The Faithful Shepherdess Part 6

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

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

Give me your help for his sake you love best.

_Clor._ Shepherd, thou canst not possibly take rest, Till thou hast laid aside all hearts desires Provoking thought that stir up l.u.s.ty fires, Commerce with wanton eyes, strong blood, and will To execute, these must be purg'd, untill The vein grow whiter; then repent, and pray Great _Pan_ to keep you from the like decay, And I shall undertake your cure with ease.

Till when this vertuous Plaster will displease Your tender sides; give me your hand and rise: Help him a little _Satyr_, for his thighs Yet are feeble.

_Alex._ Sure I have lost much blood.

_Satyr._ 'Tis no matter, 'twas not good.

Mortal you must leave your wooing, Though there be a joy in doing, Yet it brings much grief behind it, They best feel it, that do find it.

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

_Satyr._ Shepherd, see what comes of kissing, By my head 'twere better missing.

Brightest, if there be remaining Any service, without feigning I will do it; were I set To catch the nimble wind, or get Shadows gliding on the green, Or to steal from the great Queen Of _Fayries_, all her beauty, I would do it, so much duty Do I owe those precious Eyes.

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

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

_Clo_. Friend farewel. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ Amoret, _seeking her Love_.

_Amor_. This place is Ominous, for here I lost My Love and almost life, and since have crost All these Woods over, never a Nook or Dell, Where any little Bird, or Beast doth dwell, But I have sought him, never a bending brow Of any Hill or Glade, the wind sings through, Nor a green bank, nor shade where Shepherds use To sit and Riddle, sweetly pipe, or chuse Their Valentines, that I have mist, to find My love in. _Perigot_, Oh too unkind, Why hast thou fled me? whither art thou gone?

How have I wrong'd thee? was my love alone To thee worthy this scorn'd recompence? 'tis well, I am content to feel it: but I tell Thee Shepherd, and these l.u.s.ty woods shall hear, Forsaken _Amoret_ is yet as clear Of any stranger fire, as Heaven is From foul corruption, or the deep Abysse From light and happiness; and thou mayst know All this for truth, and how that fatal blow Thou gav'st me, never from desert of mine, Fell on my life, but from suspect of thine, Or fury more than madness; therefore, here, Since I have lost my life, my love, my dear, Upon this cursed place, and on this green, That first divorc'd us, shortly shall be seen A sight of so great pity, that each eye Shall dayly spend his spring in memory Of my untimely fall.

_Enter_ Amaryllis.

_Amar_. I am not blind, Nor is it through the working of my mind, That this shows _Amoret_; forsake me all That dwell upon the soul, but what men call Wonder, or more than wonder, miracle, For sure so strange as this the Oracle Never gave answer of, it pa.s.seth dreams, Or mad-mens fancy, when the many streams Of new imaginations rise and fall: 'Tis but an hour since these Ears heard her call For pity to young _Perigot_; whilest he, Directed by his fury bloodily Lanc't up her brest, which bloodless fell and cold; And if belief may credit what was told, After all this, the Melancholy Swain Took her into his arms being almost slain, And to the bottom of the holy well Flung her, for ever with the waves to dwell.

'Tis she, the very same, 'tis _Amoret_, And living yet, the great powers will not let Their vertuous love be crost. Maid, wipe away Those heavy drops of sorrow, and allay The storm that yet goes high, which not deprest, Breaks heart and life, and all before it rest: Thy _Perigot_--

_Amor_. Where, which is _Perigot?_

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

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

_Enter_ Sullen.

_Sull_. Stay _Amaryllis_, stay, Ye are too fleet, 'tis two hours yet to day.

I have perform'd my promise, let us sit And warm our bloods together till the fit Come lively on us.

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

_Sull_. I can stay no longer.

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

_Sull_. I have done it Maid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Enter_ Perigot.

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

_Enter_ Amoret _looking for_ Perigot.

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

_Per_. What art thou [dare]

Tread these forbidden paths, where death and care Dwell on the face of darkness?

_Amo_. 'Tis thy friend, Thy _Amoret_, come hither to give end To these consumings; look up gentle Boy, I have forgot those Pains and dear annoy I suffer'd for thy sake, and am content To be thy love again; why hast thou rent Those curled locks, where I have often hung Riband and Damask-roses, and have flung Waters distil'd to make thee fresh and gay, Sweeter than the Nosegayes on a Bridal day?

Why dost thou cross thine Arms, and hang thy face Down to thy bosom, letting fall apace From those two little Heavens upon the ground Showers of more price, more Orient, and more round Than those that hang upon the Moons pale brow?

Cease these complainings, Shepherd, I am now The same I ever was, as kind and free, And can forgive before you ask of me.

Indeed I can and will.

_Per_. So spoke my fair.

O you great working powers of Earth and Air, Water and forming fire, why have you lent Your hidden vertues of so ill intent?

Even such a face, so fair, so bright of hue Had _Amoret_; such words so smooth and new, Came flying from her tongue; such was her eye, And such the pointed sparkle that did flye Forth like a bleeding shaft; all is the same, The Robe and Buskins, painted Hook, and frame Of all her Body. O me, _Amoret_!

_Amo_. Shepherd, what means this Riddle? who hath set So strong a difference 'twixt my self and me That I am grown another? look and see The Ring thou gav'st me, and about my wrist That curious Bracelet thou thy self didst twist From those fair Tresses: knowst thou _Amoret_?

Hath not some newer love forc'd thee forget Thy Ancient faith?

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

_Amo_. Am I not _Amaret_? where was I lost?

Can there be Heaven, and time, and men, and most Of these unconstant? Faith where art thou fled?

Are all the vows and protestations dead, The hands [held] up, the wishes, and the heart, Is there not one remaining, not a part Of all these to be found? why then I see Men never knew that vertue Constancie.

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

_Amo_. 'Tis but to prevent Their speedy coming on that seek her fall, The hands of cruel men, more b.e.s.t.i.a.l, And of a nature more refusing good Than Beasts themselves, or Fishes of the Flood.

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