stay the coming night, then bring my love  
Home to myself again, or recreant prove.  
I will no longer hold you with delays,  
This present night I have appointed been,  
To meet that chaste fair (that enjoys my soul)  
In yonder grove, there to make up our loves.  
Be not deceived no longer, choose again,  
These neighbouring plains have many a comely swain,  
Fresher and freeer far than I ere was,  
Bestow that love on them and let me pass,  
Farewell, be happy in a better choice. exit  Amar. 
Cruel, thou hast struck me deader with thy voice  
Then if the angry heavens with their quick flames,  
Had shot me through: I must not leave to love,  
I cannot, no I must enjoy thee boy,  
Though the great dangers twixt my hopes and that  
Be infinite: there is a Shepherd dwells  
Down by the More, whose life hath ever shown  
More sullen discontent than Saturn's brow,  
When he sits frowning on the births of men:  
One that doth wear himself away in loneness,  
And never joys unless it be in breaking  
The holy plighted troths of mutual souls:  
One that lusts after every several beauty,  
But never yet was known to love or like,  
Were the face fairer or more full of truth,  
Than Phoebe in her fullness, or the youth  
Of smooth Lyeus, whose nigh starved flocks  
Are always scabby, and infect all sheep  
They feed withal, whose lambs are ever last,  
And die before their weaning, and whose dog,  
Looks like his Master, lean, and full of scurf,  
Not caring for the pipe or whistle: this man may  
(If he be well wrought) do a deed of wonder,  
Forcing me passage to my long desires:  
And here he comes, as fitly to my purpose  
As my quick thoughts could wish for. Enter Sullen.  Sul. 
Fresh beauty, let me not be thought uncivil,  
Thus to be partner of your loneness: 'twas  
My love (that ever working passion) drew  
Me to this place to seek some remedy  
For my sick soul: be not unkind and fair,  
For such, the mighty Cupid in his dumb  
Hath sworn to be avenged on, then give room  
To my consuming fires, that so I may  
Enjoy my long desires, and so allay  
Those flames, that else would burn my life away.  Amar. 
Shepherd, were I but sure thy heart were sound  
As thy words seem to be, means might be found  
To cure thee of thy long pains: for to me  
That heavy youth consuming misery,  
The love sick soul endures, never was pleasing,  
I could be well content with the quick easing  
Of thee & thy hot fires, might it procure  
Thy faith, and farther service to be sure.  
Name but that great work, danger, or what can  
Be compassed by the wit or art of man,  
And if I fail in my performance, may  
I never more kneel to the rising day,  Amar. 
Then thus I try thee shepherd, this same night,  
That now comes stealing on, a gentle pair  
Have promised equal love, and do appoint  
To make yond wood the place, where hands and hearts  
Are to be tied for ever: break their meeting  
And their strong faith, and I am ever thine.  Sul. 
Tell me their names, and if I do not move  
(by my great power) the centre of their love  
From his sixth being, let me never more,  
Warm me, by those fair eyes I thus adore.  Amar. 
Come, as we go I'll tell thee what they are,  
And give thee fit directions for thy work. exeunt.  Enter Cloe. 
How have I wronged the times, or men, that thus,  
After this holy feast I pass unknown,  
And unsaluted? 'twas not wont to be  
Thus frozen with the younger company  
Of jolly shepherds: 'twas not then held good,  
For lusty grooms to mix their quicker blood  
With that dull humour: most unfit to be  
The friend of man, cold and dull chastity:  
Sure I am held not fair, or am too old,  
Or else not free enough, or from my fold  
Drive not a flock sufficient great, to gain  
The greedy eyes of wealth alluring swain.  
Yet if I may believe what others say,  
My face has foil enough, nor can they lay  
justly too strict a coyness to my charge.  
My flocks are many, and the downs as large  
They feed upon: then let it ever be  
Their coldness, not my virgin modesty  
Makes me complain.  Enter Thenot. The. 
Was ever man but I,  
Thus truly taken with uncertainty?  
Where shall that man be found that loves a mind  
Made up in constancy, and dares not find  
his love rewarded? here, let all men know,  
A wretch that lives to love his mistress so.  Cloe, 
Shepherd I pray thee stay, where haste thou been,  
Or whether goest thou? here be woods as green  
As any, air as fresh and sweet,  
As where smooth Zephirus plays on the fleet  
Face of the curled streams: with flowers as many  
As the young spring gives, and as choice as any:  
Here be all new delights, cool streams and wells,  
Arbours are grown with woodbines, Caves, and dels,  
Choose where thou wilt, whilst I sit by and sing,  
Or gather rushes, to make many a ring  
For thy long fingers, tell thee tales of love,  
How the pale Phoebe hunting in a grove,  
First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes,  
She took eternal fire, that never dies,  
How she conveyed him softly in a sleep,  
His temples bound with poppy to the steep  
Head of old Latmus, where she stoops each night,  
Gilding the mountain with her brother's light  
To kiss her sweetest.  Thenot. 
Far from me are these  
Hot flashes bred from wanton heat and ease,  
I have forgot what love and loving meant,  
Rhymes, Songs, and merry rounds, that oft are sent  
To the soft ear of Maid, are strange to me:  
Only I live t'admire a chastity,  
That neither pleasing age, smooth tongue, or gold,  
Could ever break upon, so sure the mould  
Is, that her mind was cast in: 'tis to her  
I only am reserved, she is my form, I stir  
By, breath, and move: 'tis she and only she  
Can make me happy or give misery.  Cloe. 
Good Shepherd, may a stranger crave to know,  
To whom this dear observance you do owe?  Thenot 
Ye may, and by her virtue learn to square  
And level out your life: for to be fair  
And nothing virtuous, only fits the eye  
Of gaudy youth, and swelling vanity.  
Then know, she's called the virgin of the grove,  
She that hath long since buried her chaste love,  
And now lives by his grave, for whose dear soul  
She hath vowed herself into the holy role  
Of strict virginity, 'tis her I so admire,  
Not any looser blood or new desire.  Cloe. 
Farewell poor swain, thou art not for my bend,  
I must have quicker souls, whose words may tend,  
To some free action: give me him dare love  
At first encounter, and as soon dare prove.  

The Song.  
Come Shepherds come,  
Come away without delay,  
Whilst the gentle time doth stay,  
Green woods are dumb,  
And will never tell to any,  
Those dear kisses, and those many  
Sweet embraces that are given,  
Dainty pleasures that would even  
Raise in coldest age a fire,  
And give virgin blood desire.  
Then if ever,  
Now or never,  
Come and have it,  
Think not I,  
Dare deny,  
If you crave it. Enter Daphnis.   
Here comes another: better be my speed,  
Thou God of blood, but certain if I read  
Not false, this is that modest shepherd, he  
That only dare salute, but near could be  
Brought to kiss any, hold discourse, or sing,  
Whisper, or boldly ask that wished thing  
We all are borne for: one that makes loving faces,  
And could be well content to covet graces,  
Were they not got by boldness: in this thing  
My hopes are frozen, and but fate doth bring  
Him hither, I would sooner choose  
A man made out of snow, and frecer use  
An Eunuch to my ends: but since he is here,  
Thus I attempt him: Thou of men most dear,  
Welcome to her, that only for thy sake,  
Hath been content to live: here boldly take  
My hand in pledge, this hand, that never yet  
Was given away to any: and but sit  
Down on this rushy bank, whilst I go pull  
Fresh blossoms from the bows, or quickly cull  
The choicest delicates from yonder mead,  
To make thee chains or chaplets, or to spread  
Under our fainting bodies, when delight  
Shall lock up all our senses how the sight  
Of those smooth rising cheeks renew the story  
Of young Adonis, when in pride and glory  
He lay enfolded twixt the beating arms  
Of willing Venus: methinks stronger charms,  
Dwell in those speaking eyes: and on that brow  
More sweetness than the painters can allow,  
To their best pieces: not Narcissus he:  
That wept himself away in memory  
Of his own beauty, nor Silvanus' boy,  
Nor the twice ravished maid, for whom old Troy,  
Fell by the hand of Pyrrhus, may to thee,  
Be otherwise compared then some dead tree  
To a young fruitful Olive:  Daph. 
I can love, but I am loath to say so, lest I prove  
Too soon unhappy.  Cloe. 
Happy thou wouldst say,  
My dearest Daphnis, blush not if the day  
To thee and thy soft heats be enemy,  
Then take the coming night, fair youth 'tis free  
To all the world, shepherd I'll meet thee then  
When darkness hath shut up the eyes of men,  
In yonder grove: speak shall our meeting hold?  
Indeed ye are too bashful, be more bold,  
And tell me I.  Daph. 
I am content to say so,  
And would be glad to meet, might I but pray so  
Much from your fairness, that you would be true.  Cloe 
Shepheard thou hast thy wish,  Daph 
Fresh maid adieu,  
Yet one word more, since you have drawn me on  
To come this night, fear not to meet alone,  
That man that will not offer to be ill,  
Though your bright self would ask it for his fill  
Of this world's goodness: do not fear him then,  
But keep your pointed time, let other men  
Set up their bloods to sail, mine shall be ever,  
Fair as the soul it carries, and unchaste never. exit.  Cloe. 
Yet am I poorer than I was before.  
Is it not strange, among so many a score  
Of lusty bloods, I should pick out these things  
whose veins like a dull river far from springs,  
Is still the same, slow, heavy, and unfit  
For stream or motion, though the strong winds hit  
With their continual power upon his sides?  
O happy be your names that have been brides:  
And tasted those rare sweets, for which I pine,  
And far more heavy be thy grief and tine.  
Thou lazy swain that mayst relieve my needs,  
Than his upon whose liver always feeds  
A hungry vulture. Enter Alexis.  Alex. 
Can such beauty be  
Safe in his own guard, and not draw the eye  
Of him that passeth on to greedy gaze,  
Or covetous desire, whilst in a maze  
The better part contemplates, giving rain  
And wished freedom to the labouring vain?  
Fairest and whitest, may I crave to know,  
The cause of your retirement, why ye go  
Thus all alone? methinks the downs are sweeter  
And the young company of swains more meeter,  
Than these forsaken and untrodden places.  
Give not yourself to loneness, and those graces  
Hide from the eyes of men, that were intended  
To live amongst us swains.  Cloe. 
