Source text for this digital edition:
Fletcher, John. The Faithful Shepherdess. 1610. In: Mueller, Martin (gen. ed.) Shakespeare His Contemporaries Northwestern University. [Accessed: 28 October 2016]

Note on this digital edition

This electronic transcription comes from the original-spelling text in the Shakespeare His Contemporaries project, which offers curated versions of texts from Early English Books Online - Text Creation Partnership. It differs in textual corrections (detailed in the appendix) made with reference to the transcription in the English Drama collection published by Chadwyck-Healey, and in assigning role identifiers to speakers. This curation has been carried out by Sonia Sofía Perelló.
The SHC source text has been re-encoded by Jesús Tronch Pérez in order to be used in the databases of the EMOTHE project and of the HIERONIMO project.
As from October 2017 the Shakespeare His Contemporaries site is obsolete and its project is incorporated into EarlyPrint.

With the support of research project GVAICO2016-094, funded by Generalitat Valenciana (2016-2017).

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THE
FAITHFVLL
Shepheardesse.

By IOHN FLETCHER.

Printed at London for R. Bonian
and H. Walley, and are to be sold at
the spred Eagle ouer against the
great North dore of S. Paules.

To that noble and true louer of earning, Sir VVALTER ASTON knight of the Bath.

SIr I must aske your patience, and be trew.
This play was neuer liked, vnlesse by few
That brought their iudgements with vm, for of late
First the infection, then the common prate
Of common people, haue such customes got
Either to silence plaies, or like them not.
Vnder the last of which this interlude,
Had falne for euer prest downe by the rude
That like a torrent which the moist south feedes,
Drowne's both before him the ripe corne and weedes:
Had not the sauing sence of better men
Redeem'd it from corruption: (deere Sir then)
Among the better soules, be you the best
In whome, as in a Center I take rest,
And propper being: from whose equall eye
And iudgement, nothing growes but puritie:
Nor do I flatter) for by all those dead,
Great in the muses, by Apolloes head,
He that ads any thing to you; tis done
Like his that lights a candle to the sunne:
Then be as you were euer, your selfe still
Moued by your iudgement, not by loue, or will
And when I sing againe as who can tell
My next deuotion to that holy well,
Your goodnesse to the muses shall be all,
Able to make a worke Heroyicall. Giuen to your seruice IOHN FLETCHER.

To the inheritour of all worthines, Sir William Scipwith. Ode.

If from seruile hope or loue,
I may proue
But so happy to be thought for
Such a one whose greatest ease
Is to please
Worthy sir) I haue all I sought for,
For no ich of greater name,
which some clame
By their verses do I show it
To the world; nor to protest
Tis the best
These are leane faults, in a poet
Nor to make it serue to feed
at my neede
Nor to gaine acquaintance by it
Nor to rauish kinde Atturnies,
in their iournies.
Nor to read it after diet
Fare from me are all these Ames
Fittest frames
To build weakenesse on and pitty
Onely to your selfe, and such
whose true touch
Makes all good; let me seeme witty. The Admirer of your vertues, IOHN FLETCHER.

To the perfect gentleman Sir Robert Townesend.

IF the greatest faults may craue
Pardon where contrition is
Noble Sir) I needes must have
A long one; for a long amisse
If you aske me (how is this)
Vpon my faith Ile tell you frankely,
You loue aboue my meanes to thanke yee.
Yet according to my Talent
As sowre fortune loues to vse me
A poore Shepheard I haue sent,
In home-spun gray for to excuse me.
And may all my hopes refuse me:
But when better comes ashore,
You shall haue better, newer, more.
Til when, like our desperate debters,
Or our three pild sweete protesters
I must please you in bare letters
And so pay my debts; like iesters,
Yet I oft haue seene good feasters,
Onely for to please the pallet,
Leaue great meat and chuse a fallet. All yours Iohn Fletcher:

To The Reader.

IF you be not reasonably assurde of your knowledge in this kinde of Poeme, lay downe the booke or read this, which I would wish had bene the prologue. It is a pastorall Tragic-comedie, which the people seeing when it was plaid, hauing euer had a singuler guise in defining, concluded to be a play of coūtry hired Shepheards, in gray cloakes, with curtaild dogs in strings, sometimes laughing together, and sometimes killing one another: And missing whitsun ales, creame, wassel & morris-dances, began to be angry. In their error I would not haue you fall, least you incurre their censure. Vnderstand therefore a pastorall to be a representation of shepheards and shepheardesses, 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 adorn'd 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 vertues of hearts, & fountaine the ordinary course of the Sun, moone, and starres, and such like. But you are euer to remember Shepherds to be such, as all the ancient Poets and moderne of vnderstanding haue receaued them: that is, the owners of flockes and not hyerlings A tragic-comedie is not so called in respect of mirth and killing, but in respect it wants deaths, which is inough to make it no tragedie, yet brings some neere it, which is inough to make it no comedie: which must be a representation of familiar people, with such kinde of trouble as no life be questiond, so that a God is as lawfull in this as in a tragedie, and meane people as in a comedie. Thus much I hope will serue to iustifie my Poeme, and make you vnderstand it, to teach you more for nothing, I do not know that I am in conscience bound. Iohn Fletcher.

To my lou'd friend M. Iohn Fletcher, on his Pastoralls

CAn my approouement (Sir) be worth your thankes?
Whose vnknowne name and muse (in swathing clowtes)
Is not yet growne to strength, among these rankes
To haue a roome and beare off the sharpe flowtes
Of this our pregnant age, that does despise
All innocent verse, that lets alone her vice.
But I must iustifie what priuately,
I censurd to you: my ambition is
(Euen by my hopes and loue to Poesie)
To liue to perfect such a worke, as this,
Clad in such elegant proprietie
Of words, including a mortallitie.
So sweete and profitable, though each man that heares,
(And learning has enough to clap and hisse)
Ariues not too't, so misty it appeares;
And to their filmed reasons, so amisse:
But let Art looke in truth, she like a mirror,
Reflects her comfort, ignorances terror
Sits in her owne brow, being made afraid,
Of her vnnatural complexion,
As ougly women (when they are araid
By glasses) loath their true reflection,
Then how can such opinions iniure thee,
That tremble, at their owne deformitie?
Opinion, that great foole, makes fooles of all,
And (once) I feard her till I met a minde
Whose graue instructions philosophicall,
Toss'd it like dust vpon a march strong winde,
He shall for euer my example be,
And his embraced doctrine grow in me.
His soule (& such commend this) that commaund
Such art, it should me better satisfie,
Then if the monster clapt his thousand hands,
And drownd the sceane with his confused cry;
And if doubts rise, loe their owne names to cleare'em
Whilst I am happy but to stand so neere'em. N. F.

To my friend Maister Iohn Fletcher, vpon his faithfull Shepheardesse.

I Know too well that no more then the man
That trauels through the burning desarts, can
When he is beaten with the raging sunne,
Halfe smotherd with the dust, haue power to runne
From a coole riuer, which himselfe doth finde,
Ere he be slak'd: no more can he whose minde
Ioies in the muses, hold from that delight,
When nature, and his full thoughts bad him write,
Yet wish I those whome I for friends haue knowne,
To sing their thoughts to no eares but their owne:
Why should the man, whose wit nere had a staine,
Vpon the publike stage present his vaine,
And make a thousand men in iudgement sit,
To call in question his vndoubted wit,
Scarce two of which can vnderstand the lawes
Which they should iudge by, nor the parties cause,
Among the rout there is not one that hath
In his owne censure an explicite faith.
One company knowing they iudgement lacke,
Ground their beliefe on the next man in blacke:
Others, on him that makes signes, and is mute,
Some like as he does in the fairest sute,
He as his mistres doth, and she boy chance,
Nor wants there those, who as the body doth dance
Betweene the actes, will censure the whole play:
Some like if the wax lights be new that day:
But multitudes there are whose iudgements goes
Headlong according to the actors clothes.
For this, these publicke things and I, agree
So ill, that but to do aright to thee,
I had not bene perswaded to haue hurld
These few, ill spoken lines, into the world,
Both to be read, and censurd of, by those,
Whose very reading makes verse senceles prose,
Such as must spend aboue an houre, to spell
A challenge on a post, to know it well,
But since it was thy happe to throw away,
Much vvit, 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 scornd,
To be with so much will and art adornd.
Bisides one vantage more in this I see,
Your censurers must haue the quallitie
Of reading, which I am affraid is more
Then halfe your shreudest iudges had before. Fr. Beaumont.

The faithfull Shepheardesse.

Actus primi, Scena prima.

Enter Clorin a Shepheardesse hauing buried her loue in an Arbour.

HAile holy earth, whose colde armes do embrace

The truest man that euer fed his flockes:

By the fat plaines of fruitfull Thessaly,

Thus I salute thy graue, thus do I pay

My early vowes and tribute of mine eies,

To thy still loued ashes: thus I free

My selfe from all ensuing heates and fires

Of loue, all sports, delights and games,

That Shepheards hold full deares thus put I off.

Now no more shall these smooth browes be girt,

With youthfull coronals, and lead the dance,

No more the company of fresh faire Maids

And wanton shepheards be to me delightfull.

Nor the shrill pleasing sound of merry pipes,

Vnder some shady dell when the coole winde

Plaies on the leaues, all be farre away:

Since thou art farre away: by whose deare side,

How often haue I sat crownd with fresh flowers

For Summers queene, whilst euery Shepheards boye

Puts on his lustly greene with gaudy hooke,

And hanging scrippe of finest cordeuan:

But thou art gone, and these are gone with thee,

And all are dead but thy deare memorie:

That shall outliue thee, and shall euer spring,

Whilst there are pipes, or Iolly shepheards sing.

And heere will I, in honor of thy loue,

Dwell by thy graue, forgetting all those ioyes,

That former times made precious to mine eies:

Onely remembring what my youth did gaine,

In the darke hidden vertuous vse of hearbs:

That I will I practise, and as freely giue

All my endeauours, as I gaind them free.

Of all greene wounds I know the remedies,

In men or cattell, be they stung with snakes,

Or charmd with powerfull words of wicked art,

Or be they loue-sicke, or through too much heat

Growne wilde or lunaticke, their eies or eares

Thickned with misty filme of dulling rume,

These I can cure, such secret vertue lies

In hearbs applyed by a virgins hand:

My meat shall be what these wilde woods affoord,

Berries, and Chesnuts, Plantains, on whose cheeks

The Sun sits smiling, and the lofty fruit

Puld from the faire head of the straite grown pine:

On these Ile feede with free content and rest,

When night shal blinde the world, by thy side blest.

Enter a Satyre.

Sat.

Through yon same bending plaine,

That flings his armes downe to the maine,

And through these thicke woods haue I runne,

whose bottome neuer kist the Sunne

Since the lusty spring began,

All to please my Maister Pan,

Haue I trotted without rest

To get him fruit, for at a feast,

He entertaines this comming night,

His Paramoure the Syrinx bright:

But behold a fairer sight

stands amazed.

By that heauenly forme of thine,

Brightest faire thou art deuine:

Sprong from great immortall race

Of the Gods: for in thy face,

Shines more awfull maiesty,

Then dull weake mortalitie

Dare with misty eies behould

And liue, therefore on this mould,

Lowly do I bend my knee,

In worship of thy dietie,

Deigne it Goddesse from my hand,

To receiue what ere this land,

From her firtile wombe doth send

Of her choise fruites: and but lend,

Beliefe to that the Satyre tels,

Fairer by the famous wells,

To this present day nere grewe,

Neuer better nor more true,

Heere be grapes whose lusty blood,

Is the learned Poets good,

Sweeter yet did neuer crowne,

The head of Bacchus, nuts more browne

Then the squirrels teeth that cracke them,

Deigne ô fairest faire to take them,

For these black ey'd Driope,

Hath often times commaunded me,

With my clasped knee to clime,

See how well the lusty time,

Hath deckt their rising cheekes in red,

Such as on your lips is spred,

Heere be berries for a Queene,

Some be red, some be greene:

These are of that lussious meat,

The great God Pan, himselfe doth eate:

All these, and what the woods can yeeld,

The hanging mountaine or the field,

I freely offer, and ere long,

Will bring you more, more sweet and strong.

Till when humbly leaue I take,

Least the great Pan do awake:

That sleeping lies in a deepe glade,

Vnde a broad beeches shade:

100

I must goe, I must runne,

Swifter then the fiery Sunne.

Exit.

Clorin.

And all my feares goe with thee.

What greatnesse or what priuate hidden power,

Is there in me to draw submission,

105

From this rude man, and beast? sure I am mortall,

The daughter of a Shepheard, he was mortall:

And she that bore me mortall: pricke my hand

And it will bleed: a feauer shakes me,

And the selfsame winde that makes the yoūg lambs shrinke,

110

Makes me a cold, my feare saies I am mortall:

Yet I haue heard (my mother told it me)

And now I doe belieue it, if I keepe

My virgin flower vncropt, pure, chaste, & faire,

No Goblin, wood-god, Faiery, Elfe, or Fiend,

115

Satyr or other power that haunts these groaues,

Shall hurt my body, or by vaine illusion,

Draw me to wander after idle fiers.

Or voices calling me in dead of night,

To make me followe, and so tole me on,

120

Through mires and standing pooles:

Else why should this rough thing, who neuer knew

Manners, nor smooth humanitie, whose heates

Are rougher then himselfe, and more mishapen,

Thus mildely kneele to me? sure there is a power

125

In that great name of virgin; that bindes fast

All rude vnciuill bloods, all appetites

That breake their confines: then strong chastity,

Be thou my strongest guarde, for heere Il'e dwell

In opposition against Fate and Hell.

Enter an olde shepheard, with foure couple of Shepheards and Shepheardesses.

Old Shep.

130

Now we haue done this holy festiuall,

In honour of our great God, and his rights

Perform'd, prepare your selues for chast

And vncorrupted fires: that as the priest,

With powerful hand shall sprinkle on your browes

135

His pure and holy water, ye may be

From all hot flames of lust, and loose thoughts free,

Kneele shepheards kneele, heere comes the Priest of Pan.

Enter Priest.

Priest.

Shepheards thus I purge away,

Whatsoeuer this great day,

140

Or the past houres gaue not good,

To corrupt your maiden blood:

From the high rebellious heat,

Of the grapes and strength of meat.

From the wanton quicke desires,

145

They do kindle by their fires.

I do wash you with this water,

Be you pure and faire heereafter.

From your liuers and your vaines,

Thus I take away the staines.

150

All your thoughts be smooth and faire,

Be ye fresh and free as ayre.

Neuer more let lustfull heat,

Through your purged conduits beate,

Or a plighted troth be broken,

155

Or a wanton verse be spoken:

In a Shepheardesses eare,

Go your waies y'are all cleare.

They rise and sing in praise of Pan. The Song.

Sing his praises that doth keepe,

our Flockes from harme,

160

Pan the Father of our sheepe,

And arme in arme

Tread we softly in a round,

Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground,

Fills the musicke with her sound,

165

Pan, o great God, Pan to thee

Thus do we sing:

Thou that keepest vs chaste and free,

As the young spring,

Euer be thy honour spoke,

170

From that place the morne is broke,

To that place Day doth vnyoke.

Exeunt omnes but Perigot and Amoret.

Peri.

Stay gentle Amoret thou faire browd maide,

Thy Shepheard praies theee stay, that holds thee de ere.

Equall with his soules good:

Amo.

175

Speake, I giue

Thee freedome Shepheard, & thy tongue be still

The same it euer was: as free from ill

As he whose conuersation neuer knew

The court or cittie: be thou euer true.

Peri.

