The Faithful Shepherdess | Page 3

flames that burn before the
shrine
Of the great Dian: only my intent
To draw you thither, was
to plight our troths,
With enterchange of mutual chaste embraces,

And ceremonious tying of our selves:
For to that holy wood is
consecrate
A vertuous well, about whose flowry banks,
The
nimble-footed Fairies dance their rounds,
By the pale moon-shine,

dipping oftentimes
Their stolen Children, so to make them free

From dying flesh, and dull mortalitie;
By this fair Fount hath many a
Shepherd sworn,
And given away his freedom, many a troth
Been
plight, which neither envy, nor old time
Could ever break, with many
a chaste kiss given,
In hope of coming happiness; by this
Fresh
Fountain many a blushing Maid
Hath crown'd the head of her long
loved Shepherd
With gaudy flowers, whilest he happy sung
Layes
of his love and dear Captivitie;
There grows all Herbs fit to cool
looser flames
Our sensual parts provoke, chiding our bloods,
And
quenching by their power those hidden sparks
That else would break
out, and provoke our sense
To open fires, so vertuous is that place:

Then gentle Shepherdess, believe and grant,
In troth it fits not with
that face to scant
Your faithful Shepherd of those chaste desires
He
ever aim'd at, and--
Amo. Thou hast prevail'd, farewel, this coming night
Shall crown thy
chast hopes with long wish'd delight.
Peri_. Our great god _Pan reward thee for that good
Thou hast given
thy poor Shepherd: fairest Bud
Of Maiden Vertues, when I leave to
be
The true Admirer of thy Chastitie,
Let me deserve the hot
polluted Name
Of the wild Woodman, or affect: some Dame,

Whose often Prostitution hath begot
More foul Diseases, than ever
yet the hot
Sun bred through his burnings, whilst the Dog
Pursues
the raging Lion, throwing Fog,
And deadly Vapour from his angry
Breath,
Filling the lower World with Plague and Death. [Ex. Am.
Enter Amaryllis.
Ama. Shepherd, may I desire to be believ'd,
What I shall blushing
tell?
Peri. Fair Maid, you may.
Am_. Then softly thus, I love thee, _Perigot,

And would be gladder to

be lov'd again,
Than the cold Earth is in his frozen arms
To clip the
wanton Spring: nay do not start,
Nor wonder that I woo thee, thou
that art
The prime of our young Grooms, even the top
Of all our
lusty Shepherds! what dull eye
That never was acquainted with desire,

Hath seen thee wrastle, run, or cast the Stone
With nimble strength
and fair delivery,
And hath not sparkled fire, and speedily
Sent
secret heat to all the neighbouring Veins?
Who ever heard thee sing,
that brought again
That freedom back, was lent unto thy Voice;

Then do not blame me (Shepherd) if I be
One to be numbred in this
Companie,
Since none that ever saw thee yet, were free.
Peri. Fair Shepherdess, much pity I can lend
To your Complaints: but
sure I shall not love:
All that is mine, my self, and my best hopes

Are given already; do not love him then
That cannot love again: on
other men
Bestow those heats more free, that may return
You fire
for fire, and in one flame equal burn.
Ama. Shall I rewarded be so slenderly
For my affection, most unkind
of men!
If I were old, or had agreed with Art
To give another
Nature to my Cheeks,
Or were I common Mistress to the love
Of
every Swain, or could I with such ease
Call back my Love, as many a
Wanton doth;
Thou might'st refuse me, Shepherd; but to thee
I am
only fixt and set, let it not be
A Sport, thou gentle Shepherd to abuse

The love of silly Maid.
Peri. Fair Soul, ye use
These words to little end: for know, I may

Better call back that time was Yesterday,
Or stay the coming Night,
than bring my Love
Home to my self again, or recreant prove.
I will
no longer hold you with delays,
This present night I have appointed
been
To meet that chaste Fair (that enjoys my Soul)

In yonder
Grove, there to make up our Loves.
Be not deceiv'd no longer, chuse
again,
These neighbouring Plains have many a comely Swain,

Fresher, and freer far than I e'r was,
Bestow that love on them, and let
me pass.
Farewel, be happy in a better Choice. [Exit.

Ama. Cruel, thou hast struck me deader with thy Voice
Than if the
angry Heavens with their quick flames
Had shot me through: I must
not leave to love,
I cannot, no I must enjoy thee, Boy,
Though the
great dangers 'twixt my hopes and that
Be infinite: there is a
Shepherd dwells
Down by the Moor, whose life hath ever shown

More sullen Discontent than Saturns Brow,
When he sits frowning on
the Births of Men:
One that doth wear himself away in loneness;

And never joys unless it be in breaking
The holy plighted troths of
mutual Souls:
One that lusts after [every] several Beauty,
But never
yet was known to love or like,
Were the face fairer, or more full of
truth,
Than Phoebe in her fulness, or the youth
Of smooth Lyaeus;
whose nigh starved flocks
Are always scabby, and infect all Sheep

They feed withal; whose Lambs are ever last,
And dye before their
waining, and whose Dog
Looks like his Master, lean, and full of scurf,

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