The Faithful Shepherdess | Page 3

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,?Not caring for the Pipe or Whistle: this man may?(If he be well wrought) do a deed of wonder,?Forcing me passage to my long desires:?And here he comes, as fitly to my purpose,?As my quick thoughts could wish for.
Enter Shepherd.
Shep. Fresh Beauty,