180

When I fall off from my affection,

Or mingle my cleane thoughts with foule desires,

First let our great God cease to keepe my flockes,

That being left alone without a guard,

The woolfe, or winters rage, sommers great heat,

185

And want of water, rots: or what to vs

Of ill is yet vnknowne, fall speedily,

And in their generall ruine let me goe.

Amo.

I pray thee gentle Shepheard wish not soe,

I do belieue thee: tis as hard for me

190

To thinke thee false, and harder then for thee

To holde me foule.

Peri.

ô you are fairer farre,

Then the chaste blushing morne, or that faire starre,

That guides the wandring seaman through the deepes

195

Straighter then the straightest pine vpon the steepe

Head of an aged mountaine, and more white,

Then the new milke we strip before day light

From the full fraighted bags of our faire flockes:

Your haire more beautious then those hanging lockes

200

Of young Apollo.

Amo.

Shepheard be not lost,

Ye are saild too farre alreadie from the coast

Of our discourse.

Peri.

Did you not tell me once

205

I should not loue alone, I should not loose

Those many passions, vowes and holy oathes,

I haue sent to heauen: did you not giue your hand,

Euen that faire hand in hostage? do not then

Giue backe againe those sweetes to other men.

210

You your selfe vowd were mine,

Amo.

Shepheard so farre as maidens modesty

May giue assurance, I am once more thine,

Once more I giue my hand, be euer free

From that great foe to faith, foule iealosie.

Peri.

215

I take it as my best good, and desire

For stronger confirmation of our loue,

To meete this happy night in that faire groue,

Where all true shepheards haue rewarded bene

For their long seruice: say sweet shall it hould?

Amo.

220

Deere friend you must not blame me if I make

A doubt of what the silent night may doe,

Coupled with this dayes heat to mooue your blood:

Maids must be fearefull, sure you haue not bene

Washd white enough, for yet I see a staine

225

Sticke in your liuer, goe and purge againe.

Peri.

O do not wrong my honest simple truth,

My selfe and my affections are as pure,

As those chaste flames that burne before the shrine,

Of the great Dian: onely my intent

230

To draw you thither, was to plight our trothes,

With interchange of mutuall chaste imbraces,

And ceremonious tying of our soules:

For to that holy wood is consecrate,

A vertuous Well, about whose flowery bancks,

235

The nimble footed Faieries daunce their rounds,

By the pale mooneshine, dipping often times

Their stolen children, so to make them free

From dying flesh, and dull mortalitie:

By this faire Fount hath many a Shepheard sworne,

240

And giuen away his freedome, many a troth

Beene plight, which neither enuy nor ould time

Could euer breake, with many a chaste kisse giuen,

In hope of comming happinesse: by this

Fresh Fountaine many a blushing maide

245

Hath crownd the head of her long loued shepheard,

With gaudy flowers, whilst he happy sung,

Laies of his loue and deare captiuitie,

There growes all hearbs fit to coole looser flames,

Our sensuall parts prouoke chiding our bloodes,

250

And quenching by their power those hidden sparks,

That else would breake out, and prouoke our sence,

To open fires, so vertuous is that place:

Then gentle Shepheardesse belieue and grant,

In troth it sits not with that face to scant.

255

Your faithfull Shepheard of those chaste desires,

He euer aimd at, and —

Amo.

Thou hast preuaild, farwell, this comming night,

Shal crowne thy chaste hopes with long wishd delight.

Peri.

Our great God Pan reward thee for that good,

260

Thou hast giuen thy poore shepheard fairest bud

Of maiden vertues: when I leaue to be

The true admirer of thy chastitie,

Let me deserue the hot polluted name,

Of a wilde woodman, or affect some dame

265

Whose often prostitution hath begot,

More foule diseases, then euer yet the hot

Sun bred through his burnings, whilst the dog

Pursues the raging Lyon, throwing fog

And deadly vapor from his angry breath.

270

Filling the lower world with plague and death.

exit Amo

Enter an other Shepheardesse that is in loue with Perigot.

Amaril.

Shepheard may I desire to be belieued,

What I shall blushing tell?

Peri.

Faire maide you may.

Amaril.

Then softly thus, I loue thee Perigot,

275

And would be gladder to be lou'd againe,

Then the colde earth is in his frozen armes

To clip the wanton spring: nay do not start,

Nor wonder that I woe thee! thou that art

The prime of our young groomes, euen the top

280

Of all our lusty Shepheards: what dull eie

That neuer was acquainted with desire,

Hath scene thee wrastle, run, or cast the stone,

With nimble strength and faire deliuery,

And hath not sparckled fire, and speedily

285

Sent secret heat to all the neighbouring vaines?

Who euer heard thee sing, that brought againe,

That freedome backe was lent vnto thy voice?

Then do not blame me (shepheard) if I be

One to be numbred in this company,

290

Since none that euer saw thee yet, were free.

Peri.

Faire Shepheardesse much pittie I can lend,

To your complaints: but sure I shal not loue:

All that is mine, my selfe and my best hopes,

Are giuen already: do not loue him then

295

That cannot loue againe: on other men

Bestowe those heates more free, that may returne

You fire for fire, and in one flame equall burne.

Amaril.

Shall I rewarded be so slenderly

For my affection, most vnkinde of men?

300

If I were old, or had agreed with Art,

To giue another nature to my cheekes,

Or were I common mistris to the loue

Of euery swaine, or could I with such ease

Call backe my loue, as many a wanton doth,

305

Thou mightst refuse me Shepheard, but to thee

I am onely fixt and set, let it not be

A sport, thou gentle Shepheard, to abuse

The loue of silly maide.

Peri.

Faire soule, ye vse

310

These words to little end: for knowe, I may

Better call backe, that time was yesterday,

Or stay the comming night, then bring my loue

Home to my selfe againe, or recreant proue.

I will no longer hold you with delaies,

315

This present night I haue appointed bene,

To meet that chaste faire (that enioyes my soule)

In yonder groue, there to make vp our loues.

Be not deceau'd no longer, choose againe,

These neighbouring plaines haue many a comely swaine,

320

Fresher and freeer farre then I ere was,

Bestowe that loue on them and let me passe,

Farwell, be happy in a better choise.

exit

Amar.

Cruell, thou hast strucke me deader with thy voice

Then if the angry heauens with their quicke flames,

325

Had shot me through: I must not leaue to loue,

I cannot, no I must enioy thee boy,

Though the great dangers twixt my hopes and that

Be infinite: there is a Shepheard dwels

Downe by the More, whose life hath euer showne

330

More sullen discontent then Saturnes browe,

When he sits frowning on the birthes of men:

One that doth weare himselfe away in lonenesse,

And neuer ioyes vnlesse it be in breaking

The holy plighted troths of mutuall soules:

335

One that lusts after euery seuerall beauty,

But neuer yet was knowne to loue or like,

Were the face fairer or more full of truth,

Then Phoebe in her fulnesse, or the youth

Of smooth Lyeus, whose nye starued flockes

340

Are alwaies scabby, and infect all sheepe

They feede withall, whose lambes are euer last,

And dye before their weaning, and whose dog,

Lookes like his Maister, leane, and full of scurffe,

Not caring for the pipe or whistle: this man may

345

(If he be wel wrought) do a deede of wonder,

Forcing me passage to my long desires:

And heere he comes, as fitly to my purpose

As my quicke thoughts could wish for.

Enter Sullen.

Sul.

Fresh beautie, let me not be thought vnciuill,

350

Thus to be partner of your lonenesse: t'was

My loue (that euer working passion) drew

Me to this place to seeke some remedie

For my sicke soule: be not vnkinde and faire,

For such, the mightie Cupid in his dombe

355

Hath sworne to be aueng'd on, then giue roome

To my consuming fires, that so I may

Inioy my long desires, and so allay

Those flames, that else would burne my life away.

Amar.

Shepheard, were I but sure thy heart were sound

360

As thy words seeme to be, meanes might be found

To cure thee of thy long paines: for to me

That heauy youth consuming miserie,

The loue sicke soule endures, neuer was pleasing,

I could be well content with the quicke easing

365

Of thee & thy hot fires, might it procure

Thy faith, and farther seruice to be sure.

Name but that great worke, danger, or what can

Be compast by the wit or art of man,

And if I faile in my performance, may

370

I neuer more kneele to the rysing day,

Amar.

Then thus I try thee shepheard, this same night,

That now comes stealing on, a gentle paire

Haue promis'd equall loue, and do appoint

To make yon wood the place, where hands and hearts

375

Are to be tied for euer: breake their meeting

And their strong faith, and I am euer thine.

Sul.

Tell me their names, and if I doe not moue

(by my great power) the center of their loue

From his sixt being, let me neuer more,

380

Warme me, by those faire eies I thus adore.

Amar.

Come, as we goe Ile tell thee what they are,

And giue thee fit directions for thy worke.

exeunt.

Enter Cloe.

How haue I wrongd the times, or men, that thus,

After this holy feast I passe vnknowne,

385

And vnsaluted? t'was not wont to be

Thus frozen with the younger company

Of iolly shepheards: t'was not then held good,

For lusty groomes to mixe their quicker blood

With that dull humor: most vnfit to be

390

The friend of man, cold and dull chastitie:

Sure I am held not faire, or am too ould,

Or else not free enough, or from my fould

Driue not a flocke sufficient great, to gaine

The greedy eies of wealth alluring swaine.

395

Yet if I may belieue what others say,

My face has foile enough, nor can they lay

Iustly too strict a coynesse to my charge.

My flockes are many, and the downes as large

They feed vppon: then let it euer be

400

Their coldnesse, not my virgin modesty

Makes me complaine.

Enter Thenot.

The.

Was euer man but I,

Thus truely taken with vncertaintie?

Where shall that man be found that loues a minde

405

Made vp in constancy, and dares not finde

his loue rewarded? heere, let all men knowe,

A wretch that liues to loue his mistres so.

Cloe,

Shepheard I pray thee stay, where haste thou bene,

Or whether goest thou? heere be woods as greene

410

As any, ayre as fresh and sweet,

As where smooth Zephirus plaies on the fleet

Face of the curled streames: with flowers as many

As the young spring giues, and as choise as any:

Heere be all new delights, coole streames and wels,

415

Arbors are growne with wood bines, Caues, and dels,

Chuse 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 loue,

How the pale Phoebe hunting in a groue,

420

First saw the boy Endimion, from whose eyes,

She tooke eternall fire, that neuer dies,

How she conuaid him softly in a sleepe,

His temples bound with poppy to the steep

Head of old Latmus, where she stoopes each night,

425

Gilding the mountaine with her brothers light

To kisse her sweetest.

Thenot.

Farre from me are these

Hot flashes bred from wanton heat and ease,

I haue forgot what loue and louing meant,

430

Rimes, Songs, and merry rounds, that oft are sent

To the soft eare of Maid, are strange to me:

Onely I liue t'admire a chastity,

That neither pleasing age, smooth tongue, or gold,

Could euer breake vpon, so sure the molde

435

Is, that her minde was cast in: tis to her

I onely am reserued, she is my forme, I stirre

By, breath, and mooue: tis she and only she

Can make me happy or giue misery.

Cloe.

Good Shepheard, may a stranger craue to know,

440

To whome this deare obseruance you do owe?

Thenot

Ye may, and by her vertue learne to square

And leuell out your life: for to be faire

And nothing vertuous, onely fits the eye

Of gaudy youth, and swelling vanitie.

445

Then knowe, shee's cald the virgin of the groue,

She that hath long since buried her chaste loue,

And now liues by his graue, for whose deare soule

She hath vowd her selfe into the holy role

Of strickt virginitie, tis her I so admire,

450

Not any looser blood or new desire.

Cloe.

Farewell poore swaine, thou art not for my bend,

I must haue quicker soules, whose words may tend,

To some free action: giue me him dare loue

At first encounter, and as soone dare prooue. The Song.

455

Come Shepheards come,

Come away without delay,

Whilste the gentle time doth stay,

Greene woods are dumme,

And will neuer tell to any,

460

Those deere kisses, and those many

Sweete imbraces that are giuen,

Dainty pleasures that would euen

Raise in coldest age a fire,

And giue virgin blood desire.

465

Then if euer,

Now or neuer,

Come and haue it,

Thinke not I,

Dare deny,

470

If you craue it.

Enter Daphnis.

Heere comes another: better be my speede,

Thou God of blood, but certaine if I reade

Not false, this is that modest shepheard, he

That onely dare salute, but nere could be

475

Brought to kisse any, holde discourse, or sing,

Whisper, or boldly aske that wished thing

We all are borne for: one that makes louing faces,

And could be well content to couet graces,

Were they not got by boldnesse: in this thing

480

My hopes are frozen, and but fate doth bring

Him heather, I would sooner choose

A man made out of snowe, and freeer vse

An Euuenke to my endes: but since hee is heere,

Thus I attempt him: Thou of men most deare,

485

Welcome to her, that onely for thy sake,

Hath bene content to liue: here boldly take

My hand in pledge, this hand, that neuer yet

Was giuen away to any: and but sit

Downe on this rushy bancke, whilst I go pull

490

Fresh blossomes from the bowes, or quickly cull

The choisest delicates from yonder meade,

To make thee chaines or chaplets, or to spreade

Vnder our fainting bodies, when delight

Shall locke vp all our sences how the sight

495

Of those smooth rising cheekes renue the story

Of young Adonis, when in pride and glory

He lay infolded twixt the beating armes

Of willing Venus: me thinkes stronger charmes,

Dwell in those speaking eyes: and on that brow

500

More sweetnesse then the painters can allow,

To their best peeces: not Narcissus he:

That wept himselfe away in memorie

Of his owne beautie, nor Siluanus boy,

Nor the twice rauisht maide, for whome old Troy,

505

Fell by the hand of Pirrhus, may to thee,

Be otherwise compared then some dead tree

To a young fruitfull Oliue:

Daph.

I can loue, but I am loth to say so, least I proue

Too soone vnhappy.

Cloe.

510

Happy thou wouldst say,

My dearest Daphnis, blush not if the day

To thee and thy soft heates be enemie,

Then take the comming night, faire youth tis free

To all the world, shepheard Ile meet thee then

515

When darkenes hath shut vp the eies of men,

In yonder groue: speake shall our meeting hold?

Indeed ye are too bashful, be more bold,

And tell me I.

Daph.

I am content to say so,

520

And would be glad to meet, might I but pray so

Much from your fairenes, that you would be true.

Cloe

Shepheard thou hast thy wishe,

Daph

Fresh maide adieu,

Yet one word more, since you haue drawne me on

525

To come this night, feare not to meete alone,

That man that will not offer to be ill,

Though your bright selfe would aske it for his fill

Of this worlds goodnesse: do not feare him then,

But keepe your pointed time, let other men

530

Set vp their bloods to saile, mine shall be euer,

Faire as the soule it carries, and vnchast neuer.

exit.

Cloe.

Yet am I poorer then I was before.

Is it not strange, among so many a score

Of lusty bloods, I should picke out these thinges

535

whose vaines like a dull riuer farre from springs,

Is still the same, slowe, heauy, and vnfit

For streame or motion, though the strong windes hit

With their continuall power vpon his sides?

O happy be your names that haue bene brides:

540

And tasted those rare sweetes, for which I pine,

And farre more heauy be thy griefe and tine.

Thou lazy swaine that maist relieue my needes,

Then his vppon whose liuer alwaies feedes

A hungry vulture.

Enter Alexis.

Alex.

545

Can such beautie be

Safe in his owne guard, and not draw the eye

Of him that passeth on to greedy gaze,

Or couetous desire, whilst in a maze

The better part contemplates, giuing raine

550

And wished freedome to the labouring vaine?

Fairest and whitest, may I craue to knowe,

The cause of your retirement, why ye goe

Thus all alone? me thinkes the downes are sweeter

And the young company of swaines more meeter,

555

Then these forsaken and vntroden places.