Thou art befriended,  
Shepherd in all my life, I have not seen,  
A man in whom greater contents hath been,  
Than thou thyself art: I could tell thee more,  
Were there but any hope left to restore  
My freedom lost: o lend me all thy red,  
Thou shamefast morning, when from Tithon's bed  
Thou risest ever maiden.  Alex. 
If for me,  
Thou sweetest of all sweets, these flashes be,  
Speak and be satisfied, o guide her tongue,  
My better angel, force my name among  
Her modest thoughts, that the first word may be,  Cloe. 
Alexis when the sun shall kiss the sea,  
Taking his rest by the white Thetis side,  
Meet in the holy wood, where I'll abide  
Thy coming Shepherd.  Alex. 
If I stay behind,  
An everlasting dullness and the wind,  
That as he passeth by shuts up the stream,  
Of rain or volga whilst the suns hot beam,  
Beats back again, cease me, and let me turn  
To coldness more than ice: oh how I burn  
And rise in youth and fire! I dare not stay. exit.  Cloe. 
My name shall be your word.  Alex. 
Fly fly thou day,  Cloe. 
My grief is great if both these boys should fail,  
He that will use all winds must shift his sail. Exit.    


Actus secundus Scena prima.  Enter an old shepherd with a bell ringing, and the Priest of Pan following. Priest. 
shepherds all, and maidens fair,  
Fold your flocks up, for the Air  
gins to thicken, and the Sun  
Already his great course hath run,  
See the dew drops how they kiss  
Every little flower that is:  
Hanging on their velvet heads,  
Like a rope of crystal beads.  
See the heavy clouds loud falling  
And bright Hesperus down calling,  
The dead night from under ground,  
At whose rising mists unsound,  
damps, and vapours fly apace,  
Hovering o'er the wanton face,  
Of these pastures, where they come,  
Striking dead both bud and bloom,  
Therefore from such danger lock  
Every one his loved flock,  
And let your dogs lie loose without,  
lest the Wolf come as a scout  
From the mountain, and ere day  
Bear a Lamb or Kid away:  
Or the crafty thievish Fox,  
Break upon your simple flocks,  
To secure yourselves from these,  
Be not too secure in ease,  
Let one eye his watches keep,  
Whilst the other eye doth sleep.  
So you shall good Shepherds prove,  
And for ever hold the love  
Of our great God: sweetest slumbers  
And soft silence fall in numbers  
On your eyelids: so farewell,  
Thus I end my evenings knell. exeunt.  Enter Clorin the Shepherdess sorting of herbs, and telling the natures of them. 
Now let me know what my best Art hath done,  
Helped by the great power of the virtuous moon,  
In her full light, o you sons of earth,  
You only brood, unto whose happy birth  
Virtue was given, holding more of nature  
Than man her first borne & most perfect creature.  
Let me adore you, you that only can,  
Help or kill nature, drawing out that span  
Of life and breath, even to the end of time,  
You that these hands did crop, long before prime  
Of day, give me your names, and next your hidden power.  
This is the Clote bearing a yellow flower:  
And this black Horehound, both are very good,  
For sheep or shepherd, bitten by a wood  
Dogs venomed tooth, these Ramun's branches are,  
Which stuck in entries, or about the bar  
That holds the door fast, kill all the enchantments, charms,  
Were they Medea's verses that do harms  
To men or cattle: these for frenzy be  
A speedy and a sovereign remedy.  
The bitter Wormwood, Sage, and Marigold,  
Such sympathy with man's good they do hold:  
This Tormentil whose virtue is to part  
All deadly killing poison from the heart,  
And here Narcissus' root, for swellings best:  
Yellow Lecimacus, to give sweet rest  
To the faint Shepherd, killing where it comes,  
All busy gnats, and every fly that hums,  
For leprosy, Darnell, and Sellondine,  
With Calamint, whose virtue do refine  
The blood of Man, making it free and fair,  
As the first hour it breathed, or the best air.  
Here other to, but your rebellious use,  
Is not form, whose goodness is abuse,  
Therefore foul standergrass, from me and mine  
I banish thee, with lustful Turpentine,  
You that entice the veins, and stir the heat  
To civil mutiny, scaling the seat  
Our reason moves in, and deluding it  
With dreams and wanton fancies, till the fit  
Of burning lust be quenched by appetite,  
Robbing the soul of blessedness and light:  
And thou light vermin to, thou must go after  
Provoking easy souls to mirth and laughter,  
No more shall I dip thee in water now,  
And sprinkle every post, and every bow  
With thy well pleasing juice, to make the grooms,  
Swell with high mirth as with joy all the rooms.  Enter Thenot. The. 
This is the Cabin where the best of all  
Her sex, that ever breathed, or ever shall  
Give heat or happiness to the shepherds side,  
Doth only to her worthy self abide.  
Thou blessed star, I thank thee for thy light,  
Thou by whose power the darkness of sad night  
Is banished from the earth, in whose dull place  
Thy chaster beams play on the heavy face  
Of all the world: making the blue sea smile,  
To see how cunningly thou dost beguile  
Thy brother of his brightness, giving day  
Again from Chaos whiter than that way  
That leads to jove's high Court, and chaster far  
Than chastity itself: yond blessed star  
That nightly shines, thou all the constancy  
That in all women was, or ere shallbe:  
From whose fair eyeballs flies that holy fire,  
That ports style the mother of desire,  
Infusing into every gentle breast,  
A soul of greater price, and far more blessed  
Than that quick power which gives a difference  
Twixt man and creatures of a lower sense.  Clor. 
Shepheard how camest thou hither to this place?  
No way is trodden, all the verdant grass  
The spring shot up stands yet unbruised here  
Of any foot, only the dappled deer:  
Far from the feared sound of crooked horn  
Dwells in this fastness.  Then. 
Chaster than the morn,  
I have not wandered, or by strong illusion  
Into this virtuous place have made intrusion,  
But hither am I come (believe me fair)  
To seek you out, of whose great good the Air  
Is full, and strongly labours, whilst the sound,  
Breaks against heaven, and drives into a stround  
The amazed Shepherd, that such virtue can  
Be resident in lesser than a man.  Clor. 
If any art I have, or hidden skill,  
May cure thee of disease or festered ill,  
Whose grief or greenness to another's eye,  
May seem unpossible of remedy,  
I dare yet undertake it.  Shep. 
'tis no pain  
I suffer through disease, no beating vain  
Conveys infection dangerous to the heart,  
No part impostumed to be cured by Art:  
This body holds, and yet a feller grief  
Than ever skilful hand did give relief  
Dwells on my soul, and may be healed by you,  
Fair beauteous virgin:  Clor. 
Then shepherd let me sue  
To know thy grief that man yet never knew  
The way to health, that durst not show his sore.  Shep. 
Then fairest know I love you,  Clor. 
swain no more.  
Thou hast abused the strictness of this place,  
And offered sacrilegious foul disgrace  
To the sweet rest of these interred bones,  
For fear of whose ascending fly at once,  
Thou and thy idle passions, that the sight  
Of death and speedy vengeance may not fright.  
Thy very soul with horror.  Shep. 
Let me not  
Thou all perfection merit such a blot,  
For my true zealous faith.  Clor. 
Darest thou abide  
To see this holy earth at once divide  
And give her body up, for sure it will,  
If thou pursuest with wanton flames to fill  
This hallowed place: therefore repent and go,  
Whilst I with prays appease his Ghost below,  
That else would tell thee what it were to be,  
A rival in that virtuous love, that he  
Embraces yet.  Shep. 
'tis not the white or red  
Inhabits in your cheek, that thus can wed  
My mind to adoration: nor your eye,  
Though it be full and fair, your forehead high,  
And smooth as Pelops shoulder: not the smile  
Lies watching in those dimples, to beguile  
The easy soul, your hands and fingers long,  
With veins enameled richly, nor your tongue,  
Though it spoke sweeter than Arion's Harp,  
Your hair woven into many a curious warp,  
Able in endless error to unfold  
The wandering soul, not the true perfect mould,  
Of all your body, which as pure doth show,  
In Maiden whiteness as the Alpsian snow,  
All these, were but your constancy away,  
Would please me less than a black stormy day  
The wretched Seaman toiling through the deep.  
But whilst this honoured strictness you dare keep,  
Though all the plagues that ere begotten were,  
In the great womb of air were settled here  
In opposition, I would like the tree,  
Shake off those drops of weakness, and be free  
Even in the arm of danger.  Clor. 
Wouldst thou have  
Me raise again fond man, from silent grave,  
Those sparks that long ago were buried here,  
With my dead friends cold ashes?  Shep. 
Dearest dear,  
I dare not ask it, nor you must not grant,  
Stand strongly to your vow, and do not faint:  
Remember how he loved ye, and be still,  
The same opinion speaks ye, let not will,  
And that great god of wowen Appetite,  
Set up your blood again, do not invite  
Desire, and fancy for their long exile,  
To seat them once more in a pleasing smile:  
Be like a Rock made firmly up 'gainst all  
The power of angry heaven, or the strong fall  
Of Neptune's battery, if ye yield I die  
To all affection: 'tis that loyalty  
Ye tie unto this grave I so admire,  
And yet there's something else I would desire,  
If you would hear me, but withal deny,  
O Pan, what an uncertain destiny  
Hangs over all my hopes! I will retire,  
For if I longer stay, this double fire,  
Will lick my life up.  Clor. 
Do, and let time wear out,  
What Art and Nature cannot bring about.  Shep. 
Farewell thou soul of virtue, and be blessed  
For ever, whilst I wretched rest  
Thus to myself, yet grant me leave to dwell  
In kenning of this Arbour, yond same dell  
o'er topped with mourning Cypress and sad Ewe,  
Shall be my Cabin, where I'll early rue,  
Before the Sun hath kissed this dew away,  
The hard uncertain chance which Fate doth lay  
Upon this head.  Clor. 
The Gods give quick release  
And happy cure unto thy hard disease. Exeunt.  Enter Sullen Shepherd. Sullen. 
