The Faithful Shepherdess

Satyr. See the day begins to break,And the light shoots like a streakOf subtil fire, the wind blows cold,Whilst the morning doth unfold;Now the Birds begin to rouse,And the Squirril from the boughsLeaps to get him Nuts and fruit;The early Lark that erst was mute,Carrols to the rising dayMany a note and many a lay:Therefore here I end my watch,Lest the wandring swain should catchHarm, or lose himself.Amo. Ah me!Satyr. Speak again what e're thou be,I am ready, speak I say:By the dawning of the day,By the power of night and Pan,I inforce thee speak again.Amo. O I am most unhappy.Satyr. Yet more blood!Sure these wanton Swains are wode.Can there be a hand or heartDare commit so vile a partAs this Murther? By the MoonThat hid her self when this was done,Never was a sweeter face:I will bear her to the placeWhere my Goddess keeps; and craveHer to give her life, or grave. [Exeunt.

Enter Clorin.

Clor. Here whilst one patient takes his rest secureI steal abroad to doe another Cure.Pardon thou buryed body of my love,That from thy side I dare so soon remove,I will not prove unconstant, nor will leaveThee for an hour alone. When I deceiveMy first made vow, the wildest of the woodTear me, and o're thy Grave let out my blood;I goe by wit to cure a lovers painWhich no herb can; being done, I'le come again. [Exit.

Enter Thenot.

The. Poor Shepherd in this shade for ever lye,And seeing thy fair Clorins Cabin, dye:0 hapless love, which [being] answer'd, ends;And as a little infant cryes and bendsHis tender Brows, when rowling of his eyeHe hath espy'd some thing that glisters nighWhich he would have, yet give it him, awayHe throws it straight, and cryes afresh to playWith something else: such my affection, setOn that which I should loath, if I could get.

Enter Clorin.

Clor. See where he lyes; did ever man but heLove any woman for her ConstancieTo her dead lover, which she needs must endBefore she can allow him for her friend,And he himself must needs the cause destroy,For which he loves, before he can enjoy?Poor Shepherd, Heaven grant I at once may freeThee from thy pain, and keep my loyaltie:Shepherd, look up.The. Thy brightness doth amaze!So Phoebus may at noon bid mortals gaze,Thy glorious constancie appears so bright,I dare not meet the Beams with my weak sight.Clor. Why dost thou pine away thy self for me?The. Why dost thou keep such spotless constancie?Clor. Thou holy Shepherd, see what for thy sake Clorin, thy Clorin, now dare under take. [He starts up.The. Stay there, thou constant Clorin, if there beYet any part of woman left in thee,To make thee light: think yet before thou speak.Clor. See what a holy vow for thee I break.I that already have my fame far spreadFor being constant to my lover dead.The. Think yet, dear Clorin, of your love, how true,If you had dyed, he would have been to you.Clor. Yet all I'le lose for thee.The. Think but how blestA constant woman is above the rest.Clor. And offer up my self, here on this ground,To be dispos'd by thee.The. Why dost thou woundHis heart with malice, against woman more,That hated all the Sex, but thee before?How much more pleasant had it been to meTo dye, than to behold this change in thee?Yet, yet, return, let not the woman sway.Clor. Insult not on her now, nor use delay,Who for thy sake hath ventur'd all her fame.The. Thou hast not ventur'd, but bought certain shame,Your Sexes curse, foul falshood must and shall,I see, once in your lives, light on you all.I hate thee now: yet turn.Clor. Be just to me:Shall I at once both lose my fame and thee?The. Thou hadst no fame, that which thou didst like good,Was but thy appetite that sway'd thy bloodFor that time to the best: for as a blastThat through a house comes, usually doth castThings out of order, yet by chance may come,And blow some one thing to his proper room;So did thy appetite, and not thy zeal,Sway thee [by] chance to doe some one thing well.Yet turn.Clor. Thou dost but try me if I wouldForsake thy dear imbraces, for my oldLove's, though he were alive: but do not fear.The. I do contemn thee now, and dare come near,And gaze upon thee; for me thinks that grace,Austeritie, which sate upon that faceIs gone, and thou like others: false maid see,This is the gain of foul inconstancie. [Exit.Clor. 'Tis done, great Pan I give thee thanks for it,What art could not have heal'd, is cur'd by wit.

