The Faithful Shepherdess | Page 5

for my bend,
I must have
quicker Souls, whose works may tend
To some free action: give me
him dare love
At first encounter, and as soon dare prove.
The SONG.
_Come Shepherds, come,
Come away without delay
Whilst the
gentle time dot[h] stay.
Green Woods are dumb,
And will never tell
to any
Those dear Kisses, and those many
Sweet Embraces that are
given
Dainty Pleasures that would even
Raise in coldest Age a fire,

And give Virgin Blood desire,
Then if ever,
Now or never,
Come and have it,
Think not I,

Dare deny,
If you crave it._
Enter Daphnis.
Here comes another: better be my speed,
Thou god of Blood: but
certain, if I read
Not false, this is that modest Shepherd, he
That
only dare salute, but ne'r could be
Brought to kiss any, hold discourse,
or sing,
Whisper, or boldly ask that wished thing
We all are born
for; one that makes loving Faces,
And could be well content to covet
Graces,
Were they not got by boldness; in this thing
My hopes are
frozen; and but Fate doth bring
Him hither, I would sooner chuse
A
Man made out of Snow, and freer use
An Eunuch to my ends: but
since he's here,
Thus I attempt him. Thou of men most dear,

Welcome to her, that only for thy sake,
Hath been content to live:
here boldly take

My hand in pledg, this hand, that never yet
Was
given away to any: and but sit
Down on this rushy Bank, whilst I go

pull
Fresh Blossoms from the Boughs, or quickly cull
The choicest
delicates from yonder Mead,
To make thee Chains, or Chaplets, or to
spread
Under our fainting Bodies, when delight
Shall lock up all
our senses. How the sight
Of those smooth rising Cheeks renew the
story
Of young Adonis, when in Pride and Glory
He lay infolded
'twixt the beating arms
Of willing Venus: methinks stronger Charms

Dwell in those speaking eyes, and on that brow
More sweetness
than the Painters can allow
To their best pieces: not Narcissus, he

That wept himself away in memorie
Of his own Beauty, nor Silvanus
Boy,
Nor the twice ravish'd Maid, for whom old Troy
Fell by the
hand of Pirrhus, may to thee
Be otherwise compar'd, than some dead
Tree
To a young fruitful Olive.
Daph. I can love,
But I am loth to say so, lest I prove
Too soon
unhappy.
Clo. Happy thou would'st say,
My dearest Daphnis, blush not, if the
day
To thee and thy soft heats be enemie,
Then take the coming
Night, fair youth 'tis free
To all the World, Shepherd, I'll meet thee
then
When darkness hath shut up the eyes of men,
In yonder Grove:
speak, shall our Meeting hold?
Indeed you are too bashful, be more
bold,
And tell me I.
Daph. I'm content to say so,
And would be glad to meet, might I but
pray so
Much from your Fairness, that you would be true.
Clo. Shepherd, thou hast thy Wish.
Daph. Fresh Maid, adieu:

Yet one word more, since you have drawn
me on
To come this Night, fear not to meet alone
That man that
will not offer to be ill,
Though your bright self would ask it, for his
fill
Of this Worlds goodness: do not fear him then,
But keep your
'pointed time; let other men
Set up their Bloods to sale, mine shall be
ever
Fair as the Soul it carries, and unchast never. [Exit.

Clo. Yet am I poorer than I was before.
Is it not strange, among so
many a score
Of lusty Bloods, I should pick out these things
Whose
Veins like a dull River far from Springs,
Is still the same, slow, heavy,
and unfit
For stream or motion, though the strong winds hit
With
their continual power upon his sides?
O happy be your names that
have been brides,
And tasted those rare sweets for which I pine:

And far more heavy be thy grief and time,
Thou lazie swain, that
maist relieve my needs,
Than his, upon whose liver alwayes feeds

A hungry vultur.
Enter Alexis.
Ale. Can such beauty be
Safe in his own guard, and not draw the eye

Of him that passeth on, to greedy gaze,
Or covetous desire, whilst
in a maze
The better part contemplates, giving rein
And wished
freedom to the labouring vein?
Fairest and whitest, may I crave to
know
The cause of your retirement, why ye goe
Thus all alone?
methinks the downs are sweeter,
And the young company of swains
far meeter,
Than those forsaken and untroden places.
Give not your
self to loneness, and those graces
Hid from the eyes of men, that were
intended
To live amongst us swains.
Cloe. Thou art befriended,
Shepherd, in all my life I have not seen

A man in whom greater contents have been
Than thou thy self art: I
could tell thee more,
Were there but any hope left to restore
My
freedom lost. O lend me all thy red,
Thou shamefast morning, when
from Tithons bed
Thou risest ever maiden.
Alex. If for me,
Thou sweetest of all sweets, these flashes be,
Speak
and be satisfied. O guide her tongue,
My better angel; force my name
among

Her modest thoughts, that the first word may be--
Cloe._ _Alexis, when the sun shall kiss the Sea,
Taking his rest by the
white Thetis side,
Meet