I do not love this wench that I should meet,  
For never did my unconstant eye yet greet  
That beauty, were it sweeter or more fair,  
Than the new blossoms, when the morning air  
Blows gently on them, or the breaking light,  
When many maiden blushes to our sight  
Shoots from his early face: were all these set  
In some neat form before me, 'twould not get  
The least love from me: some desire it might,  
Or present burning: all to me in sight  
Are equal, be they fair, or black, or brown,  
Virgin, or careless wanton, I can crown  
My appetite with any: sweat as oft,  
And weep as any, melt my words as soft  
Into a maiden's ears, and tell how long  
My heart has been her servant, and how strong  
My passions are: call her unkind and cruel,  
Offer her all I have to gain the jewel  
Maidens so highly praise: then loath and fly,  
This do I hold a blessed destiny.  Enter Amarillis. Amar. 
Hail Shepherd Pan bless both thy flock & thee,  
For being mindful of thy word to me.  Sul. 
Welcome fair Shepherdess, thy loving swain  
Gives thee the self same wishes back again:  
Who till this present hour near knew that eye,  
Could make me cross mine arms or daily die  
With fresh consumings: boldly tell me then,  
How shall we part their faithful loves, and when?  
Shall I belly him to her, shall I swear  
His faith is false, and he loves everywhere?  
I'll say he mocked her the other day to you,  
Which will by your confirming show as true,  
For he is of so pure an honesty,  
To think (because he will not none will lie.  
Or else to him I'll slander Amoret,  
And say, she but seems chaste, I'll swear she met  
Me 'mongst the shady sycamores last night,  
And loosely offered up her flame and sprite,  
Into my bosom: made a wanton bed  
Of leaves and many flowers, where she spread  
Her willing body to be priest by me,  
There have I carved her name on many a tree,  
Together with mine own, to make this show  
Moreful of seeming: Hobinal you know,  
Son to the aged Shepherd of the Glen  
Him I have sorted out of many men,  
To say he found us at our private sport,  
And roused us fore our time by his resorts  
This to confirm, I have promised to the boy  
Many a pretty knack, and many a toy,  
As grins to catch him birds with bow, and bolt,  
To shoot at nimble squirrels in the holts:  
A pair of painted buskins and a lamb,  
Soft as his own locks, or the down of Swan,  
This I have done to win ye, which doth give  
Me double pleasure, discord makes me live.  Amar. 
Loved swain I thank ye, these tricks might prevail  
With other rustic shepherds, but will fail  
Even once to stir, much more to overthrow,  
His fixed love from judgement, who doth know,  
Your nature, my end, and his chosen's merit,  
Therefore some stronger way must force his spirit  
Which I have found: give second, and my love  
Is everlasting thine.  Sul. 
Try me and prove.  Amar. 
These happy pair of lovers meet straight way,  
Soon as they fold their flocks up with the day  
In the thick grove bordering upon yond hill,  
In whose hard side Nature hath carved a well:  
And but that matchless spring which Poets know,  
Was near the like to this: by it doth grow  
About the sides, all herbs which witches use,  
All simples good for medicine or abuse,  
All sweets that crown the happy nuptial day.  
With all their colours, there the month of May  
Is ever dwelling, all is young and green,  
There's not a grass on which was ever seen,  
The falling autumn or cold winter's hand  
So full of heat and virtue is the land:  
About this fountain: which doth slowly break  
Below yond mountains foot, into a creak  
That waters all the valley, giving fish  
Of many sorts, to fill the shepherds dish.  
This holy well, my grandam that is dead,  
Right wise in charms, hath often to me said,  
Hath power to change the form of any creature,  
Being thrice dipped over the head, into what feature,  
Or shape 'twould please the letter down to crave,  
Who must pronounce this charm to, which she gave  
Me on her death bed, told me what and how  
I should apply unto the patient's brow,  
That would be changed, casting them thrice asleep  
Before I trusted them into this deep.  
All this she show'd me, and did charge me prove,  
This secret of her Art, if crossed in love,  
I'll this attempt, now Shepherd I have here  
All her prescriptions and I will not fear  
To be myself dipped: come, my temples bind  
With these sad herbs, and when I sleep you find  
As you do speak your charm, thrice down me let,  
And bid the water raise me Amoret,  
Which being done, leave me to my affair,  
And ere the day shall quite itself out wear,  
I will return unto my shepherds arm,  
Dip me again, and then repeat this charm,  
And pluck me up myself, whom freely take,  
And the hot'st fire of thine affection slake.  Sul. 
And if I fit thee not, then fit not me,  
I long the truth of this well's power to see. Exeunt,   

Actus secundus Scena quarta.  Enter Daphnis 
Here will I stay, for this the covert is  
Where I appointed Cloe, do not miss:  
Thou bright eyed virgin, come, o come my fair,  
Be not abused with fear, nor let cold care  
Of honour slay thee from thy shepherds arm,  
Who would as hard be won to offer harm  
To thy chaste thoughts, as whiteness from the day,  
Or yond great round to move another way.  
My language shall be honest, full of truth,  
My flame as smooth and spotless as my youth:  
I will not entertain that wandering thought,  
Whose easy currant may at length be brought  
To a loose vastness.  
Alexis within .Cloe!  Daph. 
'tis her voice  
And I must answer, Cloe! o the choice  
Of dear embraces, chaste and holy strains  
Our hands shall give! I charge you all my veins  
Through which the blood and spirit take their way,  
Look up your disobedient heats, and stay  
Those mutinous desires, that else would grow  
To strong rebellion: do not wilder show  
Than blushing modesty may entertain.  
Alexis within .Cloe!  Daph. 
There sounds that blessed name again,  
And I will meet it: let me not mistake, Enter Alexis.  
This is some Shepherd, sure I am awake,  
What may this riddle mean? I will retire,  
To give myself more knowledge  Alex. 
Oh my fire,  
How thou consumest me? Cloe answer me,  
Alexis, strong Alexis, high, and free,  
Calls upon Cloe: see mine arms are full  
Of entertainment, ready for to pull  
That golden fruit which too too long hath hung,  
Tempting the greedy eye: thou stayest too long,  
I am impatient of these mad delays,  
I must not leave unsought those many ways  
That lead into this centre, till I find  
Quench for my burning lust, I come unkind. Exit Alexis.  Daph. 
Can my imagination work me so much ill,  
That I may credit this for truth, and still  
Believe mine eyes, or shall I firmly hold her  
Her yet untainted, and these sights but bold  
Illusion? sure such fancies oft have been  
Sent to abuse true love, and yet are seen,  
Daring to blind the virtuous though with error,  
But be they far from me with their fond terror:  
I am resolved my Cloe yet is true. Cloe within.  
Cloe hark Cloe sure this voice is new,  
Whose shrillness like the sounding of a bell,  
Tells me it is a woman: Cloe, tell  
Thy blessed name again Cloe within. Here.  
Oh what a grief is this to be so near  
And not encounter? Enter Cloe.  
Shepherd we are met,  
Draw close into the covert, lest the wet  
which falls like lazy mists upon the ground,  
Soak through your startups.  Daph. 
Fairest, are you found  
How have we wandered that the better part  
Of this good night is perished? oh my heart!  
How have I longed to meet ye? how to kiss  
Those lily hands? how to receive the bliss  
That charming tongue gives to the happy ear  
Of him that drinks your language? but I fear  
I am too much unmannered, far too rude,  
And almost grown lascivious to intrude  
These hot behaviours, where regard of fame,  
Honour, and modesty, a virtuous name,  
And such discourse, as one fair sister may  
Without offence unto the brother say,  
Should rather have been tendered, but believe  
Here dwells a better temper, do not grieve,  
Then ever kindest that my first salute,  
Seasons so much of fancy, I am mute  
Henceforth to all discourses, but shall be  
Suiting to your sweet thoughts and modesty:  
Indeed I will not ask a kiss of you,  
No not to wring your fingers, nor to sue  
To those blessed pair of fixed stars for smiles,  
All a young lovers cunning, all his wiles:  
And pretty wanton dyings shall to me  
Be strangers, only to your Chastity  
I am devoted ever.  Cloe, 
Honest swain,  
First let me thank you, then return again  
As much of my love: no thou art too cold  
Unhappy boy, not tempered to my mould,  
Thy blood falls heavy downward, 'tis not fear  
To offend in boldness wins, they never wear  
deserved favours that deny to take  
When they are offered freely: do I wake  
To see a man of his youth, years and feature,  
And such a one as we call goodly creature,  
Thus backward? what a world of precious Art,  
Were merely lost, to make him do his part?  
But I will shake him off, that dares not hold,  
Let men that hope to be beloved be bold,  
Daphnis I do desire since we are met  
So happily, our lives and fortunes set,  
Upon one stake to give assurance now,  
By interchange of hands and holy vow,  
Never to break again: walk you that way,  
Whilst I in zealous meditation stray  
A little this way when we both have ended  
These rights and duties by the woods befriended,  
And secrecy of night, retire and find  
An aged oak whose hollowness may bind  
Us both within his body, thither go:  
It stands within yond bottom  Daph. 
Be it so Exit Daphnis.  Cloe. 
And I will meet there never more with thee,  
Thou idle shamefastness, Alexis within ,Cloe!  Cloe 
'tis he.  
That dare I hope be bolder.  Alex. 
Cloe.  Cloe. 
now  
Great Pan for Syrinx's sake bid speed our plow. Exit Cloe.    


Actus tertius Scena prima.  Enter the Sullen Shepherd with Amarillis in a sleep Sull. 
From thy forehead thus I take  
These herbs, and charge thee not awake,  
Till in yonder holy well,  
Thrice with powerful magic spell,  
Filled with many a baleful word,  
Thou hast been dipped, thus with my cord  
Of blasted hemp, by moonlight twined,  
I do thy sleepy body bind,  
I turn thy head into the East,  
And thy feet into the West,  
Thy left arm to the South put forth,  
And thy right unto the North:  
I take thy body from the ground,  
In this deep and deadly sound:  
And into this holy spring,  
I let thee slide down by my string:  
Take this maid thou holy pit  
To thy bottom, nearer yet,  
In thy water pure and sweet,  
By thy leave I dip her feet:  
Thus I let her lower yet,  
That her ankles may be wet:  
Yet down lower, let her knee  
In thy waters washed be,  
There stop: Fly away Every thing that loves the day,  
Truth that hath but one face,  
Thus I charm thee from this place.  