Giue not your selfe to lonenesse, and those graces

Hide from the eies of men, that were intended

To liue amongst vs swaines.

Cloe.

Thou art befriended,

560

Shepheard in all my life, I haue not seene,

A man in whome greater contents hath beene,

Then thou thy selfe art: I could tell thee more,

Were there but any hope left to restore

My freedome lost: ô lend me all thy red,

565

Thou shamefast morning, when from Tithons bed

Thou risest euer maiden.

Alex.

If for me,

Thou sweetest of all sweets, these flashes be,

Speake and be satisfied, ô guide her tongue,

570

My better angell, force my name among

Hir modest thoughts, that the first word may be,

Cloe.

Alexis when the sunne shall kisse the sea,

Taking his rest by the white Thetis side,

Meet in the holy wood, where Ile abide

575

Thy comming Shepheard.

Alex.

If I stay behinde,

An euerlasting dulnesse and the winde,

That as he passeth by shuts vp the streame,

Of Reine or volga whilst the sunnes hot beame,

580

Beats backe againe, ceaze me, and let me turne

To coldenesse more then yce: oh how I burne

And rise in youth and fier! I dare not stay.

exit.

Cloe.

My name shall be your word.

Alex.

Fly fly thou day,

Cloe.

585

My griefe is great if both these boyes should faile,

He that will vse all windes must shift his saile.

Exit.

Actus secundus Scena prima.

Enter an olde shepheard with a bell ringing, and the Priest of Pan following.

Priest.

Shepheards all, and maidens faire,

Fold your flockes vp, for the Aire

Ginns to thicken, and the Sunne

590

Already his great course hath runne,

See the dew drops how they kisse

Euery little flower that is:

Hanging on their veluet heads,

Like a rope of christal beades.

595

See the heauy cloudes lowde falling

And bright Hesperus downe calling,

The dead night from vnder ground,

At whose rysing mistes vnsound,

damps, and vapours fly apace,

600

Houering ore the wanton face,

Of these pastures, where they come,

Striking dead both budd and bloome,

Therefore from such danger locke

Euery one his loued flocke,

605

And let your dogs lye loose without,

Least the Woolfe come as a scout

From the mountaine, and ere day

Beare a Lambe or Kid away:

Or the crafty theeuish Foxe,

610

Breake vpon your simple flockes,

To secure your selues from these,

Be not too secure in ease,

Let one eie his watches keepe,

Whilst the tother eie doth sleepe.

615

So you shall good Shepheards proue,

And for euer hold the loue

Of our great God: sweetest slumbers

And soft silence fall in numbers

On your eye-lids: so farewell,

620

Thus I end my euenings knell.

exeunt.

Enter Clorin the Shepheardesse sorting of hearbs, and telling the natures of them.

Now let me know what my best Art hath done,

Helpt by the great power of the vertuous moone,

In her full light, ô you sonnes of earth,

You onely brood, vnto whose happy birth

625

Virtue was giuen, holding more of nature

Then man her first borne & most perfect creature.

Let me adore you, you that onely can,

Helpe or kill nature, drawing out that span

Of life and breath, euen to the end of time,

630

You that these hands did crop, long before prime

Of day, giue me your names, and next your hidden power.

This is the Clote bearing a yellowe flowre:

And this blacke Horehound, both are very good,

For sheepe or shepheard, bitten by a wood

635

Dogs venomd tooth, these Ramuns branches are,

Which stucke in entries, or about the barre

That holds the dore fast, kill all the inchantments, charmes,

Were they Medeas verses that do harmes

To men or cattel: these for frenzy be

640

A speedy and a soueraigne remedie.

The bitter Wormewood, Sage, and Marigold,

Such simpathy with mans good they do hold:

This Tormentil whose vertue is to part

All deadly killing poison from the heart,

645

And heere Narcissus roote, for swellings best:

Yellow Lecimacus, to giue sweete rest

To the faint Shepheard, killing where it comes,

All busie gnats, and euery fly that hummes,

For leprosie, Darnell, and Sellondine,

650

With Calamint, whose vertue do refine

The blood of Man, making it free and faire,

As the first houre it breath'd, or the best aire.

Heere other to, but your rebellious vse,

Is not forme, whose goodnes is abuse,

655

Therefore foule standergrasse, from me and mine

I banish thee, with lustfull Turpentine,

You that intice the vaines, and stirre the heat

To ciuill muteny, scaling the seate

Our reason moues in, and deluding it

660

With dreames and wanton fancies, till the fit

Of burning lust be quencht by appetite,

Robbing the soule of blessednes and light:

And thou light Varmin to, thou must goe after

Prouoking easie soules to mirth and laughter,

665

No more shall I dip thee in water now,

And sprinckle euery post, and euery bow

With thy well pleasing iuice, to make the gromes,

Swell with high mirth as with ioy all the romes.

Enter Thenot.

The.

This is the Cabin where the best of all

670

Her sex, that euer breathd, or euer shall

Giue heat or happinesse to the Shepheards side,

Doth onely to her worthy selfe abide.

Thou blessed starre, I thank thee for thy light,

Thou by whose power the darkenesse of sad night

675

Is banisht from the earth, in whose dull place

Thy chaster beames play on the heauy face

Of all the world: making the blew sea smile,

To see how cunningly thou dost beguile

Thy brother of his brightnesse, giuing day

680

Againe from Chaos whiter then that way

That leades to Ioues hye Court, and chaster farre

Then chastity it selfe: yon blessed starre

That nightly shines, thou all the constancy

That in all women was, or ere shalbe:

685

From whose faire eye-balles flies that holy fire,

That ports stile the mother of desire,

Infusing into euery gentle breast,

A soule of greater price, and farre more blest

Then that quicke power which giues a difference

690

Twixt man and creatures of a lower sence.

Clor.

Shepheard how camst thou hether to this place?

No way is troden, all the verdent grasse

The spring shot vp stands yet vnbrused heere

Of any foote, onely the dappld deere:

695

Farre from the feared sound of crooked horne

Dwels in this fastnesse.

Then.

Chaster then the morne,

I haue not wandred, or by strong illusion

Into this vertuous place haue made intrusion,

700

But hether am I come (belieue me faire)

To seeke you out, of whose great good the Aire

Is full, and strongly labors, whilst the sound,

Breakes against heauen, and driues into a stround

The amazed Shepheard, that such vertue can

705

Be resident in lesser then a man.

Clor.

If any art I haue, or hidden skill,

May cure thee of disease or festred ill,

Whose griefe or greenenesse to anothers eie,

May seeme vnpossible of remedie,

710

I dare yet vndertake it.

Shep.

Tis no paine

I suffer through disease, no beating vaine

Conuaies infection dangerous to the heart,

No part impostumde to be curde by Art:

715

This bodie holdes, and yet a feller griefe

Then euer skilfull hand did giue reliefe

Dwels on my soule, and may be heald by you,

Faire beauteous virgin:

Clor.

Then shepheard let me sue

720

To knowe thy griefe that man yet neuer knew

The way to health, that durst not shew his sore.

Shep.

Then fairest know I loue you,

Clor.

Swaine no more.

Thou hast abus'd the strictnes of this place,

725

And offred Sacriligeous foule disgrace

To the sweet rest of these interred bones,

For feare of whose ascending fly at once,

Thou and thy idle passions, that the sight

Of death and speedy vengeance may not fright.

730

Thy very soule with horror.

Shep.

Let me not

Thou all perfection merrit such a blot,

For my true zealous faith.

Clor.

Darest thou abide

735

To see this holy earth at once deuide

And giue her bodie vp, for sure it will,

If thou pursuest with wanton flames to fill

This hallowed place: therefore repent and goe,

Whilst I with praies appease his Ghost belowe,

740

That else would tell thee what it were to be,

A riuall in that vertuous loue, that he

Imbraces yet.

Shep.

Tis not the white or red

Inhabits in your cheeke, that thus can wed

745

My minde to adoration: nor your eye,

Though it be full and faire, your forehead hye,

And smooth as Pelops shoulder: not the smile

Lies watching in those dimples, to beguile

The easie soule, your hands and fingers long,

750

With vaines inameld richly, nor your tongue,

Though it spoke sweeter then Arions Harpe,

Your haire wouen into many a curious warpe,

Able in endles errour to vnfould

The wandring soule, not the true perfect mould,

755

Of all your bodie, which as pure doth showe,

In Maiden whitenes as the Alpsien snowe,

All these, were but your constancy away,

Would please me lesse then a blacke stormy day

The wretched Seaman toyling through the deep.

760

But whilst this honourd strictnes you dare keepe,

Though all the plagues that ere begotten were,

In the great wombe of aire were setled here

In opposition, I would like the tree,

Shake off those drops of weakenes, and be free

765

Euen in the arme of danger.

Clor.

Wouldst thou haue

Me raise againe fond man, from silent graue,

Those sparckes that long agoe were buried here,

With my dead friends cold ashes?

Shep.

770

Deerest deare,

I dare not aske it, nor you must not graunt,

Stand strongly to your vow, and do not faint:

Remember how he lou'd ye, and be still,

The same opinion speakes ye, let not will,

775

And that great god of wowen Appetite,

Set vp your blood againe, do not inuite

Desire, and fancy for their long exile,

To seat them once more in a pleasing smile:

Be like a Rocke made firmely vp gainst all

780

The power of angry heauen, or the strong fall

Of Neptunes battery, if ye yeild I die

To all affection: tis that loialtie

Ye tie vnto this graue I so admire,

And yet theres something else I would desire,

785

If you would heare me, but withall deny,

O Pan, what an vncertaine desteny

Hanges ouer all my hopes! I will retire,

For if I longer stay, this double fier,

Will licke my life vp.

Clor.

790

Do, and let time weare out,

What Art and Nature cannot bring about.

Shep.

Farewell thou soule of virtue, and be blest

For euer, whilst I wretched rest

Thus to my selfe, yet graunt me leaue to dwell

795

In kenning of this Arbor, yon same dell

Ore topt with mourning Cipresse and sad Ewe,

Shall be my Cabin, where I'le earely rew,

Before the Sunne hath kist this dewe away,

The hard vncertaine chance which Fate doth lay

800

Vpon this head.

Clor.

The Gods giue quicke release

And happy cure vnto thy hard disease.

Exeunt.

Enter Sullen Shepheard.

Sullen.

I do not loue this wench that I should meet,

For neuer did my vnconstant eie yet greet

805

That beautie, were it sweeter or more faire,

Then the new blossomes, when the morning aire

Blowes gently on them, or the breaking light,

When many maiden blushes to our sight

Shootes from his early face: were all these set

810

In some neat forme before me, twould not get

The least loue from me: some desire it might,

Or present burning: all to me in sight

Are equall, be they faire, or blacke, or browne,

Virgin, or carelesse wanton, I can crowne

815

My appetite with any: sweate as oft,

And weepe as any, melt my words as soft

Into a maidens eares, and tell how long

My heart has bene her seruant, and how strong

My passions are: call her vnkinde and cruell,

820

Offer her all I haue to gaine the iewell

Maidens so highly praise: then loath and fly,

This do I hold a blessed desteny.

Enter Amarillis.

Amar.

Haile Shepheard Pan blesse both thy flocke & thee,

For being mindefull of thy word to me.

Sul.

825

VVelcome faire Shepheardesse, thy louing swaine

Giues thee the selfe same wishes backe againe:

Who till this present houre nere knew that eie,

Could make me crosse mine armes or daily dye

With fresh consumings: boldly tel me then,

830

How shall we part their faithfull loues, and when?

Shall I bely him to her, shall I sweare

His faith is false, and he loues euery where?

Ile say he mockt her the other day to you,

Which will by your confirming shew as true,

835

For he is of so pure an honesty,

To thinke (because he will not none will lye.

Or else to him Ile slaunder Amoret,

And say, she but seemes chaste, Ile sweare she met

Me mongst the shadie sycamoures last night,

840

And loosely offerd vp her flame and spright,

Into my bosome: made a wanton bed

Of leaues and many flowers, where she spred

Her willing bodie to be prest by me,

There haue I caru'd her name on many a tree,

845

Together with mine owne, to make this show

Morefull of seeming: Hobinal you know,

Sonne to the aged Shepheard of the Glen

Him I haue sorted out of many men,

To say he found vs at our priuate sport,

850

And rouz'd vs fore our time by his resorts

This to confirme, I haue promis'd to the boy

Many a pretty knack, and many a toy,

As grinnes to catch him birds with bowe, and bolt,

To shoote at nimble squirrels in the holts:

855

A paire of painted buskins and a lambe,

Soft as his owne lockes, or the downe of Swan,

This I haue done to winne ye, which doth giue

Me double pleasure, discord makes me liue.

Amar.

Loued swaine I thanke ye, these trickes might preuaile

860

With other rusticke shepheards, but will faile

Euen once to stirre, much more to ouerthrow,

His fixed loue from iudgement, who doth know,

Your nature, my end, and his chosens merrit,

Therefore some stronger way must force his spirit

865

Which I haue found: giue second, and my loue

Is euerlasting thine.

Sul.

Try me and proue.

Amar.

These happy paire of louers meet straight way,

Soone as they fould their flockes vp with the day

870

In the thicke groue bordering vpon yon hill,

In whose hard side Nature hath caru'd a well:

And but that matchlesse spring which Poets know,

Was nere the like to this: by it doth growe

About the sides, all hearbs which witches vse,

875

All simples good for medicine or abuse,

All sweetes that crowne the happy nuptiall day.

With all their colours, there the month of May

Is euer dwelling, all is young and greene,

There's not a grasse on which was euer seene,

880

The falling Autume or cold winters hand

So full of heate and virtue is the land:

About this fountaine: which doth slowly breake

Below yon Mountaines foote, into a creeke

That waters all the valley, giuing fish

885

Of many sorts, to fill the shepheards dish.

This holy well, my Grandame that is dead,

Right wise in charmes, hath often to me sed,

Hath power to change the forme of any creature,

Being thrice dipt ouer the head, into what feature,

890

Or shape t'would please the letter downe to craue,

Who must pronounce this charme to, which she gaue

Me on her death bed, told me what and how

I should apply vnto the patients brow,

That would be chang'd, casting them thrice a sleepe

895

Before I trusted them into this deepe.

All this she shew'd me, and did charge me proue,

This secret of her Art, if crost in loue,

I'le this attempt, now Shepheard I haue here

All her prescriptions and I will not feare

900

To be my selfe dipt: come, my temples binde

With these sad hearbs, and when I sleepe you finde

As you do speake your charme, thrice downe me let,

And bid the water raise me Amoret,

Which being done, leaue me to my affaire,

905

And ere the day shall quite it selfe out weare,

I will returne vnto my Shepheards arme,

Dip me againe, and then repeat this charme,

And plucke me vp my selfe, whome freely take,

And the hotst fire of thine affection slake.

Sul.

910

And if I fit thee not, then fit not me,

I long the truth of this wels power to see.

Exeunt,

Actus secundus Scena quarta.

Enter Daphnis

Heere will I stay, for this the couert is

Where I appointed Cloe, do not misse:

Thou bright ey'd virgin, come, ô come my faire,

915

Be not abus'd with feare, nor let cold care

Of honor slay thee from thy Shepheards arme,

Who would as hard be wonne to offer harme

To thy chaste thoughts, as whitenesse from the day,

Or yon great round to moue another way.

920

My language shall be honest, full of truth,

My flame as smooth and spotlesse as my youth:

I will not entertaine that wandring thought,

Whose easie currant may at length be brought

To a loose vastenes.

925

Alexis within.

Cloe!

Daph.