Enter Thenot, again.

The. Will ye be constant yet? will ye removeInto the Cabin to your buried Love?Clor. No let me die, but by thy side remain.The. There's none shall know that thou didst ever stainThy worthy strictness, but shall honour'd be,And I will lye again under this tree,And pine and dye for thee with more delight,Than I have sorrow now to know the light.Clor. Let me have thee, and I'le be where thou wilt.The. Thou art of womens race, and full of guilt.Farewel all hope of that Sex, whilst I thoughtThere was one good, I fear'd to find one naught:But since their minds I all alike espie,Henceforth I'le choose as others, by mine eye.Clor. Blest be ye powers that give such quick redress,And for my labours sent so good success.I rather choose, though I a woman be,He should speak ill of all, than die for me.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima

Enter Priest, and old Shepherd.

Priest. Shepherds, rise and shake off sleep,See the blushing Morn doth peepThrough the window, whilst the SunTo the mountain tops is run,Gilding all the Vales belowWith his rising flames, which growGreater by his climbing still.Up ye lazie grooms, and fillBagg and Bottle for the field;Clasp your cloaks fast, lest they yieldTo the bitter North-east wind.Call the Maidens up, and findWho lay longest, that she mayGoe without a friend all day;Then reward your Dogs, and prayPan to keep you from decay:So unfold and then away.What not a Shepherd stirring? sure the groomsHave found their beds too easie, or the roomsFill'd with such new delight, and heat, that theyHave both forgot their hungry sheep, and day;Knock, that they may remember what a shameSloath and neglect layes on a Shepherds name.Old Shep. It is to little purpose, not a swainThis night hath known his lodging here, or lainWithin these cotes: the woods, or some near town,That is a neighbour to the bordering Down,Hath drawn them thither, 'bout some lustie sport,Or spiced Wassel-Boul, to which resortAll the young men and maids of many a cote,Whilst the trim Minstrel strikes his merry note.Priest. God pardon sin, show me the way that leadsTo any of their haunts.Old Shep. This to the meads,And that down to the woods.Priest. Then this for me;Come Shepherd let me crave your companie. [Exeunt.

Enter Clorin, in her Cabin, Alexis, with her.

Clor. Now your thoughts are almost pure,And your wound begins to cure:Strive to banish all that's vain,Lest it should break out again.Alex. Eternal thanks to thee, thou holy maid:I find my former wandring thoughts well staidThrough thy wise precepts, and my outward painBy thy choice herbs is almost gone again:Thy sexes vice and vertue are reveal'dAt once, for what one hurt, another heal'd.Clor. May thy grief more appease,Relapses are the worst disease.Take heed how you in thought offend,So mind and body both will mend.

Enter Satyr, with Amoret.

Amo. Beest thou the wildest creature of the wood,That bearst me thus away, drown'd in my blood,And dying, know I cannot injur'd be,I am a maid, let that name fight for me.Satyr. Fairest Virgin do not fearMe, that do thy body bear,Not to hurt, but heal'd to be;Men are ruder far than we.See fair Goddess in the wood,They have let out yet more blood.Some savage man hath struck her breastSo soft and white, that no wild beastDurst ha' toucht asleep, or wake:So sweet, that Adder, Newte, or Snake,Would have lain from arm to arm,On her bosom to be warmAll a night, and being hot,Gone away and stung her not.Quickly clap herbs to her breast;A man sure is a kind of beast.Clor. With spotless hand, on spotless brestI put these herbs to give thee rest:Which till it heal thee, will abide,If both be pure, if not, off slide.See it falls off from the wound,Shepherdess thou art not sound,Full of lust.Satyr, Who would have thought it,So fair a face?Clor. Why that hath brought it.Amo. For ought I know or think, these words, my last:Yet Pan so help me as my thoughts are chast.Clor. And so may Pan bless this my cure,As all my thoughts are just and pure;Some uncleanness nigh doth lurk,That will not let my Medicines work.Satyr search if thou canst find it.Satyr. Here away methinks I wind it,Stronger yet: Oh here they be,Here, here, in a hollow tree,Two fond mortals have I found.Clor. Bring them out, they are unsound.