Snakes that cast your coats for new,  
Chameleons, that alter hue,  
Hares that yearly sex's change,  
Proteus altering oft and strange,  
Hecate with shapes three,  
Let this maiden changed be,  
With this holy water wet, To the shape of Amoret:  
Cinthia work thou with my charm,  
Thus I draw thee free from harm,  
Up out of this blessed lake,  
Rise both like her and awake. She awaken  Amo. 
Speak shepherd, am I Amoret to sight?  
Or hast thou missed in any magic right?  
For want of which any defect in me,  
May make our practises discovered be?  Sull. 
By yonder moon, but that I here do stand,  
Whose breath hath thus reformed thee, and whose hand,  
Let thee down dry, and plucked thee up thus wet,  
I should myself take thee for Amoret,  
Thou art in clothes, in feature, voice and hew  
So like, that sense can not distinguish you.  Amore. 
Then this deceit which cannot crossed be,  
At once shall lose her him, and gain thee me.  
Hither she needs must come, by promise made,  
And sure his nature never was so bad,  
To bid a virgin meet him in the wood,  
When night and fear are up, but understood,  
'twas his part to come first: being come, I'll say  
My constant love made me come first and stay,  
Then will I lead him further to the grove,  
But stay you here, and if his own true love  
shall seek him here, set her in some wrong path,  
Which say her lover lately trodden hath:  
I'll not be far from hence, if need there be  
Here is another charm, whose power will free  
The dazzled sense read by the moon beams clear,  
And in my one true shape make me appear. Enter Perigot  Sul. 
Stand close, here's Perigot, whose constant heart,  
Longs to behold her, in whose shape thou art.  Peri. 
This is the place (fair Amoret) the hour  
Is yet scarce come, here every sylvan power  
Delights to be, about yon sacred well,  
Which they have blessed with many a powerful spell,  
For never travailer in dead of night,  
Nor strayed beasts have fallen in, but when fight,  
Hath failed them, then their right way they have found,  
By help of them, so holy is the ground,  
But I will farther seek, lest Amoret  
Should be first come and so stray long unmet.  
My Amoret, Amoret! Exit. Amaril .Perigot!  
Per My love! Amarill. I come my love. exit.  Sul. 
Now she hath got  
Her own desires, and I shall gainer be  
Of my long looked for hopes aswell as she;  
How bright the moon shines here, as if she strove  
To show her glory in this little grove Enter Amouret.  
To some new loved Shepherd: yonder is  
Another Amoret: where differs this  
From that, but that she Perigot hath met,  
I should have ta'en this for the counterfeit:  
Herbs, woods, and springs, the power that in you lies,  
If mortal men could know your properties.  Amo. 
methinks it is not night, I have no fear,  
Walking this wood of Lion, or of Bear,  
Whose names at other times, have made me quake,  
When any shepherdess in her tale spoke,  
Of some of them, that underneath a wood  
Have torn true lovers that together stood.  
methinks there are no goblins, and men's talk,  
That in these woods the nimble Fairy's walk,  
Are fables, such a strong heart I have got,  
Because I come to meet with Perigot,  
My Perigot, whose's that my Perigot?  Sul. 
Fair Maid.  Amo. 
Ay me thou art not Perigot.  Sul. 
But I can tell ye news of Perigot,  
An hour together under yonder tree,  
He sat with wreathed arms and called on thee,  
And said, why Amoret stayest thou so long:  
Then starting up down yonder path he flung,  
lest thou hadst missed thy way: were it day light  
He could not yet have borne him out of sight.  Amo. 
Thanks gentle Shepherd and beshrew my stay,  
That made me fearful I had lost my way:  
As fast as my weak legs, (that cannot be  
Weary with seeking him) will carry me,  
I'll follow, and for this thy care of me,  
Pray Pan thy love may ever follow thee. Exit.  Sul. 
How bright she was? how lovely did she show?  
Was it not pity to deceive her so?  
She plucked her garments up and tripped away,  
And with a virgin innocence did pray  
For me, that perjured her: whilst she was here,  
methought the beams of light that did appear,  
Were shot from her: methought the moon gave none,  
But what it had from her: she was alone  
With me, if then her presence did so move,  
Why did not I assay to win her love?  
She would not sure have yielded unto me,  
Women love only opportunity  
And not the man, or if she had denied  
Alone, I might have forced her to have tried  
Who had been stronger: o vain fool, to let  
Such blessed occasion pass, I'll follow yet,  
My blood is up, I cannot now forbear.  Enter Alexis and Cloe. 
I come sweet Amoret, soft who is here?  
A pair of lovers, he shall yield her me,  
Now lust is up, alike all women be.  Alex. 
Where shall we rest, but for the love of me,  
Cloe I know ere this would weary be.  Cloe. 
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 choose some place where out of sight,  
We freely may enjoy our stolen delight,  Alex. 
Then boldly here, where we shall near be found,  
No shepherds way lies here, 'tis hallowed ground,  
No maid seeks here her strayed Cow, or Sheep,  
Fairies and Fawns, and Satires do it keep,  
Then carelessly rest here, and clip and kiss,  
And let no fear make us our pleasures miss.  Cloe. 
Then lie by me, the sooner we begin,  
The longer ere day descry our sin.  Sul. 
Forbear to touch my love, or by yond flame  
The greatest power that shepherds dare to name,  
Here where thou first 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 satires and of fauns,  
And bid me leave I swear by her two eyes,  
A greater oath than thine, I would not rise.  Sul. 
Then from the cold earth never thou shalt move,  
But lose at one stroke both thy life and love.  Cloe. 
Hold gentle Shepherd.  Sul. 
Fairest Shepherdess,  
Come you with me, I do not love ye 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 die  
By her.  The Satire enters, he runs one way and she another. Saty. 
Now whilst theme one doth rule the sky,  
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, music 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 chastity,  
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. 
Speak again thou mortal wight,  
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 Clothes fold 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. Cloe. 
Since I beheld, you 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 furnished 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 sprite,  
Then where art thou that struck'st my love oh stray,  
Bring me thyself 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 embraced.  
But thou art fled what hope is left for me?  
I'll run to Daphnis in the hollow tree.  
Who 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 to  
Perhaps may teach him, what he ought to do. Exit,  Enter the sullen Sheappeard. 
This was the place, 'twas but my feeble sight,  
Mixed with the horror of my deed, an night,  
That shaped these fears and made me run away,  
And lose my Beauteous hardly gotten Pray,  
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 Removed.  
By her of whom it was so well beloved.  Enter perigot & Amarillis. in the shape of a Amore. 
But all these fancies must be quite for forgot,  
I must lie close here comes young Perigot,  
with subtle Amarillis in the shape,  
Of Amoret pray love he may not scape.  Amo. 
Beloved Perigot, show me some place,  
Where I may rest my Limbs, weak with the Chase  
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 herself in folds doth make,  
Here is no poison, for the Toads to feed.  
Here boldly spread thy hands, no venomed weed,  
Dares blister them, No sly my snail dare creep,  
Over thy face when thou art fast asleep,  
Here never durst the babbling cuckoo spit.  
No slough of falling Star did ever hit.  
Upon this Bank let this thy Cabin be.  
This other set with violets for me.  Amo. 
Thou dost not loue me Perigot?  Per. 
Fair maid  
You only live to hear it often said;  
You do not doubt,  Amo. 
Believe me, but I do.  Per. 
What shall we now begin again to woe,  
'tis the best way to make your lover last,  
To play with him, when you have caught him fast,  Amo. 
By I an I swear, beloved Perigot,  
And by you Moon, I think thou lovest 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 steep  
Fall one the rest a Rot among my sheep,  
I love the better, than the careful Ewe,  
The new yeaned lamb that is of her own hue,  
I dote upon thee more than that 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 devoured, and it should be my strife,  
To save thee, whom I love above, my life,  Amo: 
how should I trust thee when I see thee choose  
Another bed, and dost my side refuse,  Per: 
'twas only that the chaste thoughts, might be shown,  
Twixt thee and me, although we were alone,  Ama: 
Come Perigot will show 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;  Amo: 
To do as lovers should.  
That are to be enjoyed not to be wooed.  
there's near a shepherd esse in all the plain,  
Can kiss thee with more Art, there's none can feign.  
More wanton tricks,  Per: 
Forbear dear soul to try,  
Whether my heart be pure, I'll rather die,  
Then nourish one thought to dishonour thee,  Amo: 
Still thinkst thou such a thing as Chastity,  
Is amongst women. Perigot there's none,  
That with her love is in a wood alone,  
And wood come home a Maid be not abused,  
With thy fond first belief, let time be used,  
Why dost thou rise,  Perigot: 
My true heart, thou hast slain,  Amo. 
Faith Perigot, I'll pluck thee down again,  Per. 
Let go thou Serpent that into my breast,  
Hast with thy Cunning dived art, art not in jest;  Amo: 
Sweet love lie down,  Per: 
Since this I live to see,  
Some bitter North wind blast my flocks and me  Amo. 
You swore you loved yet will not do my will,  Per: 
O be as thou wert, once, I'll love thee still,  Amo: 
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 mislead,  
I end my life my blood be on thy head,  Amo: 
O hold thy hands thy Amoret doth cry,  Per: 
Thou counsel'st well, first Amoret shall die,  
That is the cause of my Eternal smart,  Auso: 
O hold.  Per: 
This steel shall pierce thy lustful heart, He runs after her  The Sullen shepherd steps out and uncharms her. Sullen. 
up and down everywhere,  
I strew the herbs to purge the air.  
Let your Odour drive hence,  
All mists that dazzle sense,  
Herbs and springs whose hidden mights  
altars shapes, and mocks the sight.  
Thus I charge ye to undo;  
All before I brought ye to  
Let her fly let her scape,  
Give again her own shape:  Enter Amarillis. 
For bear thou gentle swain thou dost mistake;  
She whom thou followedst fled into the brake  
And as I crossed 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 beguiled my sight;  
But far be it from me to spill the blood.  
Of harmless maids that wander in the wood, Exit  Enter Amouret. 
Many a weary step in yonder path Amouret.  
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 infects 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:  Per. 
Death is the best reward, that's due to lust;  Exit Per: Sullen. 