Tis her voice

And I must answere, Cloe! ô the choise

Of deare imbraces, chaste and holy straines

Our hands shall giue! I charge you all my vaines

930

Through which the blood and spirit take their way,

Looke vp your disobedient heats, and stay

Those mutinous desires, that else would growe

To strong rebellion: do not wilder showe

Then blushing modestie may entertaine.

935

Alexis within.

Cloe!

Daph.

There sounds that blessed name againe,

And I will meete it: let me not mistake,

Enter Alexis.

This is some Shepheard, sure I am awake,

What may this riddle meane? I will retire,

940

To giue my selfe more knowledge

Alex.

Oh my fier,

How thou consum'st me? Cloe answere me,

Alexis, strong Alexis, high, and free,

Cals vpon Cloe: see mine armes are full

945

Of intertainement, 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 delaies,

I must not leaue vnsought those many waies

950

That lead into this center, till I finde

Quench for my burning lust, I come vnkinde.

Exit Alexis.

Daph.

Can my imagination worke me so much ill,

That I may credit this for truth, and still

Belieue mine eies, or shall I firmely hold her

955

Her yet vntainted, and these sights but bold

Illusion? sure such fancies oft haue bene

Sent to abuse true loue, and yet are seene,

Daring to blinde the vertuous though with error,

But be they farre from me with their fond terror:

960

I am resolud my Cloe yet is true.

Cloe within.

Cloe harke Cloe sure this voice is new,

Whose shrilnes like the sounding of a bell,

Tels me it is a woman: Cloe, tell

Thy blessed name againe

965

Cloe within.

Heere.

Oh what a greefe is this to be so neere

And not incounter?

Enter Cloe.

Shepheard we are met,

Draw close into the couert, least the wet

970

which falles like lazy mistes vppon the ground,

Soake through yous startvps.

Daph.

Fairest, are you found

How haue we wandred that the better part

Of this good night is perisht? oh my heart!

975

How haue I longd to meet ye? how to kisse

Those lilly hands? how to receiue the blisse

That charming tongue giues to the happy eare

Of him that drinkes your language? but I feare

I am too much vnmannerd, farre to rude,

980

And almost growne lasciuous to intrude

These hot behauiours, where regard of fame,

Honor, and modesty, a vertuous name,

And such discourse, as one faire sister may

Without offence vnto the brother say,

985

Should rather haue bene tenderd, but belieue

Heere dwels a better temper, do not grieue,

Then euer kindest that my first salute,

Seasons so much of fancy, I am mute

Henceforth to all discourses, but shall be

990

Suting to your sweet thoughts and modestie:

Indeede I will not aske a kisse of you,

No not to wring your fingers, nor to sue

To those blest paire of fixed starres for smiles,

All a young louers cunning, all his wiles:

995

And pretty wanton dyings shall to me

Be strangers, onely to your Chastity

I am deuoted euer.

Cloe,

Honest swaine,

First let me thanke you, then returne againe

1000

As much of my loue: no thou art too cold

Vnhappy boy, not temperd to my mold,

Thy blood fals heauy downeward, tis not feare

To offend in boldnesse wins, they neuer weare

deserued fauours that deny to take

1005

When they are offred freely: do I wake

To see a man of his youth, yeares and feature,

And such a one as we call goodly creature,

Thus backeward? what a world of precious Art,

Were meerely lost, to make him do his part?

1010

But I will shake him off, that dares not hold,

Let men that hope to be beloud be bold,

Daphnis I do desire since we are met

So happily, our liues and fortunes set,

Vppon one stake to giue assurance now,

1015

By interchange of hands and holy vow,

Neuer to breake againe: walke you that way,

Whilst I in zealous meditation stray

A little this way when wee both haue ended

These rights and dueties by the woods befriended,

1020

And secresie of night, retire and finde

An aged oake whose hollownes may binde

Vs both within his bodie, thither goe:

It stands within yon bottome

Daph.

Be it so

Exit Daphnis.

Cloe.

1025

And I will meete there neuer more with thee,

Thou idle shamefastnesse,

Alexis within,

Cloe!

Cloe

Tis hee.

That dare I hope be bolder.

Alex.

1030

Cloe.

now

Great Pan for Sirinx sake bid speed our plow.

Exit Cloe.

Actus tertius Scena prima.

Enter the Sullen Shepheard with Amarillis in a sleepe

Sull.

From thy forehead thus I take

These hearbs, and charge thee not awake,

1035

Till in yonder holy well,

Thrice with powerfull magicke spell,

Fild with many a balefull word,

Thou hast bene dipt, thus with my cord

Of blasted hempe, by moone-light twinde,

1040

I do thy sleepy body binde,

I turne thy head into the East,

And thy feete into the West,

Thy left arme to the South put forth,

And thy right vnto the North:

1045

I take thy body from the ground,

In this deepe and deadly sound:

And into this holy spring,

I let thee slide downe by my string:

Take this maide thou holy pit

1050

To thy bottom, neerer yet,

In thy water pure and sweete,

By thy leaue I dip her feete:

Thus I let her lower yet,

That her anckles may be wet:

1055

Yet downe lower, let her knee

In thy waters washed bee,

There stop: Fly away Euery thing that loues the day,

Truth that hath but one face,

Thus I charme thee from this place.

1060

Snakes that cast your coates for new,

Camelions, that alter hue,

Hares that yearely sexes change,

Proteus altring oft and strange,

Haecatae with shapes three,

1065

Let this maiden changed be,

With this holy water wet, To the shape of Amoret:

Cinthia worke thou with my charme,

Thus I draw thee free from harme,

Vp out of this blessed lake,

1070

Rise both like her and awake.

She awaketh

Amo.

Speake shepheard, am I Amoret to sight?

Or hast thou mist in any magicke right?

For want of which any defect in me,

May make our practises discouered be?

Sull.

1075

By yonder moone, but that I heere do stand,

Whose breath hath thus reformd thee, and whose hand,

Let thee downe dry, and pluckt thee vp thus wet,

I should my selfe take thee for Amoret,

Thou art in clothes, in feature, voice and hew

1080

So like, that sence can not distinguish you.

Amore.

Then this deceit which cannot crossed be,

At once shall loose her him, and gaine thee me.

Hether she needes must come, by promise made,

And sure his nature neuer was so bad,

1085

To bid a virgin meete him in the wood,

When night and feare are vp, but vnderstood,

T'was his part to come first: being come, Ile say

My constant loue made me come first and stay,

Then will I leade him further to the groue,

1090

But stay you here, and if his owne true loue

shall seeke him heere, set her in some wrong path,

Which say her louer lately troden hath:

Ile not be farre from hence, if neede there bee

Heere is another charme, whose power will free

1095

The dazeled sence read by the moone beames cleare,

And in my one true shape make me appeare.

Enter Perigot

Sul.

Stand close, heere's Perigot, whose constant heart,

Longs to behold her, in whose shape thou art.

Peri.

This is the place (faire Amoret) the houre

1100

Is yet scarce come, heere euery siluane power

Delights to be, about yon sacred well,

Which they haue blest with many a powerfull spell,

For neuer trauailer in dead of night,

Nor straied beasts haue falne in, but when fight,

1105

Hath faild them, then their right way they haue found,

By helpe of them, so holy is the ground,

But I will farther seeke, least Amoret

Should be first come and so stray long vnmet.

My Amoret, Amoret!

Exit.

Amaril.

1110

Perigot!

Per

My loue!

Amarill.

I come my loue.

exit.

Sul.

Now she hath got

Her owne desires, and I shall gainer be

1115

Of my long lookt for hopes aswel as she;

How bright the moone shines heere, as if she stroue

To show her glory in this little groue

Enter Amoret.

To some new loued Shepheard: yonder is

Another Amoret: where differs this

1120

From that, but that she Perigot hath met,

I should haue tane this for the counterfeit:

Hearbs, woods, and springs, the power that in you lies,

If mortall men could know your properties.

Amo.

Me thinkes it is not night, I haue no feare,

1125

Walking this wood of Lyon, or of Beare,

Whose names at other times, haue made me quake,

When any shepheardesse in her tale spake,

Of some of them, that vnderneath a wood

Haue torne true louers that together stood.

1130

Me thinkes there are no goblins, and mens talke,

That in these woods the nimble Faieries walke,

Are fables, such a strong hart I haue got,

Because I come to meete with Perigot,

My Perigot, whose that my Perigot?

Sul.

1135

Faire Maid.

Amo.

Ay me thou art not Perigot.

Sul.

But I can tell ye newes of Perigot,

An houre together vnder yonder tree,

He sat with wreathed armes and cald on thee,

1140

And said, why Amoret staiest thou so long:

Then starting vp downe yonder path he flung,

Least thou hadst mist thy way: were it day light

He could not yet haue borne him out of sight.

Amo.

Thankes gentle Shepheard and beshrew my stay,

1145

That made me fearefull I had lost my way:

As fast as my weake legs, (that cannot be

Weary with seeking him) will carry me,

Ile followe, and for this thy care of me,

Pray Pan thy loue may euer follow thee.

Exit.

Sul.

1150

How bright she was? how louely did she show?

Was it not pittie to deceiue her so?

She pluckt her garments vp and tript away,

And with a virgin innocence did pray

For me, that periurd her: whilst she was heere,

1155

Me thought the beames of light that did appeare,

Were shot from her: me thought the moone gaue none,

But what it had from her: she was alone

With me, if then her presence did so moue,

Why did not I assay to win her loue?

1160

She would not sure haue yeilded vnto me,

Woemen loue onely oportunitie

And not the man, or if she had denied

Alone, I might haue forcd her to haue tried

Who had bene stronger: ô vaine foole, to let

1165

Such blest occasion passe, Ile follow yet,

My blood is vp, I cannot now forbeare.

Enter Alexis and Cloe.

I come sweete Amoret, soft who is heere?

A paire of louers, he shall yeild her me,

Now lust is vp, alike all women be.

Alex.

1170

Where shall we rest, but for the loue of me,

Cloe I know ere this would weary be.

Cloe.

Alexis let vs rest heere, if the place

Be priuate, and out of the common trace

Of euery shepheard: for I vnderstood,

1175

This night a number are about the wood,

Then let vs choose some place where out of sight,

We freely may inioy our stolne delight,

Alex.

Then boldly heere, where we shall nere be found,

No shepheards way lies heere, tis hallowed ground,

1180

No maide seekes heere her straied Cow, or Sheepe,

Faieries and Fawnes, and Satires do it keepe,

Then carelessely rest heere, and clip and kisse,

And let no feare make vs our pleasures misse.

Cloe.

Then lye by me, the sooner we begin,

1185

The longer ere day descry our sin.

Sul.

Forbeare to touch my loue, or by yon flame

The greatest power that Shepheards dare to name,

Heere where thou first vnder this holy tree,

Her to dishoner thou shalt buried be.

Alex

1190

If Pan himselfe should come out of the lawnes,

With al his troopes of Satyres and of Faunes,

And bid me leaue I sweare by her two eies,

A greater oath then thine, I would not rise.

Sul.

Then from the cold earth neuer thou shalt moue,

1195

But loose at one stroke both thy life and loue.

Cloe.

Hold gentle Shepheard.

Sul.

Fairest Shepheardesse,

Come you with me, I do not loue ye lesse

Then that fond man that would haue kept you there

1200

From me of more desert.

Alex.

O yet forbeare

To take her from me, giue me leaue to die

By her.

The Satyre enters, he runs one way and she another.

Saty.

Now whilst theme one doth rule the sky,

1205

And the starres, whose feeble light

Giue a pale shadow to the night,

Are vp, great Pan commaunded me

To walke this groue about, whilst he

In a corner of the wood,

1210

Where neuer mortall foote hath stood,

Keepes dancing, musicke and a feast,

To intertaine a louely guest:

Where he giues her many a rose

Sweeter then the breath that blowes

1215

The leaues: grapes, beries of the best,

I neuer saw so great a feast.

But to my charge: heere must I stay,

To see what mortalls loose their way,

And by a false fire seeming bright,

1220

Traine them in and leaue them right:

Then must I watch if any be

Forcing of a chastity,

If I finde it, then in haste,

Giue my wreathed horne a blast,

1225

And the faieries all will run,

Wildely dauncing by the moone,

And will pinch him to the bone,

Till his lustfull thoughts be gone.

Alex.

O death!

Sat.

1230

Backe againe about this ground

Sure I heare a mortall sound,

I binde thee by this powerfull spell,

By the waters of this well:

By the glimmering moone beames bright,

1235

Speake againe thou mortall wight.

Alex.

Sat.

Speake againe thou mortall wight,

Heere the foolish mortall lies,

Sleeping on the ground, arise,

1240

The poore wight is almost dead,

On the Ground his woundes haue bled,

And his Clothes fould with his bloud,

To my Goddesse in the wood,

Will I lead him, whose hands pure,

1245

Will helpe this mortall wight to cure,

Enter Cloe againe.

Cloe.

Since I beheld, you shaggy Man, my brest,

Doth pant, each bush me thinks should hide a Beast,

Yet my desire, keepes still aboue my feare,

I would faine meete some Sheapheard knew I where,

1250

For from one cause of feare, I am most free,

It is Impossible to Rauish mee,

I am soe willing, here vpon this ground,

I left my loue all Bloody with his wound,

Yet till that fearefull shape made me be gone,

1255

Though he were hurt, I furnisht was of one,

But now both lost Alexis speake or moue,

If thou hast any life thou art yet my loue,

Hee's dead, or else is with his little might,

Crept from the Bancke for feare of that ill spright,

1260

Then where art thou that struck'st my loue o stray,

Bring mee thy selfe in Change, and then Ile say,

Thou hast some Iustice, I will make thee trim,

With Flowers, and Garlands, that were ment for him,

Ile Clip thee round, with both mine armes as fast,

1265

As I did meane, he should haue bin imbraced.

But thou art fled what hope is left for mee?

Ile run to Daphnis in the hollow tree.

Who I did meane to mocke, though hope be small,

To make him bolde, rather then none at all,

1270

Ile try him, his heart, and my behauiour to

Perhapes may teach him, what he ought to doe.

Exit,

Enter the sullen Sheappeard.

This was the place, twas but my feeble sight,

Mixt with the horror of my deed, an night,

That shapt theise feares and made me run away,

1275

And loose my Beautious hardly gotten Pray,

Speake Gentle Sheappardess I am alone,

And tender loue, for loue, but shee is gone,

From me, that hauing struke her louer dead:

For filly feare left her a lone and fled:

1280

And see the wounded Body is Remoued.

By her of whome it was so well beloued.

Enter perigot & Amarillis. in the shape of a Amore.

But all theise fancies must be quite for forgott,

I must lye close heere comes younge Perigott,

with subtill Amarillis in the shape,

1285

Of Amoret pray loue hee may not scape.

Amo.

Beloued Perigot, show mee some place,

Where I may rest my Limbes, weake with the Chace

Of thee an hower before thou cam'st at least

per.

Beshrewe my Tardy stepps, here shalt thou rest

1290

Vppon this holy bancke no deadly snake,

Vppon this Turffe her selfe in foulds doth make,

Here is no poyson, for the Toads to feed.

Here boldly spread thy handes, no venomd weed,

Dares blister them, No sly my snaile dare creepe,

1295

Ouer thy face when thou art fast a sleepe,

Here neuer durst the bablinge Cuckoe spitt.

No slough of falling Starr did euer hitt.

Vppon this Bancke let this thy Cabin bee.

This other set with violets for mee.

Amo.

1300

Thou dost not lone mee Perigot?

Per.

Faire mayde

You onely liue to heare it often sayd;

You do not doubt,

Amo.

Beleeue mee, but I doe.

Per.