Enter Cloe, and Daphnis.

Satyr. By the fingers thus I wring ye,To my Goddess thus I bring ye;Strife is vain, come gently in,I scented them, they're full of sin.Clor. Hold Satyr, take this Glass,Sprinkle over all the place,Purge the Air from lustfull breath,To save this Shepherdess from death,And stand you still whilst I do dressHer wound for fear the pain encrease.Sat. From this glass I throw a dropOf Crystal water on the topOf every grass, on flowers a pair:Send a fume and keep the airPure and wholsom, sweet and blest,Till this Virgins wound be drest.Clor. Satyr, help to bring her in.Sat. By Pan, I think she hath no sin,She is so light: lye on these leaves.Sleep that mortal sense deceives,Crown thine Eyes, and ease thy pain,Maist thou soon be well again.Clor. Satyr, bring the Shepherd near,Try him if his mind be clear.Sat. Shepherd come.Daph. My thoughts are pure.Sat. The better trial to endure.Clor. In this flame his finger thrust,Which will burn him if he lust;But if not, away will turn,As loth unspotted flesh to burn:See, it gives back, let him go,Farewel mortal, keep thee so.Sat. Stay fair Nymph, flye not so fast,We must try if you be chaste:Here's a hand that quakes for fear,Sure she will not prove so clear.Clor. Hold her finger to the flame,That will yield her praise or shame.Sat. To her doom she dares not stand,But plucks away her tender hand,And the Taper darting sendsHis hot beams at her fingers ends:O thou art foul within, and hastA mind, if nothing else, unchaste.Alex. Is not that Cloe? 'tis my Love, 'tis she! Cloe, fair Cloe.Clo. My Alexis.Alex. He.Clo. Let me embrace thee.Clor. Take her hence,Lest her sight disturb his sence.Alex. Take not her, take my life first.Clor. See, his wound again is burst:Keep her near, here in the Wood,Till I ha' stopt these Streams of Blood.Soon again he ease shall find,If I can but still his mind:This Curtain thus I do display,To keep the piercing air away.

Enter old Shepherd, and Priest.

Priest. Sure they are lost for ever; 'tis in vainTo find 'em out with trouble and much pain,That have a ripe desire, and forward willTo flye the Company of all but ill,What shall be counsel'd now? shall we retire?Or constant follow still that first desireWe had to find them?Old. Stay a little while;For if the Morning mist do not beguileMy sight with shadows, sure I see a Swain;One of this jolly Troop's come back again.

Enter Thenot.

Pri. Dost thou not blush young Shepherd to be known,Thus without care, leaving thy flocks alone,And following what desire and present bloodShapes out before thy burning sense, for good,Having forgot what tongue hereafter mayTell to the World thy falling off, and sayThou art regardless both of good and shame,Spurning at Vertue, and a vertuous Name,And like a glorious, desperate man that buysA poyson of much price, by which he dies,Dost thou lay out for Lust, whose only gainIs foul disease, with present age and pain,And then a Grave? These be the fruits that growIn such hot Veins that only beat to knowWhere they may take most ease, and grow ambitiousThrough their own wanton fire, and pride delicious.The. Right holy Sir, I have not known this night,What the smooth face of Mirth was, or the sightOf any looseness; musick, joy, and ease,Have been to me as bitter drugs to pleaseA Stomach lost with weakness, not a gameThat I am skill'd at throughly; nor a Dame,Went her tongue smoother than the feet of Time,Her beauty ever living like the RimeOur blessed Tityrus did sing of yore,No, were she more enticing than the storeOf fruitful Summer, when the loaden TreeBids the faint Traveller be bold and free,'Twere but to me like thunder 'gainst the bay,Whose lightning may enclose but never stayUpon his charmed branches; such am IAgainst the catching flames of Womans eye.Priest. Then wherefore hast thou wandred?The. 'Twas a VowThat drew me out last night, which I have nowStrictly perform'd, and homewards go to giveFresh pasture to my Sheep, that they may live.Pri. 'Tis good to hear ye, Shepherd, if the heartIn this well sounding Musick bear his part.Where have you left the rest?The. I have not seen,Since yesternight we met upon this greenTo fold our Flocks up, any of that train;Yet have I walkt these Woods round, and have lainAll this same night under an aged Tree,Yet neither wandring Shepherd did I see,Or Shepherdess, or drew into mine earThe sound of living thing, unless it wereThe Nightingale among the thick leav'd springThat sits alone in sorrow, and doth singWhole nights away in mourning, or the Owl,Or our great enemy that still doth howlAgainst the Moons cold beams.Priest. Go and beware Of after falling.The. Father 'tis my care. [Exit Thenot.