Now shall their love be crossed, for being struck;  
I'll throw her in the Fount least being took:  
By some Night Traveller, whose honest care,  
May help to cure her, shepherdess prepare,  
yourself 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 loved 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 injured me. He flings her into the well  Sullen. 
In this Fount be thy Grave, thou wert not meant,  
Sure for a woman, thou art so Innocent  
She cannot scape for underneath the ground,  
In a long hollow the clear spring is bound,  
Till on you side where the morn's sun doth look,  
The struggling water breaks out in a brook, Exit.  The God of the River Riseth with Amouret, in his arms God 
what powerful 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 stays and feeds,  
All have hid them in the weeds  
Here's a Mortal almost dead,  
fallen into my River head,  
Hollowed so with many a spell,  
That till now none ever fell,  
'tis a Feamale young and clear,  
Cast in by some Ravisher,  
See upon her breast a wound,  
On which there is no plaster 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 droop into thy wound  
From my watery lock more round,  
Then Orient Pearl, and far more pure,  
Then unchaste 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 stayed,  
From my banks, I pluck this flower.  
With holy hand whose virtuous 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 restored my sense, given me new breath,  
And brought me back out of the Arms of death,  God. 
I have healed thy wounds:  Amo: 
ay me,  God. 
Fear not him that succoured 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 company.  
In the Cool streams shall thou lie:  
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,  
Though 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 string.  

The Song.  
Do not fear to put thy feet,  
Naked in the River sweet,  
Think not leech, or Newt, or Toad,  
Will bite thy foot, when thou hast trod,  
Not let the water rising high  
As thou wadest in make thee cry:  
And sob, but ever live with me.  
And not a wave shall trouble thee.   Amo: 
Immortal power, there rul'st this holy flood,  
I know myself, unworthy to be wooed,  
By the a God, for ere this, but for thee:  
I should have shown my weak Mortality,  
Besides by holy Oath betwixt us twain,  
I am betrothed 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 sat.  
One my banks and from the fold,  
Tow white Lambs of three weeks Old,  
Offered to my deity,  
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 over flown,  
When their grass is newly moan,  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 non that for thy fish do look,  
Cut thy banks to dam thy Brook:  
Barefoot may no Neighbour wade:  
In thy cool streams? wife nor maid,  
When the spawns one stones do lie,  
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. Exit.  Amo: 
And I unhappy borne to be.  
Must follow him, that flies from me,  Finis Actus Tertis 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 lose  
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 trusty boarspear in my hand,  
And falling thus upon it.  Perigot to Enter, Amarillis run 
Stay thy dead doing hand thou art too hot,  
Against thyself believe me comely Swain,  
If that thou diest, not all the showers of Rain.  
The heavy Clouds send down can wash away:  
The 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 numbered as she won:  
I do not trifle, shepherd, by thee Moon,  
And all those lesser lights our eyes do view  
All that I could thee Perigot is true,  
Then be a freeman, put away despair,  
And will to die, smooth gently up that fair,  
Dejected forehead: be as when those eyes,  
Took the first heat,  Per: 
Alas he doubly dies,  
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 enamoured of his breath,  
So much, but I dare leave it, 'tis not pain,  
In forcing of a wound: nor after gain,  
Of many days, can hold me from my will,  
'tis not myself, but Amoret. bids kill  Amo.: 
Stay, but a little little but on hour,  
And if I do not show thee through the power?  
Of herbs and words I have, as dark as Night?  
myself, turned to thy Amoret, in sight?  
Her very figure, and the rob she wears;  
With tawny Buskins, and thee hook she bears  
Of thine own Carving, where your names are set,  
Wrought underneath with many a Curious fret  
The Primrose Chaplet? tawdry-lace and Ring,  
Thou gavest her for her singing with each thing,  
Else that she wears about her let me feel;  
The first tell 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; go you shall find me next?  
Under you shady Beech? even thus perplexed;  
And thus believing.  Amaril. 
Bind before I go;  
Thy soul by Pan unto me, not to do,  
Harm or outrageous wrong upon thy life,  
Till my Return.  Per. 
By Pan and by the strife;  
He had with Phoebus for the Mastery,  
When Golden Midas, judged their minstrelsy;  
I will not. Exeunt;  Enter Satire with Alexis' hurt. Satire: 
Softly gliding as I go;  
With this Burden full of woe;  
Through still silence of the night?  
Guided by the glow-worms light.  
Hither am I come at last;  
Many a Thicket have I passed;  
Not at twig that durst deny me;  
Nor a bush that durst descry me.  
To the little Bird that sleeps:  
On the tender spray nor creeps,  
That hardly 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.  
Then I when nimbly on the ground,  
I measure many a league an hour;  
But behold the happy bower,  
That must ease me of my charge,  
And by holy hand enlarge;  
The soul of this sad man that yet,  
Lies fast bound in deadly fit,  
Heaven and great Pan, sucker it,  
Hail thou beauty of the Bower,  
Whither then the Paramour:  
Of my Master; let me crave,  
Thy virtuous help to keep from Grave,  
This poor Mortal that here lies,  
Waiting when thee destinies.  
Will undo his thread of life,  
view the wound by cruel knife,  
Trenched into him.  Clor: 
What art thou? call'st me from my holy Rights  
And with the feared name of death a fright's  
My tender Ears, speak me thy name and will,  Satire 
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 be shrew his heart that pulled it,  
And his perfect Sight that Culled it,  
From the other springing blooms  
For a sweeter youth the Gwomes  
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: 
Satire: they wrong thee, that do term thee rude  
Though thou be'st outward rough and tawny hued:  
Thy manners are as gentle and as fair,  
As his who brags himself, borne only heir,  
To all Humanity: let me see thy wound:  
This Herb will stay the Currant being bound,  
Fast to the Orifice, and this restrain,  
ulcers, and swellings, and such inward pain,  
As the cold Air hath forced into the sore,  
This to, draw out such putrefying gore,  
As inward falls.  satire: 
Heaven grant it may do good,  Clor: 
Fairly wipe away the blood,  
Hold him gently till I fling,  
Water of a virtuous 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 Eyelids moving.  Clor: 
Give him breath,  
All the danger of cold death:  
Now is vanished, with this plaster:  
And this unction do I master:  
All the festered ill that may:  
Give him grief another day.  satire: 
See he gathers up his sprite  
And begins to hunt for light,  
Now 'a gapes and breathes again:  
How the blood runs to the vain:  
That east was emply.  Alexis. 
Oh 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 fly  
And leave me to this 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.  
Then 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 possible take rest.  
Till thou hast laid a side all heats, desires,  
Provoking thoughts, that stir up lusty fires.  
Commerce with wanton Eyes: strong blood and will,  
To execute these must be purged until,  
The vain grow Whiter than Repent and pray:  
Great Pan, to keep you from the like decay,  
And I shall undertake your cure with ease.  
Till when this virtuous Plasters will displease,  
Your tender sides. give me your hand and rise.  
help him a little Satire. for his Thighs.  
Yet are feeble.  Alexis. 
Sure I have lost much blood.  Satire. 
'tis no matter, 'twas not good,  
Mortal you must leave your wooing,  
Though there be alloy 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,  satire: 
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 Fairies, all her Beauty,  
I would do it so much duty,  
Do I owe those precious Eyes,  Clor: 
I thank the honest Satire, if the Cries,  
Of any other that be hurt, or ill,  
Draw thee unto them, prithee do thy will?  
To bring them hither,  Satire: 
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 deserve the little fish,  
So I take my leave and wish,  
On this bower may ever dwell,  
Spring, and summer.  Clor: 
Friend farewell. Exit.  Enter Amouret, seeking her love Amo: 
This place is Ominous for here I lost,  
My love and almost life, and since have crossed,  
All these woods over, never a Nook or dell,  
Where any little Bird, or beast doth dwell,  
But I have sought it, never a bending brow,  
Of any hill or Glade, the wind sings through,  
Nor a green bank or shade where shepherd's use,  
To sit and Riddle sweetly pipe or choose,  
Their valentines but I have missed to find.  
My love in, Perigot, Oh too unkind.  
Why hast thou fled me? whether art thou gone,  
How have I wronged thee? was my love alone,  
To thee, worthy this scorned Recompense? '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: Abyss,  
From light, and happiness, and thou mayst know,  
All this for truth and how that fatal blow,  
Thou gavest 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 divorced us, shortly shall be seen,  
A sight of so great pity that each eye,  
Shall daily spend his spring in memory.  Enter Amarillis. 
Of my untimely fall.  Amaril: 
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 madmen's fancy when the many streams,  
Of new Imagination rise and fall:  
'tis but an hour since these Ears heard her call,  
For pity to young Perigot? whilst he,  
Directed by his fury bloodily,  
Launched up her breast, 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,  
slung 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 virtuous love be Crossed, maid wipe away,  
Those heavy drops of sorrow, and allay,  
The storm that yet goes high, which not depressed,  
Breaks, heart, and life, and all before it rest:  
Thy Perigot:  Amo: 
where: which is Perigot.  Amaril 
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 yond Mountain in,  Amo: 
I go, I run Heaven grant me. I may win:  
His soul again.  Enter Sullen: 
Stay Amarillis stay,  
Ye are to fleet, 'tis two hours yet to days  
I have performed my promise let us sit;  
And warm our bloods together till the fit;  
Come lively on us;  Amaril: 
Friend you are too keen;  
The Morning, Riseth, and we shall be seen,  
For bear a little;  Sullen: 
I can stay no longer;  Amaril: 
Hold shepherd hold, learn not to be a wronger;  
Of your word, was not your promise laid,  
To break their loves first:  Sullen: 
I have done it Maid?  Amaril: 
No they are yet unbroken, met again,  
And are as hard to part yet as the stain?  
Is from the finest lawn,  Sullen. 
I say they are.  
now at this present parted, and so far,  
That they shall never meet,  Amaril 
Swain 'tis not so,  
For do but to yond hanging Mountain go,  
And there believe your eyes,  Sullen: 
you do but hold:  
Of with delays: and trifles, fare well cold,  
And frozen bashfulness, unfit for men,  
Thus I salute thee virgin,  Amaril: 
And thus then,  
I bid you follow, Catch me if ye can, Exit.  Sullen.: 
And If I stay behind I am no Man. Exit running after her  Enter Perigot. 