1305

What shall wee now begin againe to woe,

Tis the best way to make your louer last,

To play with him, when you haue caught him fast,

Amo.

By I an I sweare, beloued Perigot,

And by you Moone, I thincke thou louest me not.

Per:

1310

By Pan I sweare and if I falcely sweare:

Let him not guard my flockes, let Foxes teare,

My Earelyest lambes, and wolues whilst I doe steepe

Fall one the rest a Rott amonge my sheepe,

I loue the better, then the carefull Ewe,

1315

The new yeand lambe that is of her owne hew,

I dote vppon thee more then that young lambe.

Doth on the Bagg, that feedes him from his dam.

Were there a sort of wolues gott in my fould,

And one Rann after thee both young and ould,

1320

Should be deuour'd, and it should bee my strife,

To saue thee, whom I loue aboue, my life,

Amo:

Howe should I trust thee when I see thee chuse

Another bedd, and dost my side refuse,

Per:

Twas only that the chast thoughts, might bee showen,

1325

Twixt thee and mee, although we were alone,

Ama:

Come Perigot will show his power that hee

Can make his Amoret, though she weary bee,

Rise nimbly from her Couch and come to his.

Here take thy Amoret imbrace, and Kisse:

Per.

1330

What meanes my loue;

Amo:

To do as louers shud.

That are to bee inioyed not to bee woed.

Ther's nere a Sheapard esse in all the playne,

Can kisse thee with more Art, ther's none can faine.

1335

More wanton trickes,

Per:

Forbeare deare soule to trye,

Whether my hart be pure, Ile rather dye,

Then nourish one thought to dishonor thee,

Amo:

Still thinkst thou such a thinge as Chastitie,

1340

Is amongst woemen. Perigot thers none,

That with her loue is in a wood alone,

And wood come home a Mayde be not abusd,

With thy sond first beleife, let time be vsd,

Why dost thou rise,

Perigot:

1345

My true heart, thou hast slaine,

Amo.

Fayth Perigot, Ile plucke thee downe againe,

Per.

Let goe thou Serpent that into my brest,

Hast with thy Cunning diu'd art, art not in iest;

Amo:

Sweete loue lye downe,

Per:

1350

Since this I liue to see,

Some bitter North wind blast my flocks and mee

Amo.

You swore you lou'd yet will not doe my will,

Per:

O be as thou wert, once, Ile loue thee still,

Amo:

I am, as still I was and all my kind,

1355

Though other showes wee haue poore men to blynd,

Per:

Then here I end all loue, and lest my vaine,

Beleeife should euer draw me in againe,

Before thy face that hast my youth mislead,

I end my life my blood be on thy head,

Amo:

1360

O hold thy hands thy Amoret doth cry,

Per:

Thou counsayl'st well, first Amoret shall dye,

That is the cause of my Eternall smart,

Auso:

O hold.

Per:

This steele shall peirse thy lustfull hart,

He runs after her

The Sullen Sheapheard stepes out and vncharmes her.

Sullen.

1365

vp and downe euery where,

I strewe the hearbs to purge the Ayer.

Let your Odor driue hence,

All mistes that dazell sence,

Herbes and springs whose hydden mights

1370

Alters shapes, and mocks the sight.

Thus I charge ye to vndo;

All before I brought yee to

Let her flye let her scape,

Giue againe her owne shape:

Enter Amarillis.

1375

For beare thou gentle swayne thou dost mistake;

Shee whom thou followedst fled into the brake

And as I crost thy way I mett thy wrath;

The only feare of which neere slayne me hath,

Per:

Pardon fayre Sheapardesse my rage and night,

1380

Were both vppon me and beguild my sight;

But farr be it from mee to spill the blood.

Of harmelesse maydes that wander in the wood,

Exit

Enter Amoret.

Amoret.

Many a weary stepp in yonder path

Poore hoplesse Amoret twice troden hath,

1385

To seeke her Perigot, yet cannot heare,

His voyce, my Perigot, shee loues thee deare:

That calles.

Per:

See yonder where shee is how faire.

Shee showes, and yet her breath infects the Ayer.

Amo.

1390

My Perigot:

Per:

Here.

Amo:

Happye.

Per:

Haplesse first:

It lights, on thee, the next blowe is the worst,

Amo:

1395

Stay Perigot, my loue, thou art vniust:

Per.

Death is the best reward, thats due to lust;

Exit Per:

Sullen.

Now shall their loue be crost, for being strucke;

Ile throwe her in the Fount least being tooke:

By some Night Trauayler, whose honest care,

1400

May help to cure her, Sherpardesse prepare,

Your selfe to dye,

Amo:

No mercy I doe craue

Thou canst not giue a worsse blowe then I haue;

Tell him that gaue mee this, who lou'd him too

1405

He strucke my soule and not my bodye through:

Tell him when I am dead my soule shall bee.

At peace if hee but thincke hee iniurd mee.

He flinges her into the well

Sullen.

In this Fount bee thy Graue, thou wert not ment,

Sure for a woman, thou art so Innocent

1410

Shee cannot scape for vnderneath the ground,

In a longe hollowe the cleere spring is bound,

Till on you syde where the Morns sunn doth looke,

The strugling water breakes out in a brooke,

Exit.

The God of the Riuer Riseth with Amoret, in his armes

God

what powerfull Charmes my streames doe bring

1415

Backe againe vnto their spring?

With such force that I their god,

Three times stricking with my rod,

Could not keepe them in their Rancks

My fishes shute into the bankes.

1420

Ther's not one, that stayes and feeds,

All haue hidd them in the weedes

Heres a Mortall almost dead,

Falne into my Riuer head,

Hollowed so with many a spell,

1425

That till now none euer fell,

Tis a Feamale young and cleare,

Cast in by some Rauisher,

See vppon her brest a wound,

On which there is no playster bound,

1430

Yet shee's warme, her pulses beat,

Tis a signe of life and heate,

If thou bee'st a virgin pure,

I can giue a present cure,

Take a droope into thy wound

1435

From my watry locke more round,

Then Orient Pearle, and farr more pure,

Then vnchast flesh may endure,

See shee pants and from her flesh,

The warme blood gusheth out a fresh,

1440

She is an vnpoluted mayde:

I must haue this bleeding stayde,

From my banckes, I plucke this flower.

With holy hand whose vertuous power,

Is at once to heale and draw

1445

The blood Returnes I neuer saw,

A fayrer Mortall, now doth breake,

Her deadly slumber, virgin, speake,

Amo:

Who hath restor'd my sence, giuen mee new breath,

And brought mee backe out of the Armes of death,

God.

1450

I haue heald thy wounds:

Amo:

Aye mee,

God.

Feare not him that succord thee:

I am this Fountaynes God belowe,

My waters to a Riuer growe,

1455

And twixt two banckes with Osiers sett,

That only prosper in the wet,

Through the Meddowes do they glide,

Wheeling still on euery syde,

Sometimes winding round about.

1460

To find the Euenest channell out,

And if thou wilt go with mee,

Leauing Mortall company.

In the Coole streames shall thou lye:

Free from harme as well as I,

1465

I will giue thee for thy food,

No fish that vseth in the mudd,

But Trout and Pike that loue to swim,

Where the Grauell from the brim,

Though the pure streames may be seen,

1470

Orient Pearle fit for a Queene,

Will I giue thy loue to winne

And a shell to keepe them in,

Not a fish in all my brooke,

That shall disobeye thy looke,

1475

But when thou wilt come slyding bye,

And from thy white hand take a flye,

And to make thee vnderstand:

How I can my waues commaund,

They shall Bubble whilst I sing,

1480

Sweeter then the siluer string. The Song.

Doe not feare to put thy feete,

Naked in the Riuer sweete,

Thinke not leach, or Neute, or Toad,

Will byte thy foote, when thou hast trod,

1485

Not let the water rising hye

As thou wadest in make thee cry:

And sobb, but euer liue with mee.

And not a waue shall trouble thee.

Amo:

Immortall power, ther rul'st this holy flud,

1490

I know my selfe, vnworthy to be woed,

By the a God, for ere this, but for thee:

I should haue showne my weake Mortallitie,

Besides by holy Oath betwixt vs twaine,

I am betrothd vnto a Sheaphard Swaine,

1495

Whose comely face; I know the Gods aboue:

May make mee leaue to see; but not to loue,

God:

Maye hee proue to thee as trewe:

Fayrest virgin now adue,

I must make my waters flye,

1500

Least they leaue ther Channells dry.

And beasts, that come vnto the spring

Misse ther mornings watringe.

Which I would not, for of late.

All the Neighbour people sate.

1505

One my banckes and from the fold,

Tow white Lambs of three weeks Old,

Offered to my Dietie,

For which this yeare they shall bee free

From raging floods that as they passe,

1510

Leaue their grauell in the grasse,

Nor shall their Meades be ouer flowne,

When their grasse is newly moane,

Amo:

For thy kindnesse to me showne,

Neuer from thy bancks be blowne,

1515

Any Tree; with windy force.

Crosse thy streames to stopp thy Course,

May no Beast that comes to drincke

With his Hornes cast downe thy brincke

May non that for thy fishe doe looke,

1520

Cutt thy banckes to damme thy Brooke:

Bare-foote may no Neighbour wade:

In thy coole streames? wife nor mayde,

When the spawnes one stones do lye,

To wash ther Hempe and spoyle the frye.

God.

1525

Thankes Virgin, I must downe againe.

Thy wound will put thee to noe paine.

Wonder not, so soone tis gone;

A holy hand was layd vppon.

Exit.

Amo:

And I vnhappye borne to bee.

1530

Must follow him, that flyes from mee,

Finis Actus Tertis

Enter Perigot.

Per.

Shee is vntrue vnconstant, and vnkinde,

Shee's gone shee's gone, blow hygh thou North west winde,

And rayse the Sea to Mountaynes: let the Trees,

That dare oppose thy Raging fury leese

1535

Their firme foundation: Creepe into the earth,

And shake the world as at the monstrus birth,

Of some new Prodegey, whilst I constant stand,

Holdinge this trusty Bore-Speare in my hand,

And falling thus vppon it.

Perigot to Enter, Amarillis running

1540

Stay thy dead doing hand thou art to hott,

Against thy selfe belieue me comely Swaine,

If that thou dyest, not all the showers of Rayne.

The heauy Clowdes send downe can wash away:

The foule vnmanly guilt, the world will lay,

1545

Vppon thee, yet thy loue vntainted stands:

Belieue mee shee is constant, not the sands,

Can bee so hardly numbred as shee wunn:

I do not triffle, Sheapard, by thee Moone,

And all those lesser lights our eyes doe vewe

1550

All that I could thee Perigot is true,

Then bee a freeman, put away dispayre,

And will to dye, smooth gently vp that fayre,

Deiected forehead: be as when those eyes,

Tooke the first heat,

Per:

1555

Allas hee doeble dyes,

That would beleiue, but cannot, tis not well,

Ye keepe mee thus from dying here to dwell,

With many worse companions: but oh death,

I am not yet inamourd of his breath,

1560

So much, but I dare leaue it, tis not payne,

In forcing of a wound: nor after gayne,

Of many dayes, can hold mee from my will,

Tis not my selfe, but Amoret. byds kille

Amo.:

Stay, but a little little but on hower,

1565

And if I do not showe thee through the power?

Of hearbes and words I haue, as darke as Night?

My selfe, turn'd to thy Amoret, in sight?

Her very figure, and the Robe shee weares;

With tawny Buskins, and thee hooke she beares

1570

Of thyne owne Caruing, where your names are set,

Wrought vnderneath with many a Curious frett

The prim-Rose Chaplet? taudry-lace and Ring,

Thou gauest her for her singing with each thing,

Else that shee weares about her lett mee feele;

1575

The first tell stroke of that Reuenging steele?

Per.

I am contented if ther bee a hope;

To giue it Entertaynement for the scope;

Of one poore hower; goe you shall find me next?

Vnder you shady Beech? euen thus perplext;

1580

And thus beleiuing.

Amaril.

Bynde before I goe;

Thy soule by Pan vnto mee, not to doe,

Harme or outragious wrong vppon thy life,

Till my Returne.

Per.

1585

By Pan and by the strife;

Hee had with Phoebus for the Masterye,

When Goulden Mydas, iudg'd their Minstralcye;

I will not.

Exeunt;

Enter Satyre with Alexis hurt.

Satyre:

Softly glyding as I goe;

1590

With this Burden full of woe;

Through still silence of the night?

Guided by the glooe-wormes light.

Hether am I come at last;

Many a Thicket hane I past;

1595

Not at twigg that durst deny mee;

Nor a bush that durst descry mee.

To the little Bird that sleepes:

On the tender spray nor creeps,

That hardly worme with poynted Tayle;

1600

But if I bee vnder sayle;

Flying faster then the wind;

Leauinge all the Clowdes behind,

But doth hide her tender head,

In some hollow Tree or bedd;

1605

Of seeded Nettells not a Hare

Can be started from his fare;

By my footing nor a wish;

Is more sudden, nor a fish?

Can bee found; with greater ease,

1610

Cut the vast vnbounded seaes;

Leauing neither print nor sound.

Then I when nimbly on the ground,

I measure many a leage an howre;

But behold the happy bower,

1615

That must ease me of my charge,

And by holy hand enlardge;

The soule of this sadd man that yet,

Lyes fast bound in deadly fit,

Heauen and great Pan, sucker it,

1620

Hayle thou beauty of the Bower,

Whither then the Paramore:

Of my Maister; let me craue,

Thy virteous helpe to keepe from Graue,

This poore Mortall that here lyes,

1625

Wayting when thee destinyes.

Will vndo his thread of life,

Veiwe the wound by cruell knife,

Trencht into him.

Clor:

What art thou? call'st mee from my holy Rightes

1630

And with the feared name of death a frightes

My tender Eares, speake me thy name and will,

Satyre

I am the Statyre that did fill,

Your lapp with early fruite and will,

When I happ to gather more,

1635

Bring yee better, and more store:

Yet I come not empty now,

See a blossome from the bowe,

But be shrewe his hart that pulld it,

And his perfect Sight that Culld it,

1640

From the other springinge bloomes

For a sweeter youth the Gwomes

Cannot show mee nor the downes:

Nor the many neighbouring Townes,

Low in yonder glade I found him,

1645

Softly in mine Armes I bound him,

Hether haue I brought him sleeping,

In a Trance, his wounds fresh weepinge,

In remembrance such youth may

Spring and perish in a Day.

Clor:

1650

Satyre: they wrong thee, that doe tearme thee rude

Though thou beest outward rough and tawny hued:

Thy manners are as gentle and as fayre,

As his who bragges himselfe, borne only heyre,

To all Humanity: let mee see thie wound:

1655

This Hearb will stay the Currant being bound,

Fast to the Orephyse, and this restrayne,

Vlcers, and Swellinges, and such inward payne,

As the cold Ayre hath forc'd into the sore,

This to, drawe out such Putrifiing gore,

1660

As inward falls.

Satyre:

Heauen grant it may doe good,

Clor:

Fayrely wipe away the blood,

Hold him gently till I fling,

Water of a vertuous spring:

1665

On his Temples turne him twice:

To the Moone beames pinch him thrice:

That the labouring soule may drawe.

From his great ecclipse.

Satry:

I sawe.

1670

His Eye-lids moouing.

Clor:

Giue him breath,

All the danger of cold death:

Now is vanisht, with this playster:

And this vnction doe I maister:

1675

All the festred ill that maye:

Giue him greife another day.

Satyr:

See hee gathers vp his spright

And begins to hunt for light,

Now a gapes and breathes agayne:

1680

How the bloud runns to the vayne:

That east was emply.

Alexis.