Night do not steal away: I woo thee yet?  
To hold a hard hand o'er the Rusty bit,  
That Guides thy Lazy team go back again,  
Bootes thou that drivest thy frozen wane,  
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 power out my sad sprite,  
Like running water never to be known:  
After the forced fall and sound is gone,  Enter Amouret looking of Perigot 
This is the bottom: speak if thou be here,  
My Perigot, thy Amoret, thy dear,  
Calls on thy loved Name,  Per: 
What 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 suffered for thy sake, and am content,  
To be thy love again why hast thou rent,  
Those curled locks, where I have often hung,  
ribbons and damask Roses, and have flung,  
Waters distilled to make thee fresh and gay,  
Sweeter than Nosegays on a Bridal day,  
Why dost thou cross thine Arms, and hang thy face,  
Down to thy Bosom, letting fall apace,  
From those too little Heavens upon the ground  
Showers of more price, more Orient, & 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 virtues of so ill intent,  
Even such a face, so fair so bright of hew,  
Had Amoret, such, words so smooth and new,  
Came flowing from her tongue, such was her eye,  
And such the pointed sparkle that did fly  
Forth like a bleeding shaft, all is the same,  
The rob, and Buskins, painted, hook, and frame,  
Of all her Body O me Amoret,  Amo: 
shepherd what means this Riddle who hath set,  
So strange a difference, twixt myself and me,  
That I am grown another, look and see.  
The Ring thou gavest me, and about my wrist.  
That Curious bracelet thou thyself didst twist.  
From those fair Tresses, knowest thou Amoret.  
Hath not some newer love forced 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,  
Sings with her head and hand as who would say  
shepherd remember this another day:  Amo: 
Am I not Amoret. where was I lost,  
Can there be Heaven, and time, and men 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 apart,  
Of all these to be found why then I see:  
Men never knew that virtue constancy  Per 
Men ever were most blessed, till Cross 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 subtle 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,  
There speedy coming, on that seek her fall,  
The hands of Cruel men more Bestial,  
And of a nature more refusing good,  
Then beasts themselves, or fishes of the flood,  
Thou art all these, and more than nature meant,  
When she created all, frowns, joys, content:  
Extreme fire for an hour, and presently:  
Colder than sleepy poison: 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 woman's mind,  Amo: 
Can there be any Age, or days, 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 always Just, and always blessed,  
In faith and promise, thou that hadst the name,  
Of virtuous given thee, and made good the same:  
Even 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 infamy,  
And I to live to know this, and by me.  
That loved thee dearer than, mine Eyes or that,  
Which we esteem our honour virgin state,  
Dearer than swallows love the early morn,  
Or dogs of Chase 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 thyself, though all,  
The self love were wîthin thee, that did fall.  
with that coy swain: hat now is made a flower  
For whose dear sake, Echo weeps many a shower  
And am I thus rewarded for my flame,  
Loved 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 lone again thy Amorett?  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 unstained, 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 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 breathe out my last, I am that maid,  
That yet untainted Amoret that played:  
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 beguiled,  
I am that Maid, that have delayed deny,  
And almost scorned the loves of all that tried,  
To win me but this swain, and yet confess,  
I have been wooed 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 not these nor they  
That sent them, did I smile one, or ere lay.  
up to my after memory but why,  
Do I resolve to grieve and not to die  
Happy had been the stroke thou gavest if home,  
By this time had I found a quiet room.  
Where every slave is free, and every breast,  
That living bread, new care, now lies at rest,  
And thither will poor Amoret,  Ver. 
Thou must,  
Was ever any man, so loath 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 hurls her again.  Amo: 
So this work hath end.  
Farewell and live be constant to thy friend,  
That loves thee next,  Enter satire: Perigot runs of. Satire. 
See the day begins to break,  
And the light shuts like a streak,  
Of subtle fire the wind blows cold,  
Whilst the morning doth unfold,  
Now the Birds begin to rouse,  
And the squirrel from the boughs,  
leaps to get him Nuts and fruit,  
The early Lark erst was mute,  
carols to the rising day,  
Many a Note, and many lay,  
Therefore here I end my watch,  
lest the wandering Swain should catch,  
Harm or lose him Amo self: ah me.  Satire: 
speak again whate'er thou be,  
I am ready speak I say,  
By the dawning of the day,  
By the power of Night and Pan;  
I enforce thee speak again,  Amo: 
O I am most unhappy.  Satire. 
Yet more blood,  
Sure these wanton Swains are wood,  
Can there be a hand, or heart,  
Dare commit so vild a part,  
As this Murder, by the Moon,  
That hid herself 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, Clorin, 
Here whilst one patient takes his rest secure  
I steal a broad to do another Cure,  
Pardon thou buried 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'er thy Grave let out my blood,  
I go by wit to Cure a lovers pain,  
Which no herb can, being done, I'll come again, Exit,  Enter Thenot 
Poor shepherd in this shade for ever lie,  
And seeing thy fair Clorin's, Cabin die,  
O hapless love which being answered ends,  
And as a little Infant cries and bends,  
His tender Brows, when rolling of his eye,  
He hath espied some thing that glisters nigh.  
Which he would have, yet give it him, away,  
He throws it straight, and cries a fresh to play  
With some thing else such my affection set,  
On that which I should loathe if I could get  Enter Clorin. 
See where he lies did ever man but he,  
Love any woman for her Constancy,  
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 loyalty,  
Shepherd look up,  Thenot 
Thy brightness doth amaze,  
So Phoebus may at Noon bid mortals gaze,  
Thy glorious constancy appears so bright,  
I dare not meet the Beams with my weak sight  Clorin. 
Why dost thou pine away thyself for me  Thenot 
Why dost thou keep such spotless constancy?  Clorin. 
Thou holy Shepherd see what for thy sake,  
Clorin, thy Clorin, now dare undertake, he starts up  Thenot. 
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,  Clorin. 
See what a holy vow, for thee I break,  
I that already have my fame far spread,  
For being constant to my lover dead  Thenot. 
think yet dear Clorin of your love, how true,  
If you had died, he would have been to you  Clorin 
Yet all I'll lose for thee.  Thenot. 
Think but how blessed,  
A constant woman is above the rest,  Clorin. 
And offer up myself, here on this ground,  
To be disposed by thee,  Thenes 
why dost thou wound,  
His heart with Malice, against women more.  
That hated all the Sex, but thee before,  
How much more pleasant had it been to me,  
To die than behold this change in thee,  
Yet, yet return: let not the woman sway,  Clorin: 
Insult not on her now, nor use delay  
Who for thy sake hath ventured all her fame,  Thenot: 
Thou hast not ventured but bought Certain shame,  
Your Sexes Curse, foul falsehood, must and shall,  
I see once in your lives light on you all;  
I hate thee now: yet turn  Clorin, 
Be just to me:  
Shall I at once lose both my fame and thee,  Thenot. 
Thou hadst no fame, that which thou didst like good  
Was but thy Appetite that swayed 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 do some one thing well.  
Yet turn.  Clorin: 
Thou dost but try me if I would.  
Forsake thy dear embraces for my old  
Loves though he were alive, but do not fear,  Thenot 
I do contemn thee now: and dare come near.  
And gaze upon thee, for methinks that grace:  
Austerity, which sat upon that face,  
Is gone, and thou like others false maid see,  
This is the gain of foul Inconstance, Exit.  Clorin: 
'tis done great: Pan, I give thee thanks for it,  
What Art could not have healed, is cured by wit,  Enter: Thenot again: 
Will ye be constant yet, will ye remove,  
Into the Cabin to your buried love,  Clorin: 
Noah let me die, but by thy side remain,  Thenot. 
there's none shall know that thou didst ever stain,  
Thy worthy strictness, but shalt honoured be  
And I will lie again under this tree,  
And pine and die for thee with more delight,  
Than I have sorrow now to know thee light,  Clorin. 
Let me have thee, and I'll be where thou wilt.  Thenot. 
Thou art of women's race and full of guilt,  
Farewell all hope of that sex, whilst I thought,  
There was one good, I feared to find one nought  
But since there minds I all alike espy  
Hence forth I'll choose as theirs, by mine eye,  Clorin. 
Blessed be ye powers that gave 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,  
then die for me.  Finis Actus quartus.   


Actus Quintus. Scena. 1.  Enter Priest, and old Shepherd. Priest. 
shepherds, rise and shake of sleep.  
See the blushing Morn doth peep,  
Through the windows, 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 lazy grooms and fill,  
bag 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,  
Go 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 easy, or the Rooms.  
filled with such new delight, and heat that they,  
Have both forgot their hungry sheep, and day,  
Knock that they may remember what a shame,  
Sloth and neclect, lays on a shepherds name.  Old. 
It is to little purpose, not a swain,  
This night hath known his lodging, here; or lain,  
Within these coats: the woods or some near town,  
that is a neighbour to the bordering down:  
Hath drawn them thither, 'bout some lusty sport;  
Or spiced wassail bowl, to which resort.  
All the young men and maids of many a coat,  
Whilst the Trim, Minstrel strikes his merry note.  Priest. 
God pardon sin, show me the way that leads,  
To any of their haunts.  Old. 
This to the Meads.  
And that down to the woods,  Priest. 
Then this for me,  
Come Shepherd let me crave your company. exeunt.  Enter Clorin in her Cabin, Allexis with her, and Amorillis Clorin. 
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.  Allexis. 
Eternal thanks to thee, thou holy maid:  
I find my former wandering thoughts, well stayed,  
Through thy wise precepts, and my outward pain,  
By thy choice herbs is almost gone again.  
Thy sex's vice and virtue are revealed,  
At once, for what one hurt another healed.  Clorin. 
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 Satire with Amouret. Amo. 
Be'st thou the wildest creature of the Wood,  
That bear'st me thus a way drowned in my blood.  
And dying, know I cannot injured be  
I am a maid, let that name fight for me:  Satire. 
Fairest Virgin do not fear,  
Me that doth thy body bear,  
Not to hurt, but held 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 a touched asleep or wake,  
So sweet that Adder, newt, 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,  Clorin. 
With spotless hand, on spotless Breast,  
I put these herbs to give thee rest.  