Oh my hart,

My dearest, dearest Cloe O the smart,

Runnes, through my side: I feele some poynted thing,

1685

Passe through my Bowels, sharper then the stinge,

Of Scorpion.

Pan, preserue mee, what are you,

Doe not hurt mee. I am true,

To my Cloe though shee fly

1690

And leaue mee to this Destiny,

There shee stands, and will not lend,

Her smooth white hand to helpe her freind,

But I am much mistaken, for that face,

Beares more Austeritye and modest grace,

1695

More reprouing and more awe.

Then theise Eyes yet euer sawe,

In my Cloe, oh my payne:

Eagerly Renewes againe:

Giue mee your helpe for his sake you loue best:

Clor:

1700

Sheapheard thou Canst not possible take rest.

Till thou hast layed a syde all heates, desiers,

Prouoking thoughts, that stirr vpp lusty fiers.

Commerse with wanton Eyes: strong bloud and will,

To execute theise must bee purg'd vntill,

1705

The vayne growe Whiter then Repent and pray:

Great Pan, to keepe you from the like decaye,

And I shall vndertake your cure with ease.

Till when this verteous Playsters will displease,

Your tender sides. giue mee your hand and rise.

1710

helpe him a little Satyre. for his Thyghes.

Yet are feeble.

Alexis.

Sure I haue lost much blood.

Satyre.

Tis no matter, twas not good,

Mortall you must leaue your woing,

1715

Though ther be aloye in doing,

Yet it brings much griefe, behynd it,

They best feele it, that doe find it,

Clor:

Come bringe him in, I will attend his sore,

When you are well, take heed you lust no more,

Satyr:

1720

Sheapeard see what comes of kissinge

By my head twere better missing,

Bryghtest if ther, bee ramayning,

Any seruice, without fayninge,

I will do it, were I sett,

1725

To catch the nimble wind or gett,

Shaddowes glydinge on the greene,

Or to steale from the great Queene,

Of Fayryes, all her Beautye,

I would do it so much dutye,

1730

Doe I owe those pretious Eyes,

Clor:

I thancke the honest Satyre, if the Cryes,

Of any other that be hurt, or ill,

Draw thee vnto them, prithee do thy will?

To bring them hether,

Satyre:

1735

I will and when the weather:

Serues to Angle in the brooke,

I will bring a siluer hooke,

With a lyne of finest silke,

And a rodd as white as milke,

1740

To deserue the little fishe,

Soe I take my leaue and wish,

On this bowre may euer dwell,

Springe, and sommer.

Clor:

Friend farewell.

Exit.

Enter Amoret, seeking her loue

Amo:

1745

This place is Ominous for here I lost,

My loue and almost life, and since haue crost,

All theise woodes ouer, neuer a Nooke or dell,

Where any little Byrd, or beast doth dwell,

But I haue sought it, neuer a bending browe,

1750

Of any hill or Glade, the wind sings through,

Nor a greene bancke or shade where Sheapeards vse,

To sitt and Riddle sweetely pipe or chuse,

Their valentynes but I haue mist to find.

My loue in, Perigot, Oh to vnkind.

1755

Why hast thou fled mee? whether art thou gone,

Howe haue I wrong'd thee? was my loue alone,

To thee, worthy this scorned Recompence? tis well,

I am content to feele it; but I tell

Thee Sheapeard: and theise lusty woods shall heare.

1760

Forsaken Amoret is yet as cleare,

Of any stranger fier, as Heauen is.

From foule Corruption, or the deepe: Abisse,

From light, and happynesse, and thou mayst knowe,

All this for truth and how that fatall blowe,

1765

Thou gauest mee, neuer from desert of myne,

Fell on my life, but from suspect of thyne,

Or fury more then Madnes therefore, here.

Since I haue lost my life, my loue, my deare,

Vpon this cursed place, and on this greene,

1770

That first devorced vs, shortly shall bee seene,

A sight of so great pitty that each eye,

Shall dayly spend his spring in memorye.

Enter Amarillis.

Of my vntymely fall.

Amaril:

I am not blynd,

1775

Nor is it through the working of my Mynd.

That this showes Amoret, forsake me all,

That dwell vppon the soule, but what men call

Wonder, or more then wonder Miracle,

For sure so strange as this the Oracle,

1780

Neuer gaue answere of, It passeth dreames,

Or maddmens fancye when the many streames,

Of newe Imagination rise and fall:

Tis but an howre since theise Eares heard her call,

For pitty to young Perigot? whilst hee,

1785

Directed by his fury Bloodelye,

Lanch't vpp her brest, which bloudlesse fell and cold,

And if beleife may Credit what was told,

After all this the Mellancholly Swayne,

Tooke her into his Armes being almost slayne.

1790

And to the bottom of the holy well,

slung her for euer with the waues to dwell,

Tis shee, the very same, tis Amoret.

And liuing yet, the great powers will not let,

Their verteous loue be Crost, mayde wipe away,

1795

Those heauy dropps of sorrow, and allay,

The storme that yet goes high, which not deprest,

Breakes, hart, and life, and all before it rest:

Thy Perigot:

Amo:

where: which is Perigot.

Amaril

1800

Sits there below lamenting much God wott:

Thee, and thy fortune, goe and comfort him,

And thou shalt finde him vnderneath a brim,

Of sayling Pynes that edge yon Mountaine in,

Amo:

I goe, I run Heauen graunt mee. I maye winn:

1805

His soule agayne.

Enter Sullen:

Stay Amarillis stay,

Ye are to fleete, tis two howers yet to days

I haue perform'd my promise lett vs sitt;

And warme our bloodes together till the fit;

1810

Come liuely on vs;

Amaril:

Freind you are to keene;

The Morning, Riseth, and wee shall be seene,

For beare a little;

Sullen:

I can staye no longer;

Amaril:

1815

Hold Sheapeard hold, learne not to bee a wronger;

Of your word, was not your promise layed,

To break their loues first:

Sullen:

I haue done it Mayd?

Amaril:

No they are yet vnbroken, met againe,

1820

And are as hard to part yet as the stayne?

Is from the finest lawne,

Sullen.

I say they are.

now at this present parted, and so farr,

That they shall neuer meete,

Amaril

1825

Swayne tis not so,

For do but to yon hanging Mountayne goe,

And ther beleiue your eyes,

Sullen:

you doe but hold:

Of with delayes: and trifles, fare wel cold,

1830

And frozen bashfullnes, vnfit for men,

Thus I sallute thee virgin,

Amaril:

And thus then,

I bid you followe, Catch mee if ye can,

Exit.

Sullen.:

And If I stay behind I am no Man.

Exit running after her

Enter Perigot.

1835

Night do not steale away: I woe thee yet?

To hold a hard hand ore the Rusty bytt,

That Gydes thy Lazy teame goe backe againe,

Bootes thou that driu'st thy frozen wane,

Round as a Ringe and bring a second Night,

1840

To hyde my sorowes from the comming light,

Let not the Eyes of men stare on my face,

And read my falling giue mee some blacke place,

Where neuer sunn beame, shot his wholsome light,

That I may sitt, and powre out my sadd spright,

1845

Like running water neuer to be knowne:

After the forced fall and sound is gone,

Enter Amoret looking of Perigot

This is the bottome: speake if thou be here,

My Perigot, thy Amoret, thy deare,

Calles on thy loued Name,

Per:

1850

What thou dare,

Tread theise forbydden pathes, where death and care,

Dwell on the face of darcknes,

Amo:

Tis thy friend,

Thy Amoret come hether to giue end,

1855

To theise consuminges looke vpp gentle Boye,

I haue forgot those paynes, and deare annoy,

I sufferd for thy sake, and am content,

To bee thy loue againe why hast thou rent,

Those curled lockes, wher I haue often hunge,

1860

Ribandes and damaske Roses, and haue flunge,

Waters distilld to make thee fresh and gaye,

Sweeter then Nose-gayes on a Bridall daye,

Why dost thou crosse thyne Armes, and hang thy face,

Downe to thy Boosome, letting fall apace,

1865

From those too little Heauens vppon the ground

Showres of more price, more Orient, & more round

Then those that hange vppon the moones pale browe

Cease theise complainings Sheapheard I am nowe,

The same, I euer was, as kinde and free,

1870

And can forgiue before you aske of mee,

Indeed I can, and will.

Per:

Soe spoke my fayre,

O you great working powers of Earth, and Ayre,

Water, and forming fier, why haue you lent,

1875

Your hydden vertues of so ill intent,

Euen such a face, so fayre so bright of hewe,

Had Amoret, such, words soe smooth and newe,

Came flowing from her tongue, such was her eye,

And such the poynted sparckle that did flye

1880

Forth like a bleeding shaft, all is the same,

The Robe, and Buskins, painted, hooke, and frame,

Of all her Body O mee Amoret,

Amo:

Sheapeard what meanes this Riddle who hath sett,

So strange a difference, twixt my selfe and mee,

1885

That I am growne annother, looke and see.

The Ring thou gauest mee, and about my wrest.

That Curious Braeslet thou thy selfe didst twist.

From those fayre Tresses, knowest thou Amoret.

Hath not some newer loue forced thee forget,

1890

Thy Auncient fayth,

Per:

Still nearer to my loue;

Theise be the very words shee oft did proue,

Vppon my temper, so shee still wod take,

wonder into her face, and silent make,

1895

Singes whith her head and hand as who wod saye

Sheapeard remember this annother daye:

Amo:

Am I not Amoret. where was I lost,

Can there be Heauen, and time, and men most

Of theise vnconstant? fayth where art thou fled?

1900

Are all the vowes and protestations dead:

The hands held vpp? the wishes and the hart?

Is ther not one remayninge not apart,

Of all theise to bee found why then I see:

Men neuer knewe that vertue constancye

Per

1905

Men euer were most blessed, till Crosse fate,

Brought loue, and woemen forth vnfortunate,

To all that euer tasted of their smiles,

Whose Actions are all double, full of wiles,

Like to the subtill Hare, that fore the Houndes,

1910

Makes many turnings leapes and many roundes,

This waye aud that waye, to deceaue the sent,

Of her pursuers:

Amo:

Tis but to preuent,

Ther speedy comminge, on that seeke her fall,

1915

The hands of Cruell men more Bestiall,

And of a nature more refusing good,

Then beastes themselues, or fishes of the flood,

Thou art all theise, and more then nature ment,

When shee created all, frownes, ioyes, content:

1920

Extreame fier for an hower, and presentlye:

Colder then sleepy poyson: or the sea,

Vppon whose face sitts a continuall frost

Your Actions euer driuen to the most,

Then downe agayne as lowe that none can find,

1925

The rise or falling of a woemans minde,

Amo:

Can ther bee any Age, or dayes, or time,

Or tongues: of Men, guilty so great a crime:

As wronging simple Mayde, O Perigot:

Thou that wast yesterday without a blott,

1930

Thou that wast euery goode and euery thinge,

That men call blessed: thou that wast the spring.

From whence our looser groomes drew all their best:

Thou that wast alwaies Iust, and alwaies blest,

In fayth and promise, thou that hadst the name,

1935

Of vertuous giuen thee, and made good the same:

Euen from thy Cradle: thou that wast that all,

That men delighted in, Oh what a fall,

Is this to haue bene soe, and now to bee,

The onlye best in wrong, and infamye,

1940

And I to liue to know this, and by mee.

That lou'd thee dearer then, myne Eyes or that,

Which wee esteeme our honour virgin state,

Dearer then swallowes loue the early morne,

Or doggs of Chace the sound of merry Horne,

1945

Dearer then thou canst loue thy newe loue, if thou hast

Another and farr dearer then the last,

Dearer then thou can'st loue thy selfe, though all,

The selfe loue were wîthin thee, that did fall.

with that coye swayne: hat now is made a flower

1950

For whose deare sake, Eccho weepes many a showre

And am I thus rewarded for my flame,

Lou'd worthely to gett a wantons name,

Come thou forsaken willowe winde my head,

And noyse it to the world, my loue is dead:

1955

I am forsaken I am Cast awaye,

And left for euery lazy Grome to saye,

I was vnconstant light, and sooner lost,

Then the quicke Clowds wee see or the Chill frost,

When the hott sun beates on it tell mee yet,

1960

Canst thou not lone againe thy Amorett?

Per.

Thou art not worthy of that blessed name,

I must not knowe thee, flynge thy wanton flame,

vppon some lighter blood: that may be hott,

With words and fayned passions, Perigot,

1965

Was euer yet vnstaynd, and shall not nowe.

Stoope to the meltings of a borrowed browe:

Amo:

Then heare mee heauen: to whome I call for right.

And you sayre twinckling starres that crowne the night,

And heare mee woods and and silence of this place,

1970

And ye sad howers, that mooue a sullen pace,

Heare mee ye shadowes, that delight to dwell,

In horred darknesse, and ye powers of Hell,

Whilst I breath out my last, I am that mayde,

That yet vntaynted Amoret that played:

1975

The carelesse Prodigall: and gaue awaye:

My soule to this younge man that now dares say:

I am a stranger, not the same, more wild,

And thus with much beleife, I was be,

I am that Mayde, that haue delayd denye,

1980

Aud almost scornd the loues of all that tryde,

To win me but this swayne, and yet confesse,

I haue bene woed by many with no lesse.

Soule of affection and haue often had:

Ringes Bellts and Cracknels. sent me from the lad.

1985

That feeds his flockes downe westward, Lambes and Doues

By young Alexis, Daphnis sent me gloues,

All which I gaue to thee not theise nor they

That sent them, did I smyle one, or ere lay.

vpp to my after memorye but why,

1990

Do I resolue to grieue and not to dye

Happy had bene the stroake thou gauest if home,

By this tyme had I found a quiet roome.

Where euery slaue is free, and euery brest,

That liuing bread, new care, now lyes at rest,

1995

And thether will poore Amoret,

Ver.

Thou must,

Was euer any man, soe loath to trust,

His Eyes as I, or was ther euer yet,

Any so like, as this to Amoret,

2000

For whose deare sake, I promise if ther bee

A liuing soule within thee thus to free,

Thy Body from it,

He hurls her agayne.

Amo:

So this worke hath end.

Farewell and liue be constant to thy friend,

2005

That loues thee next,

Enter Satyre: Perigot runns of.

Satyre.

See the day begins to breake,

And the light shutts like a streake,

Of subtill fier the wind blowes cold,

Whilst the morning doth vnfold,

2010

Nowe the Byrds begin to rouse,

And the Squyrrill from the boughes,

Leps to gett him Nutts and fruite,

The early Larke earst was mute,

carrolls to the Risinge daye,

2015

Many a Note, and manye laye,

Therfore here I end my watch,

Least the wandering Swayne should catch,

Harme or loose him selfe

Amo:

ah mee.

Satyre:

2020

speake agayne what ere thou bee,

I am ready speake I say,

By the dawning of the day,

By the power of Night and Pan;

I inforce thee speake againe,

Amo:

2025

O I am most vnhappie.

Satyre.

Yet more blood,

Sure these wanton Swaynes are wood,

Can there be a hand, or hart,

Dare commit so vild a part,

2030

As this Murder, by the Moone,

That hydd her selfe when this was done,

Neuer was a sweeter face,

I will beare her to the place,

Where my Goddess keepes and craue,

2035

Her to giue her life, or graue,

exeunt,

Enter Clorin,

Clorin,

Here whilst one patient takes his rest secure

I steale a broad to doe annother Cure,

Pardon thou buryed body of my loue,

That from thy side I dare so soone remooue,

2040

I will not proue vnconstant nor will leaue,

Thee for an hower alone, when I deceaue,

My first made vowe, the wildest of the wood,

Teare me, and ore thy Graue lett out my blood,

I goe by witt to Cure a louers payne,

2045

Which no hearb can, being done, Ile come againe,

Exit,

Enter Thenot

Poore Sheapeard in this shade for euer lye,

And seeing thy fayre Clorins, Cabin dye,

O happlesse loue which being answered ends,

And as a little Infant cryes and bendes,

2050

His tender Browes, when rowling of his eye,

He hath espyed some thing that glisters nye.

Which he would haue, yet giue it him, away,

He throwes it straight, and cryes a fresh to playe

With some thing else such my affection sett,

2055

On that which I should loath if I could gett

Enter Clorin.

See where hee lies did euer man but hee,

Loue any woeman for her Constancy,

To her dead louer which she needs must end,

Before she can alowe him, for her freind,

2060

And he himselfe, must needes the cause destroye,

For which he loues, before he can inioye,

Poore Sheapeard, Heauen grant I at once may free,

Thee from thy payne, and keepe my loyalty,

Sheapheard looke vpp,

Thenot

2065

Thy brightnesse doth amaze,

Soe Phoebus may at Noone byd mortalls gaze,

Thy glorious constancy appeares so bright,

I dare not meete the Beames with my weake sight

Clorin.

Why dost thou pyne away thy selfe for mee

Thenot

2070

Why dost thou keepe such spottlesse constancy?

Clorin.

Thou holy Sheapheard see what for thy sake,

Clorin, thy Clorin, now dare vndertake, he starts vp

Thenot.

Stay ther, thou constant Clorin if ther bee,

Yet any part of woeman left in thee,

2075

To make thee light thincke yet before thou speake,

Clorin.

See what a holy vowe, for thee I breake,

I that already haue my fame farr spread,

For beeing constant to my louer dead

Thenot.

thincke yet deare Clorin of your loue, how trewe,

2080

If you had dyed, he would haue bene to you

Clorin

Yet all Ile loose for thee.

Thenot.

Thincke but how blest,

A constant woeman is aboue the rest,

Clorin.

And offer vpp my selfe, here on this ground,

2085

To be disposd by thee,

Thenes

why dost thou wound,

His hart with Mallice, against woemen more.

That hated all the Sex, but thee before,

How much more pleasant had it bene to mee,

2090

To dye then behold this change in thee,

Yet, yet returne: let not the woeman swaye,

Clorin:

Insult not on her now, nor vse delaye

Who for thy sake hath venturd all her fame,

Thenot:

Thou hast not venturd but bought Certaine shame,

2095

Your Sexes Curse, foule falshood, must and shall,

I see once in your liues light on you all;

I hate thee now: yet turne

Clorin,

Be iust to mee:

Shall I at once loose both my fame and thee,

Thenot.

2100

Thou hadst no fame, that which thou didst like good

Was but thy Appetite that swayed thy bloud,

For that time to the best, for as a blast,

That through a house comes, vsually doth cast,

Things out of order: yet by chaunce may come,

2105

And blowe some one thinge to his proper rome,

Soe did thy Appetite, and not thy zeale.

Swaye the by chaunce to do some one thing well.

Yet turne.

Clorin:

Thou dost but trye me if I would.

2110

Forsake thy deere imbraces for my ould

Loues though he were aliue, but doe not feare,

Thenot

I doe contemne thee nowe: and dare come neare.

And gayse vppon thee, for me thinkes that grace:

Austeritye, which satt vppon that face,

2115

Is gone, and thou like others false mayde see,

This is the gaine of foule Inconstance,

Exit.

Clorin:

Tis done great: Pan, I giue thee thankes for it,

What Art could not haue heald, is curd by witt,

Enter: Thenot agayne:

Will ye be constant yet, will ye remooue,

2120

Into the Cabin to your buryed loue,

Clorin:

Noe lett me dye, but by thy side remayne,

Thenot.

Ther's none shall knowe that thou didst euer stayne,

Thy worthy stricknes, but shalt honnerd bee

And I will lye againe vnder this tree,

2125

And pine and dye for thee with more delight,

Then I haue sorrow now to know thee light,

Clorin.

Let mee haue thee, and Ile be where thou wilt.

Thenot.

Thou art of womens race and full of guilt,

Farewell all hope of that sex, whilst I thought,

2130

There was one good, I feared to find one nought

But since there minds I all alike espie

Hence foorth Ile chuse as thers, by mine eye,

Clorin.

Blest be yee powers that gaue such quicke redresse,

And for my labours sent so good successe,

2135

I rather chuse though I a woman bee,

He should speake ill of all,

then dye for me.

Finis Actus quartus.

Actus Quintus. Scena. 1.

Enter Priest, and old Shepheard.

Priest.

Shepheards, rise and shake of sleepe.

See the blushing Morne doth peepe,

2140

Through the windowes, whilst the Sunne

To the Mountayne topps is runne,

Gilding all the vales below,

With his rising flames which grow,

Greater by his climing still.

2145

Vp yee lazy groomes and fill,

Bagg and Bottle for the fielde,

Claspe your cloakes fast lest they yeeld,

To the bitter Northeast wind,

Call the Maydens vp and find.

2150

Who laye longest, that she may,

Go without a friend all daye.

Then reward your dogs and praye,

Pan to keepe you from decay,

So vnfold, and then away

2155

What not a Shepheard stirring sure the groomes,

Haue found their beds to easie, or the Roomes.

Fillde with such new delight, and heat that they,

Haue both forgot their hungry sheepe, and day,

Knock that they may remember what a shame,

2160

Sloath and neclect, layes on a Shepheards name.

Old.

It is to little purpose, not a swayne,

This night hath knowne his lodging, heere; or layne,

Within these cotes: the woods or some neere towne,

that is a neighbour to the bordering downe:

2165

Hath drawne them thether, bout some lusty sport;

Or spiced wassal Boule, to which resort.

All the young men and maydes of many a coate,

Whilst the Trim, Minstrell strikes his merry note.

Priest.

God pardon sinne, showe me the way that leades,

2170

To any of their haunts.

Old.

This to the Meades.

And that downe to the woods,

Priest.

Then this for me,

Come Shepheard let me craue your company.

exeunt.

Enter Clorin in her Cabin, Allexis with her, and Amorillis

Clorin.

2175

Now your thoughts are almost pure:

And your wound beginns to cure.

Striue to bannish all thats vaine,

Lest it should breake out againe.

Allexis.

Eternall thanks to thee, thou holy mayde:

2180

I find my former wandring thoughts, well stayd,

Through thy wise precepts, and my outward payne,

By thy choyce hearbs is almost gone againe.

Thy sexes vice and vertue are reueald,

At once, for what one hurt another heald.

Clorin.

2185

May thy griefe more apease,

Relapses, are the worst disease:

Take heede how you in thought offend,

So mind and body both will mend.

Enter Satyre with Amoret.

Amo.

Beest thou the wildest creature of the Wood,

2190

That bearst me thus a way drownd in my blood.

And dying, know I cannot iniurd be

I am a mayde, let that name fight for me:

Satire.

Fayrest Virgine do not feare,

Me that doth thy body beare,

2195

Not to hurt, but held to be,

Men are ruder farre then we.

See fayre Goddesse in the wood,

They haue let out yet more blood:

Some sauadge man hath strucke her brest

2200

So soft and white, that no wild beast,

Durst a toucht asleepe or wake,

So sweete that Adder, Neut, or Snake.

Would haue layne from arme to arme,

On her Bossome to be warme,

2205

All a night and being hot,

Gone away and stung her not.

Quickly clap hearbs to her brest,

A man sure is a kind of Beast,

Clorin.

With spottlesse hand, on spotlesse Brest,

2210

I put these hearbs to giue thee rest.

Which till it heale the there wil bide

If both be pure, if not of slide.

See it falls of from the wound,

Sepheardesse thou art not sound,

2215

Fall of lust.

Satyre.

Who would haue thought it,

So fayre a face:

Clorin.

Why that hath brought it.

Amo.

For ought I know or thinke, these words my last:

2220

Yet Pan, so helpe me as my thoughts are chast.

Clorin.

And so may Pan blesse this my cure,

As all my thoughts are iust and pure,

Some vncleanesse nye doth lurke,

That will not let my medcines worke.

2225

Satyre search if thou canst find it,

Satyre.

Here away me thinks I wind it.

Stronger yet, Oh here they be,

Heere heere in a hollow tree.

Two fond mortalls haue I found,

Clorin.

2230

Bring them out they are vnsound.

Enter Cloe, and Daphinis.

Satyre.

By the fingers thus I wring yee,

To my Goddesse thus I bring yee.

Strife is vayne come gently in,

I sented them, they are full of sinne,

Clorin.

2235

Hold Satyre, take this Glasse,

Sprinkle ouer all the place,

Purge the Ayre from lustfull breath,

To saue this Shepheardesse frō death.

And stand you still, whilst I do dresse

2240

Her wound for feare the payne increase,

Satyre.

From this glasse I throw a dropp,

Of Christall water on the topp.

Of euery grasse on flowers a payre:

Send a fume and keepe the Ayre,

2245

Pure and wholesome, sweete & blest,

Till this virgins wound be drest,

Clorin.

Satyre help to bring her in,

Satyre.

By Pan, I thinke shee hath no sinne.

She is so light, lye on these leaues,

2250

Sleepe that mortall sence deceaues.

Crowne thine eyes, and ease thy paine,

Mayst thou sone be well againe,

Clorin.

Satyre bring the Shepheard nere,

Trye him if his mind be cleere,

Satyre.

2255

Shepheard come,

Daphinis.

My thoughts are pure,

The better tryall to endure.

Satyre.

In this flame his finger thrust,

Clorin.

Which will burne him if he lust.

2260

But if not away will turne,

As loath vnspotted flesh to burne:

See it giues backe let him go.

Farewell Mortall keepe thee so.

Satyre.

Stay fayre Nymph, flye not so fast,

2265

Wee must trye if yon be chaste:

Heres a hand that quaks for feare,

Sure she will not proue so cleare:

Clorin.

Hold her finger to the flame:

That will yeeld her praise or shame.

Satire.

2270

To her doome shee dares not stand,

But pluckes away her tender hand:

And the Taper darting sends,

His hot beames at her fingers ends.

O thou art foule within, and hast;

2275

A mind if nothing else vnchast.

Alexis.

Is not that Cloe? tis my loue; tis shee:

Cloe, faire Cloe.

Cloe.

My Alexis.

Alexis:

He.

Cloe.

2280

Let me imbrace thee.

Clorin.

Take her hence, Least her sight disturbe his sence.

Alexis.

Take not her: take my life first.

Clorin.

See his wound againe is burst,

Keepe her neere heere in the wood.

2285

Til I haue stopt these streames of bloud.

Soone againe he ease shall find,

If I can but still his minde:

This curtaine thus I do display,

To keepe the pierceing Ayre away.

Enter old sheepheard, and Priest.

Priest.

2290

Sure they are lost for euer, tis in vaine,

To finde them out, with trouble and much paine:

That haue a Ripe desire, and forward will,

To flye the company of all, but ill:

What shall be counsaild: Now shall we retire?

2295

Or constant follow still, that first desire,

We had to finde them?

Olde.

Stay a little while:

For if the mornings mist do not beguile,

My sight with shaddowes: sure I see a swaine

2300

One of this iolly troopes come backe againe.

Enter Thenot.

Priest.

Doest thou not blush young sheepheard to be knowne,

Thus without care, leauing thy flocks alone:

And followinge what desire and present bloud,

Shapes out before thy burning sence, for good,

2305

Hauinge forgot what tongue hereafter may

Tell to the world thy faleing off, and say

Thou art regardlesse both of good and shame,

Spurning at vertue, and a verteous name:

And like a glorious desperat man, that buies,

2310

A poison of much price, by which he dyes

Doest thou lay out for lust, whose only gaine,

Is foule disease, with present age and paine:

And then a Graue: these be the frutes that growe,

In such hot vaines that only beat to know,

2315

Where they may take most ease & growe ambitious,

Through their owne wanton fire, and pride delitious.

Thenot.

Right holy Sir I haue not knowen this night,

What the smooth face of Mirth was: or the sight,

Of any loosenesse, musicke, ioy and ease,

2320

Haue bene to me, as bitter drugges to please

A Stomake lost with weakenesse, not a game

That I am skild at throghly, nor a dame,

Went her tongue smoother then the feete of Time,

Her beauy euer liuing like the Rime,

2325

Our blessed Tyterus did singe of yore,

No, were shee more entising then the store

Of fruitfull Summer, when the loaden tree,

Bids the faint Traueller be bolde and free

Twere but to me like Thunder gainst the bay,

2330

Whose lightning may inclose, but neuer stay

Vpon his charmed branches, such am I,

Against the catching flames of womans eye.

Priest.

Then wherefore hast thou wandred.

Thenot.

Twas a vowe,

2335

that drew me out last night, which I haue nowe,

Strictly perform'd, and homewards go to giue

fresh pasture to my sheepe, that they may liue.

Priest.

Tis good to heare ye Sheephard if the heart,

In this well sounding Musick beare his part;

2340

Where haue you left the rest,

I haue not seene,

Since yesternight, we met vpon this greene,

To fould our flocks vp, any of that trayne

Yet haue I walkt these woods round and have laine

2345

All this long night vnder an aged tree.

Yet neyther wandring Shepheard did I see,

Or Shepheardesse, or drew into myne eare,

The sound of liuing thing vnlesse it were,

The Nightingale, among the thicke leaued spring

2350

That fits alone, in sorrow and doth sing:

Whole nights away in mourning, or the Owle,

Or our great Enemye that still doth howle.

Against the Moones cold beames.

Priest.

Go and beware,

2355

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 Shepheard Daphinis,

Daphnis.

Hee,

Preest.

2360

Where hast left the rest, that should haue bene

Long before this, grazing vpon the greene:

Their yet imprisond flocks,

Daph.

Thou holy man.

Giue me a litle breathing till I can,

2365

Be able to vnfold what I haue seene,

Such horror that the like hath neuer bene,

Knowne to the eare of Shepheard: oh my heart,

Labours a double motion to impart,

So heauy tydings you all know the Bower,

2370

Where the chast Clorin, liues by whose great power,

Sicke men and cattell hane bene often cur'd,

There louely Amoret, that was assur'd,

To lusty Perrigot: bleedes out her life:

Forced by some iron hand and fatall knife,

2375

And by her young Allexis.

Enter Amarillis running from her sullen sheepeheard.

If there be

Euer a Neighbour-brooke or hollow tree,

Receiue my body, close me vp from lust,

That follows at my heeles, be euer iust,

2380

Thou God of sheepheards: Pan for her deare sake,

That loues the Riuers brinks, and still doeth shake,

In colde remenbrance of thy quick pursute:

Let me be made a reede, and euer mute,

Nod to the waters fall, whilest euery blast,

2385

Singes through my slender leaues that I was chaste:

Priest.

This is a night of wonder, Amarill,

Be Comforted, the holy gods are still,

Reuengers of these wrongs.

Amar.

Thou blessed man,

2390

Honourd vpon these plaines aud lou'd of Pan:

Heare me, and saue from endles infamy,

My yet vnblasted flower Virginitie

By all the Garlands that haue croun'd that head,

By thy chast office, and the mariage bed,

2395

That still is blest by thee: by all the rights

Due to our God: and by those virgin lights,

That burne before his Altar: let me not,

Fall from my former state to gaine the blot

That neuer shall be purged.

2400

I am not now,

That wanton Amarillis: heere I vowe,

To Heauen, and thee graue father, if I may,

Scape this vnhappy Night, to knowe the day,

A virgin, neuer after to endure

2405

The tongues, or company of men vnpure.

I heare him, come, saue me.

Priest

Retire a while,

Behinde this bush, till wee haue knowen that vile

Abuser of young maydens.