Which till it heal thee there will bide  
If both be pure, if not of slide.  
See it falls of from the wound,  
shepherdess thou art not sound,  
Fall of lust.  Satire. 
Who would have thought it,  
So fair a face:  Clorin. 
Why that hath brought it.  Amo. 
For aught I know or think, these words my last:  
Yet Pan, so help me as my thoughts are chaste.  Clorin. 
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.  
Satire search if thou canst find it,  Satire. 
Here away methinks I wind it.  
Stronger yet, Oh here they be,  
Here here in a hollow tree.  
Two fond mortals have I found,  Clorin. 
Bring them out they are unsound.  Enter Cloe, and Daphinis. Satire. 
By the fingers thus I wring ye,  
To my Goddess thus I bring ye.  
Strife is vain come gently in,  
I scented them, they are full of sin,  Clorin. 
Hold Satire, take this Glass,  
Sprinkle over all the place,  
Purge the Air from lustful breath,  
To save this Shepherdess from death.  
And stand you still, whilst I do dress  
Her wound for fear the pain increase,  Satire. 
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 wholesome, sweet & blessed,  
Till this virgin's wound be dressed,  Clorin. 
Satire help to bring her in,  Satire. 
By Pan, I think she hath no sin.  
She is so light, lie on these leaves,  
Sleep that mortal sense deceives.  
Crown thine eyes, and ease thy pain,  
Mayst thou soon be well again,  Clorin. 
Satire bring the Shepherd near,  
Try him if his mind be clear,  Satire. 
Shepheard come,  Daphinis. 
My thoughts are pure,  
The better trial to endure.  Satire. 
In this flame his finger thrust,  Clorin. 
Which will burn him if he lust.  
But if not away will turn,  
As loath unspotted flesh to burn:  
See it gives back let him go.  
Farewell Mortal keep thee so.  Satire. 
Stay fair Nymph, fly not so fast,  
we must try if yond be chaste:  
Here's a hand that quakes for fear,  
Sure she will not prove so clear:  Clorin. 
Hold her finger to the flame:  
That will yield her praise or shame.  Satire. 
To her doom she dares not stand,  
But plucks away her tender hand:  
And the Taper darting sends,  
His hot beams at her finger's ends.  
O thou art foul within, and haste;  
A mind if nothing else unchaste.  Alexis. 
Is not that Cloe? 'tis my love; 'tis she:  
Cloe, fair Cloe.  Cloe. 
My Alexis. Alexis: He.  Cloe. 
Let me embrace thee.  Clorin. 
Take her hence, lest her sight disturb his sense.  Alexis. 
Take not her: take my life first.  Clorin. 
See his wound again is burst,  
Keep her near here in the wood.  
Till I have stopped 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 them out, with trouble and much pain:  
That have a Ripe desire, and forward will,  
To fly the company of all, but ill:  
What shall be counselled: 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's mist do not beguile,  
My sight with shadows: sure I see a swain  
One of this jolly troops come back again.  Enter Thenot. Priest. 
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 fall off, and say  
Thou art regardless both of good and shame,  
Spurning at virtue, and a virtuous name:  
And like a glorious desperate man, that buys,  
A poison 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 & grow ambitious,  
Through their own wanton fire, and pride delicious.  Thenot. 
Right holy Sir I have not known this night,  
What the smooth face of Mirth was: or the sight,  
Of any looseness, music, joy and ease,  
Have been to me, as bitter drugs to please  
A Stomach lost with weakness, not a game  
That I am skilled at throughly, nor a dame,  
Went her tongue smother than the feet of Time,  
Her bevy ever living like the Rhyme,  
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 traveler 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 woman's eye.  Priest. 
Then wherefore hast thou wandered.  Thenot. 
'twas a vow,  
that drew me out last night, which I have now,  
Strictly performed, and homewards go to give  
fresh pasture to my sheep, that they may live.  Priest. 
'tis good to hear ye Shepherd if the heart,  
In this well sounding Music bear his part;  
Where have you left the rest,  
I have not seen,  
Since yesternight, we met upon this green,  
To fold our flocks up, any of that train  
Yet have I walked these woods round and have lain  
All this long night under an aged tree.  
Yet neither wandering Shepherd did I see,  
Or Shepherdess, or drew into mine ear,  
The sound of living thing unless it were,  
The Nightingale, among the thick leaved spring  
That fits 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.  Thenot. 
Father 'tis my care. Exit Thenot.  Enter Daphnis. Old. 
Here comes another straggler, sure I see,  
A shame in this young Shepherd Daphinis,  Daphnis. 
He,  Priest. 
Where hast left the rest, that should have been  
Long before this, grazing upon the green:  
Their yet imprisoned flocks,  Daph. 
Thou holy man.  
Give me a little breathing till I can,  
Be able to unfold what I have seen,  
Such horror 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 chaste Clorin, lives by whose great power,  
Sick men and cattle have been often cured,  
There lovely Amoret, that was assured,  
To lusty Perigot: bleeds out her life:  
Forced by some iron hand and fatal knife,  
And by her young Alexis.  Enter Amarillis running from her sullen shepherd. 
If there be  
Ever a Neighbor-brook or hollow tree,  
Receive my body, close me up from lust,  
That follows at my heels, be ever just,  
Thou God of shepherds: Pan for her dear sake,  
That loves the rivers brinks, and still doth shake,  
In cold remembrance of thy quick pursuit:  
Let me be made a reed, and ever mute,  
Nod to the waters fall, whilst every blast,  
Sings through my slender leaves that I was chaste:  Priest. 
This is a night of wonder, Amarill,  
Be Comforted, the holy gods are still,  
Revengers of these wrongs.  Amar. 
Thou blessed man,  
Honoured upon these plains and loved of Pan:  
Hear me, and save from endless infamy,  
My yet unblasted flower Virginity  
By all the Garlands that have crowned that head,  
By thy chaste office, and the marriage bed,  
That still is blessed by thee: by all the rights  
Due to our God: and by those virgin lights,  
That burn before his Altar: let me not,  
Fall from my former state to gain the blot  
That never shall be purged.  
I am not now,  
That wanton Amarillis: here I vow,  
To Heaven, and thee grave father, if I may,  
Scape this unhappy Night, to know the day,  
A virgin, never after to endure  
The tongues, or company of men unpure.  
I hear him, come, save me.  Priest 
Retire a while,  
Behind this bush, till we have known that vile  
Abuser of young maidens.  Enter Sullen. 
Stay thy pace,  
Most loved Amarillis: let the chase,  
grow calm and milder, fly me not so fast,  
I fear the pointed Brambles have unlaced  
Thy golden Buskins, turn again and see:  
Thy Shepherd follow, that is strong and free,  
Able to give thee all content and case,  
I am not bashful virgin, I can please:  
At first encounter hug thee in mine arm,  
And give thee many kisses, soft and warm,  
As those the Sun prints on thy smiling cheek,  
Of Plums or mellow peaches I am sleek,  
And smooth as Neptune when stern Aeolus,  
Locks up his surly winds and nimbly thus,  
Can show my Active youth why dost thou fly.  
Remember Amarillis it was I,  
That killed Alexis for thy sake, and set,  
An everlasting hate twixt Amoret,  
And her beloved Perigot 'twas I,  
That drowned her in the well, where she must lie,  
Till time shall leave to be, then turn again:  
Turn with thy open arms and clip the swain  
That hath performed all this, turn turn I say:  
I must not be deluded,  Priest. 
Monster stay,  
Thou that art like a canker to the state,  
Thou livest and breathest in, eating with debate,  
Through every honest bosom, forcing still,  
The veins of any men, may serve thy will.  
Thou that hast offered with a sinful hand,  
To seize upon this virgin that doth stand,  
yet trembling here.  Sullen. 
Good holiness declare,  
What had the danger been if being bare,  
I had embraced her, tell me by your Art:  
What coming wonders wood that fight impart.  Priest. 
Lust, and branded soul,  Sullen. 
Yet tell me more,  
Hath not our Mother Nature for her store,  
And great increase, said it is good and just,  
And willed that every living creature must,  
Beget his like.  Priest. 
Ye are better read than I,  
I must confess in Blood and Lechery:  
Now to the Bower and bring this beast along,  
Where he may suffer Penance for his wrong,  Enter Perigot with his hand bloody, Per. 
Here will I wash it in the morning's dew,  
Which she on every little grass doth strew,  
In silver drops against the Suns appear:  
'tis holy water and will make me clear.  
My hand will not be cleansed, my wronged love,  
If thy chaste spirit in the Air yet move,  
Look mildly down on him that yet doth stand,  
All full of guilt thy blood upon his hand,  
And though I struck thee undeservedly,  
Let my revenge on her that Injured thee.  
Make less a fault which I intended not,  
And let these dew drops wash away my spot,  
It will not cleanse, O to what sacred flood,  
Shall I resort to wash away this blood:  
Amidst these Trees the holy Clorin. dwells,  
In a low Cabin, of cut boughs and heals,  
All wounds, to her I will myself a dress,  
And my rash faults repentantly confess:  
Perhaps she'll find a means by Art or prayer,  
To make my hand with chaste blood stained, fair  
That done not far hence underneath some tree,  
I'll have a little Cabin built since she,  
Whom I adore is dead, there will I give,  
myself to strictness and like Clorin live. exit.  The Curtain is drawn, Clorin appears sitting in the Cabin, Amouret sitting on the on side of her, Allexis and Cloe on the other, the Satire standing by. Clorin. 
Shepherd once more your blood is stayed,  
Take example by this maid,  
Who is healed ere you be pure,  
so hard it is lewd lust to cure,  
Take heed then how you turn your eyes  
On these other lust fully,  
And shepherdess take heed least you,  
Move his willing eye thereto,  
Let no wring, nor pinch, nor smile  
Of yours, his weaker sense beguile,  
Is your love yet true and chaste,  
And for ever so to last.  Alexis. 
I have forgot all vain desires,  
All looser thoughts, ill tempered fires,  
True love I find a pleasant fume,  
Whose moderate heat can near consume.  Cloe. 
And I a new fire feel in me,  
Whose base end is not quenched to be.  Clorin. 
join your hands with modest touch,  
And for ever keep you such.  Enter Perigot. Perigot. 
Yond is her cabin, thus far off i'll stand,  
And call her forth, for my unhallowed hand,  
I dare not bring so near yon sacred place,  
Clorin come forth and do a timely grace,  
To a poor swain,  Clorin 
What art thou that dost call?  
Clorin is ready to do good to all.  
Come near.  Per. 
I dare not. Clorin. Satire, see  
Who it is that calls on me.  Satire 
there's a hand some swain doth stand,  
Stretching out a bloody hand.  Per. 
Come Clorin bring thy holy waters clear,  
To wash my hand.  Clorin. 
What wonders have been here  
tonight stretch forth thy hand young swain,  
Wash and rub it whilst I rain  
Holy water.  Per 
Still you power,  
But my hand will never scour.  Clorin 
Satire bring him to the bower  
we will try the sovereign power  
Of other waters.  Satire 
Mortal sure,  
'tis the blood of maiden pure  
That stains he so.  The Satire leadeth him to the Bower, where he spieth Amouret & kneeleth down: she knoweth him, Perigot 
whatever thou be.  
Be'st thou her sprite, or some divinity,  
That in her shape thinks good to walk this grove,  
Pardon poor Perigot  Amor. 
I am thy love.  
Thy Amoret. for evermore thy love:  
Stick once more on my naked breast, I'll prove  
As constant still, O canst thou love me yet,  
How soon could I my former griefs forget.  Perig. 
So over great with joy, that you live now  
I am, that no desire of knowing how  
doth seize me; hast thou still power to forgive,  Amor. 
Whilst thou hast power to love, or I to live,  
More welcome now then hadst thou never gone  
A stray from me.  Per. 
And when thou lov'st alone  
And not I, death or some lingering pain  
That's worse, light on me.  Clorin. 
Now your stain  
Perhaps will cleanse, thee once again  
See the blood that erst did stay,  
With the water drops away:  
All the powers again are pleased,  
And with this new knot are appeased:  
join your hands, and rise together,  
Pan be blessed that brought you hither.  Enter Priest & old Shepherd. Clorin. 
Go back again whate'er thou art: unless  
Smooth maiden thoughts possess thee, do not press  
This hallowed ground, go Satire take his hand,  
And give him present trial.  Satire 
Mortal stand.  
Till by fire, I have made known  
Whether thou be such a one,  
That mayst freely tread this place,  
Hold thy hand up, never was,  
More untainted flesh then this,  
Fairest he is fall of bliss.  Clorin. 
Then boldly speak why dost thou seek this place,  Priest. 
First honoured virgin to behold thy face,  
Where all good dwells, that is, next for to try  
The truth of late report, was given to me:  
Those shepherds that have met with foul mischance,  
Through much neglect, and more ill governance,  
Whether the wounds they have may yet endure  
The open air, or stay a longer cure,  
And lastly what the doom may be, shall light  
Upon those guilty wretches, through whose spite  
All this confusion full. For to this place,  
Thou holy maiden have I brought the race,  
Of these offenders, who have freely told,  
Both why, and by what means, they gave this bold  
Attempt upon their live.  Clorin. 
Fume all the ground,  
And sprinkle holy water, for unsound  
And foul Infection gins to fill the Air  
It gathers yet more strongly,  
Of Censors filled with frankincense and myrrh.  
Together with cold Camphire, quickly stir.  
The gentle Satire, for the place begins  
To sweat and labour, with the abhorred sins  
Of those offenders, let them not come nigh,  
For full of itching flame and leprosy,  
Their very souls are, that the ground goes back,  
And shrinks to feel the sullen weight of black  
And so unheard of venom, high thee fast,  
Thou holy man, and banish from the chaste,  
These manlike monsters, let them never more  
Be known upon thes downs, but long before,  
The next suns rising, put them from the sight,  
And memory of every honest wight.  
Be quick in expedition, lest the sores  
Of these weak patients, break into new gores Exit Priest.  Per. 
My dear dear Amoret, how happy are,  
Those blessed pairs, in whom a little jar  
Hath bred an everlasting love, too strong  
For time or steel, or envy to do wrong,  
How do you feel your hurts, a lass poor heart  
How much I was abused, give me the smart  
For it is justly mine.  Amo. 
I do believe.  
It is enough dear friend, leave off to grieve,  
And let us once more in despite of ill,  
Give hands, and hearts again  Per. 
with better will,  
Than ere I went to find, in hottest day  
Cool Christ all of the fountain, to allay  
My eager thirst, may this band never break,  
Hear us o heaven.  Amo. 
Be constant.  Per. 
Else Pan wreak  
With double vengeance, my disloyalty.  
Let me not dare to know the company  
Of men, or any more behold those eyes.  Amo. 
Thus shepherd with a kiss all envy dies.  Enter Priest. Priest 
Bright Maid, I have performed your will, the swain  
In whom such heat, and black rebellion's reign  
Hath undergone your sentence:  
Only the maid I have reserved, whose face  
shows much amendment, many a tear doth fall  
In sorrow of her fault, great fair recall  
Your heavy doom, in hope of better days  
Which I dare promise: once again, upraise  
her heavy Spirit, that near drowned lies  
In self consuming care that never dies.  Clorin. 
I am content to pardon: call her in,  
The air grows cool again, and doth begin  
To purge itself, how bright the day doth show  
After this stormy cloud, go Satire go,  
And with this taper boldly try her hand.  
If she be pure and good, and firmly stand  
to be so still: we have performed a work  
worthy the gods themselves Satire brings Amarillis in.  Satire 
Come forward Maiden, do not lurk  
Nor hide your face with grief & shame,  
Now or never get a name,  
That may raise thee, and recure,  
All thy life that was impure,  
Hold your hand unto the flame,  
If thou be'st a perfect dame:  
Or hast truly vowed to mend,  
This pale fire will be thy friend.  
See the Taper hurts her not,  
Go thy ways let never spot,  
Henceforth cease upon thy blood.  
Thank the Gods and still be good.  Clorin. 
Young shepherdess now, ye are brought again  
To virgin state, be so, and so remain  
To thy last day, unless the faithful love  
Of some good shepherd force thee to remove,  
Then labour to be true to him, and live  
As such a one, that ever strives to give  
A blessed memory to after Time:  
Be famous for your good, not for your crime.  
Now holy man, I offer up again  
These patients full of health, and free from pain  
Keep them, from after ills, be ever near  
Unto their actions: teach them how to clear,  
The tedious way they pass though, from suspect  
Keep them from wrong in others, or neglect  
Of duty in themselves, correct the blood,  
With thrifty bits and labour, let the flood,  
Or the next neighbouring spring give remedy  
To greedy thirst, and travail, not the tree  
That hangs with wanton clusters, let not wine  
Unless in sacrifice or rights divine,  
Be ever known of shepherds, have a care,  
Thou man of holy life, Now do not spare,  
Their faults through much remissness, not forget,  
To cherish him, whose many pains and sweat,  
Hath given increase, and added to the downs.  
Sort all your Shepherds from the lazy clowns:  
That feed their heifers in the budded Brooms,  
Teach the young maidens strictness that the grooms  
May ever fear to tempt their blowing youth,  
Banish all complement but single truth.  
From every tongue, and every shepherds heart,  
Let them use persuading, but no Art:  
Thus holy Priest, I wish to thee and these,  
All the best goods and comforts that may please,  All. 
And all those blessings Heaven did ever give,  
we pray upon this Bower may ever live.  Priest. 
Kneel every Shepherd, whilst with powerful hand,  
I bless you after labours, and the Land.  
You feed your flocks upon Great Pan defend you.  
From misfortune and amend you,  
Keep you from those dangers still,  
That are followed by your will:  
Give ye means to know at length,  
All your Riches all your strength.  
Cannot keep your foot from falling,  
To lewd lust, that still is calling,  
At your cottage, till his power,  
Bring again that golden hour:  
Of peace and rest, to every soul.  
May his care of you control,  
All diseases, sores or pain,  
That in after time may reign,  
Either in your flocks or you,  
Give ye all affections new.  
New desires and tempers new,  
That ye may be ever true.  
Now rise and go, and as ye pass away,  
Sing to the God of sheep, that happy lay:  
That honest Dorus taught ye, Dorus he,  
That was the soul and God of melody.  

Song.  
the all sing .All ye Woods, and Trees, and Bowers,  
All ye virtues, and ye powers:  
That inhabit in the lakes,  
In the pleasant springs or brakes.  
Move your feet,  
to our sound:  
Whilst we greet,  
all this ground.  
With his honour and his name.  
That defends our flocks from blame.   

He is great, and he is just,  
He is ever good and must:  
Thus be honoured, Daffodils,  
Roses, Pinks, and loved lilies.  
Let us fling,  
Whilst we sing,  
Ever holy,  
Ever holy.  
Ever honoured, ever young,  
Thus great Pan is ever sung. Exeunt.   Satire. 
Thou divinest, fairest, brightest,  
Thou most powerful maid, and whitest.  
Thou most virtuous, and most blessed,  
Eyes of Stars and Golden Tressed,  
Like Apollo, tell me sweetest,  
What new service now is meetest.  
For thee Satire shall I stray,  
In the middle Air and stay,  
Thy sailing Rack or nimbly take,  
Hold by the Moon, and gently make.  
Suit to the pale Queen of the night,  
For a Beam to give thee light,  
Shall I dive into the Sea,  
And bring the coral making way,  
Through the rising waves that fall,  
In snowy fleeces, dearest shall,  
I catch the wanton fawns, or flies,  
Whose woven wings the Summer dies,  
For many colours get thee fruit,  
Or steal from Heaven old Orpheus' Lute  
All these I venture for and more,  
To do her service, all these Woods adore  Clorin. 
No other Service Satire but thy watch,  
About these Thicks least harmless people catch,  
Mischief or sad mischance.  Satire. 
Holy virgin, I will dance,  
Round about these woods as quick,  
As the breaking light, and prick,  
Down the lawns, and down the vales,  
Faster than the Windmill sails.  
So I take my leave and pray,  
All the comforts of the day:  
Such as Phoebus' heat doth send,  
On the Earth may still be friend,  
Thee and this Arbour.  Clorin. 
And to thee,  
All thy master's love be free. exeunt.  
The Pastoral of the faithful Shepherdess.   
FINIS.