Enter Sullen.

2410

Stay thy pace,

Most loued Amarillis: let the chase,

growe calme and milder, flye me not so fast,

I feare the pointed Brambles haue vnlac't

Thy golden Buskins, turne againe and see:

2415

Thy Shepheard follow, that is strong and free,

Able to giue thee all content and case,

I am not bashfull virgin, I can please:

At first encounter hugg thee in mine arme,

And giue thee many kisses, soft and warme,

2420

As those the Sunne prints on thy smiling cheeke,

Of Plummes or mellow peaches I am sleeke,

And smooth as Neptune when stearne Eolus,

Locks vp his surley winds and nimbly thus,

Can shew my Actiue youth why doost thou flye.

2425

Remember Amarillis it was I,

That kild Alexis for thy sake, and set,

An euerlasting hate twixt Amoret,

And her beloued Perigot twas I,

That drownd her in the well, where she must lye,

2430

Till time shall leaue to be, then turne againe:

Turne with thy open armes and clipp the swayne

That hath performd all this, turne turne I saye:

I must not be deluded,

Priest.

Monster stay,

2435

Thou that art like a canker to the state,

Thou liuest and brethest in, eating with debate,

Through euery honest bosome, forcing still,

The vaynes of any men, may serue thy will.

Thou that hast offered with a sinfull hand,

2440

To seaze vpon this virgin that doth stand,

yet trembling here.

Sullen.

Good holynesse declare,

What had the danger bene if being bare,

I had imbracd her, tell me by your Art:

2445

What comming wonders wood that fight impart.

Priest.

Lust, and branded soule,

Sullen.

Yet tell me more,

Hath not our Mother Nature for her store,

And great increase, sayd it is good and iust,

2450

And willd that euery liuing creature must,

Beget his like.

Priest.

Yee are better read then I,

I must confesse in Blood and Letchery:

Now to the Bowre and bring this beast along,

2455

Where he may suffer Pennance for his wrong,

Enter Perigot with his hand bloody,

Per.

Here will I wash it in the mornings dewe,

Which she on euery litle grasse doth strewe,

In siluer dropps against the Sunnes appeare:

Tis holy water and will make me cleere.

2460

My hand will not be cleansed, my wronged loue,

If thy chast spirit in the Ayre yet moue,

Looke mildly downe on him that yet doth stand,

All full of guilt thy blood vpon his hand,

And though I strucke thee vndeseruedly,

2465

Let my reuenge on her that Iniurd thee.

Make lesse a fault which I intended not,

And let these dew dropps wash away my spot,

It will not cleanse, O to what sacred flood,

Shall I resort to wash away this blood:

2470

Amidst these Trees the holy Clorin. dwells,

In a low Cabin, of cut boughs and heales,

All wounds, to her I will my selfe a dresse,

And my rash faultes repentantly confesse:

Perhaps sheele find a meanes by Arte or prayer,

2475

To make my hand with chast blood stayned, fayre

That done not farre hence vnderneath some tree,

Ile haue a little Cabin built since shee,

Whom I adorde is dead, there will I giue,

My selfe to stricknesse and like Clorin liue.

exit.

The Curtayne is drawne, Clorin appeares sitting in the Cabin, Amoret sitting on the on side of her, Allexis and Cloe on the other, the Satyre standing by.

Clorin.

2480

Shepheard once more your blood is stayed,

Take example by this mayd,

Who is healde ere you be pure,

so hard it is lewd lust to cure,

Take heede then how you turne your eyes

2485

On these other lust fully,

And sheepheardesse take heed least you,

Moue his willing eye thereto,

Let no wring, nor pinch, nor smile

Of yours, his weaker sence beguyle,

2490

Is your loue yet true and chast,

And for euer so to last.

Alexis.

I haue forgot all vaine desires,

All looser thoughts, ill tempred fires,

True loue I find a pleasant fume,

2495

Whose moderat heat can nere consume.

Cloe.

And I a newe fire feele in mee,

Whose base end is not quencht to be.

Clorin.

Ioyne your hands with modest touch,

And for euer keepe you such.

Enter Perigot.

Perigot.

2500

Yon is her cabin, thus far off ile stand,

And call her foorth, for my vnhallowed hand,

I dare not bring so neere yon sacred place,

Clorin come foorth and do a timely grace,

To a poore swaine,

Clorin

2505

What art thou that doest call?

Clorin is ready to do good to all.

Come neere.

Per.

I dare not. Clorin. Satyre, see

Who it is that calls on mee.

Satyre

2510

Thers a hand some swaine doth stand,

Stretching out a bloudy hand.

Per.

Come Clorin bring thy holy waters clear,

To wash my hand.

Clorin.

What wonders haue beene here

2515

To night stretch foorth thy hand young swaine,

Wash and rubbe it whylst I raine

Holy water.

Per

Still you power,

But my hand will neuer scoure.

Clorin

2520

Satire bring him to the bowre

Wee will try the soueragne power

Of other waters.

Satire

Mortall sure,

Tis the bloud of mayden pure

2525

That staines hee soe.

The Satire leadeth him to the Bower, where he spieth Amoret & kneeleth downe: shee knoweth him,

Perigot

What e're thou be.

Beest thou her spright, or some diuinitie,

That in her shape thinks good to walke this groue,

Pardon poore Perigot

Amor.

2530

I am thy loue.

Thy Amoret. for euermore thy loue:

Sticke once more on my naked brest, Ile prooue

As constant still, O canst thou loue me yet,

How soone could I my former griefes forget.

Perig.

2535

So ouer great with ioy, that you liue nowe

I am, that no desire of knowing how

doeth seaze me; hast thou still power to forgiue,

Amor.

Whil'st thou hast power to loue, or I to liue,

More welcome now then hadst thou neuer gone

2540

A stray from me.

Per.

And when thou lou'st alone

And not I, death or some lingring paine

That's worse, light on me.

Clorin.

Now your staine

2545

Perhaps will cleanse, thee once againe

See the bloud that erst did stay,

With the water drops away:

All the powers againe are pleas'd,

And with this newe knot are appeasd:

2550

Ioyne your hands, and rise together,

Pan be blest that brought you hether.

Enter Priest & olde Sheepheard.

Clorin.

Goe backe againe what ere thou art: vnlesse

Smooth maiden thoughts possesse thee, doe not presse

This hallowed ground, goe Satire take his hand,

2555

And giue him present triall.

Satire

Mortall stand.

Till by fire, I haue made knowne

Whether thou be such a one,

That mayst freely tread this place,

2560

Holde thy hand vp, neuer was,

More vntainted flesh then this,

Fairest he is fall of blisse.

Clorin.

Then boldely speake why doest thou seeke this place,

Priest.

First honourd virgin to behold thy face,

2565

Where all good dwells, that is, next for to try

The trueth of late report, was giuen to mee:

Those sheepheards that haue met with foule mischance,

Through much neglect, and more ill gouernance,

Whether the wounds they haue may yet endure

2570

The open ayre, or stay a longer cure,

And lastly what the doome may be, shall light

Vpon those guilty wretches, through whose spight

All this confusion full. For to this place,

Thou holy mayden haue I brought the race,

2575

Of these offenders, who haue freely tolde,

Both why, and by what meanes, they gaue this bold

Attempt vpon their liue.

Clorin.

Fume all the ground,

And sprinckle holy water, for vnsound

2580

And foule Infection ginnes to fill the Ayre

It gathers yet more strongly,

Of Censors fild with Franckensence and Mirr.

Together with cold Camphire, quickly stirr.

The gentle Satire, for the place beginns

2585

To sweat and labour, with the abhorred sinnes

Of those offendors, let them not come nye,

For full of itching flame and leprosie,

Their very soules are, that the ground goes backe,

And shrinks to feele the sullen waight of black

2590

And so vnheard of vennome, hye thee fast,

Thou holy man, and bannish from the chast,

These manlike monsters, let them neuer more

Be knowen vpon thes dounes, but longe before,

The next sunnes rising, put them from the sight,

2595

And memory of euery honest wight.

Be quicke in expedition, lest the sores

Of these weake patients, breake into newe gores

Exit Priest.

Per.

My deare deare Amoret, how happy are,

Those blessed paires, in whom a little iarr

2600

Hath bred an euerlasting loue, to strong

For time or steele, or enuy to do wrong,

How do you feele your hurts, a lasse poore heart

How much I was abusd, giue me the smart

For it is iustly mine.

Amo.

2605

I doe beleeue.

It is enough deare friend, leaue off to grieue,

And let vs once more in despight of ill,

Giue hands, and hearts againe

Per.

with better will,

2610

Than ere I went to finde, in hottest day

Coole Christ all of the fountaine, to allay

My eager thirst, may this band neuer breake,

Heare vs o heauen.

Amo.

Be constant.

Per.

2615

Else Pan wreake

With double vengeance, my disloyalty.

Let me not dare to knowe the company

Of men, or any more behold those eyes.

Amo.

Thus sheepheard with a kisse all enuy dies.

Enter Priest.

Priest

2620

Bright Maid, I haue perform'd your will, the swaine

In whom such heate, and blacke rebellions raigne

Hath vndergone your sentence:

Only the maide I haue reseru'd, whose face

shewes much amendment, many a teare doth fall

2625

In sorrow of her fault, great faire recall

Your heauie doome, in hope of better dayes

Which I dare promise: once again, vpraise

her heauy Spirit, that neere drowned lies

In selfe consuming care that neuer dies.

Clorin.

2630

I am content to pardon: call her in,

The ayre growes coole againe, and doth beginn

To purge it selfe, how bright the day doth showe

After this stormy cloud, goe Satire goe,

And with this taper boldly try her hand.

2635

If she be pure and good, and firmely stand

to be so still: we haue perfoormd a woorke

worthy the gods them-selues

Satire brings Amarillis in.

Satire

Come forward Maiden, do not lurke

Nor hide your face with griefe & shame,

2640

Now or neuer get a name,

That may raise thee, and recure,

All thy life that was impure,

Holde your hand vnto the flame,

If thou beest a perfect dame:

2645

Or hast truely vowd to mend,

This pale fire will be thy friend.

See the Taper hurts her not,

Goe thy waies let neuer spot,

Hencefoorth ceaze vpon thy bloode.

2650

Thanke the Gods and still be good.

Clorin.

Yonge sheepheardesse now, ye are brought againe

To virgin state, be so, and so remaine

To thy last day, vnlesse the faithfull loue

Of some good sheepeheard force thee to remoue,

2655

Then labour to be true to him, and liue

As such a one, that euer striues to giue

A blessed memory to after Time:

Be famous for your good, not for your crime.

Now holy man, I offer vp againe

2660

These patients full of health, and free from paine

Keepe them, from after ills, be euer neere

Vnto their actions: teach them how to cleare,

The tedeous way they passe though, from suspect

Keepe them from wrong in others, or neglect

2665

Of duety in them selues, correct the bloud,

With thrifty bitts and laboure, let the flood,

Or the next neghbouring spring giue remedy

To greedy thirst, and trauaile, not the tree

That hanges with wanton clusters, let not wine

2670

Vnlesse in sacrifice or rights deuine,

Be euer knowen of shepheards, haue a care,

Thou man of holy life, Now do not spare,

Their faults through much remissnes, not forget,

To cherish him, whose many paynes and sweat,

2675

Hath giuen increase, and added to the downes.

Sort all your Shepheards from the lazie clownes:

That feede their heafers in the budded Broomes,

Teach the young maydens stricknes that the grooms

May euer feare to tempt their blowing youth,

2680

Banish all complement but single truth.

From euery tongue, and euery Shepheards heart,

Let them vse perswading, but no Art:

Thus holy Priest, I wish to thee and these,

All the best goods and comforts that may please,

All.

2685

And all those blessings Heauen did euer giue,

Wee praye vpon this Bower may euer liue.

Priest.

Kneele euery Shepheard, whilst with powerful hand,

I blesse you after labours, and the Land.

You feede your flocks vpon Great Pan defend you.

2690

From misfortune and amend you,

Keepe you from those dangers still,

That are followed by your will:

Giue yee meanes to know at lenght,

All your Ritches all your strenght.

2695

Cannot keepe your foot from falling,

To lewd lust, that still is calling,

At your cottage, till his power,

Bring againe that golden howre:

Of peace and rest, to euery soule.

2700

May his care of you controle,

All diseases, sores or payne,

That in after time may raigne,

Eyther in your flocks or you,

Giue yee all affections new.

2705

New desires and tempers new,

That yee may be euer true.

Now rise and go, and as ye passe away,

Sing to the God of sheepe, that happy laye:

That honest Dorus taught yee, Dorus hee,

2710

That was the soule and God of melody. Song.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

the all sing.

All yee Woodes, and Trees, and Bowers,

All ye vertues, and yee powers:

That inhabit in the lakes,

In the pleasant springs or brakes.

2715

Moue your feete,

to our sound:

Whilst wee greete,

all this ground.

With his honour and his name.

2720

That defendes our flockes from blame.

Hee is great, and he is iust,

Hee is euer good and must:

Thus be honnerd, Daffadillyes,

Roses, Pinckes, and loued Lillyes.

2725

Let vs fling,

Whilst wee sing,

Euer holy,

Euer holy.

Euer honerd, euer young,

2730

Thus great Pan is euer sung.

Exeunt.

Satyre.

Thou deuinest, fayrest, brightest,

Thou most powerfull mayd, and whitest.

Thou most vertuous, and most blessed,

Eyes of Starrs and Golden Tressed,

2735

Like Apollo, tell me sweetest,

What new seruice now is meetest.

For thee Satyre shall I stray,

In the middle Ayre and staye,

Thy Sayling Racke or nimbly take,

2740

Hold by the Moone, and gently make.

Suite to the pale Queene of the night,

For a Beame to giue thee light,

Shall I diue into the Sea,

And bring the corrall making way,

2745

Through the rising waues that fall,

In snowy fleeces, deerest shall,

I catch the wanton fawnes, or flyes,

Whose wouen wings the Summer dyes,

For many coulours get thee fruit,

2750

Or steale from Heauen old Orpheus Lute

All these I venter for and more,

To do her seruice, all these Woods adore

Clorin.

No other Seruice Satyre but thy watch,

About these Thicks least harmlesse people catch,

2755

Mischiefe or sad mischance.

Satyre.

Holy virgin, I will daunce,

Round about these woods as quick,

As the breaking light, and pricke,

Downe the lawnes, and downe the vales,

2760

Faster then the Windmill sayles.

So I take my leaue and praye,

All the comforts of the day:

Such as Phaebus heate doth send,

On the Earth may still be friend,

2765

Thee and this Arbor.

Clorin.

And to thee,

All thy masters loue be free.

exeunt.

The Pastorall of the faithfull Shepheardesse.

FINIS.

[ EDITORIAL CASTLIST

Clorin

Satyre

Olde Shepheard

Priest

Unassigned Song

Perigot

Amoret

All

Amarillis

Sullen Shepheard

Cloe

Daphnis

Alexis

Thenot

God of the river

THE FAITHFVLL Shepheardesse

John Fletcher

THE FAITHFVLL Shepheardesse.By IOHN FLETCHER.Printed at London for R. Bonian and H. Walley, and are to be sold at the spred Eagle ouer against the great North dore of S. Paules.

Actus primi, Scena prima.

Actus secundus Scena prima.

Actus secundus Scena quarta.

Actus tertius Scena prima.

Actus Quintus. Scena. 1.

The Pastorall of the faithfull Shepheardesse.

FINIS.

THE
FAITHFVLL
Shepheardesse.

By IOHN FLETCHER.

Printed at London for R. Bonian
and H. Walley, and are to be sold at
the spred Eagle ouer against the
great North dore of S. Paules.