Enter Daphnis.

Old. Here comes another Stragler, sure I seeA Shame in this young Shepherd. Daphnis!Daph. He.Pri. Where hast thou left the rest, that should have beenLong before this, grazing upon the greenTheir yet imprison'd flocks?Daph. Thou holy man,Give me a little breathing till I canBe able to unfold what I have seen;Such horrour that the like hath never beenKnown to the ear of Shepherd: Oh my heartLabours a double motion to impartSo heavy tidings! You all know the BowerWhere the chast Clorin lives, by whose great powerSick men and Cattel have been often cur'd,There lovely Amoret that was assur'dTo lusty Perigot, bleeds out her life,Forc'd by some Iron hand and fatal knife;And by her young Alexis.

Enter Amaryllis running from her Sullen Shepherd.

Amar. If there beEver a Neighbour Brook, or hollow tree,Receive my Body, close me up from lustThat follows at my heels; be ever just,Thou god of Shepherds, Pan, for her dear sakeThat loves the Rivers brinks, and still doth shakeIn cold remembrance of thy quick pursuit:Let me be made a reed, and ever mute,Nod to the waters fall, whilst every blastSings through my slender leaves that I was chast.Pri. This is a night of wonder, AmaryllBe comforted, the holy gods are stillRevengers of these wrongs.Amar. Thou blessed man,Honour'd upon these plains, and lov'd of Pan,Hear me, and save from endless infamieMy yet unblasted Flower, Virginitie:By all the Garlands that have crown'd that head,By the chaste office, and the Marriage bedThat still is blest by thee, by all the rightsDue to our gods; and by those Virgin lightsThat burn before his Altar, let me notFall from my former state to gain the blotThat never shall be purg'd: I am not nowThat wanton Amaryllis: here I vowTo Heaven, and thee grave Father, if I may'Scape this unhappy Night, to know the Day,To live a Virgin, never to endureThe tongues, or Company of men impure.I hear him come, save me.Pri. Retire a while Behind this Bush, till we have known that vileAbuser of young Maidens.

Enter Sullen.

Sul. Stay thy pace,Most loved Amaryllis, let the ChaseGrow calm and milder, flye me not so fast,I fear the pointed Brambles have unlac'dThy golden Buskins; turn again and seeThy Shepherd follow, that is strong and free,Able to give thee all content and ease.I am not bashful, Virgin, I can pleaseAt first encounter, hug thee in mine arm,And give thee many Kisses, soft and warmAs those the Sun prints on the smiling CheekOf Plums, or mellow Peaches; I am sleekAnd smooth as Neptune, when stern EolusLocks up his surly Winds, and nimbly thusCan shew my active Youth; why dost thou flye?Remember Amaryllis, it was IThat kill'd Alexis for thy sake, and setAn everlasting hate 'twixt AmoretAnd her beloved Perigot: 'twas IThat drown'd her in the Well, where she must lyeTill Time shall leave to be; then turn again,Turn with thy open arms, and clip the SwainThat hath perform'd all this, turn, turn I say:I must not be deluded.Pri. Monster stay,Thou that art like a Canker to the StateThou liv'st and breath'st in, eating with debateThrough every honest bosome, forcing stillThe Veins of any that may serve thy Will,Thou that hast offer'd with a sinful handTo seize upon this Virgin that doth standYet trembling here.Sull. Good holiness declare,What had the danger been, if being bareI had embrac'd her, tell me by your Art,What coming wonders would that sight impart?Pri. Lust, and a branded Soul.Sull. Yet tell me more,Hath not our Mother Nature for her storeAnd great encrease, said it is good and just,And wills that every living Creature mustBeget his like?Pri. Ye are better read than I,I must confess, in blood and Lechery.Now to the Bower, and bring this Beast along,Where he may suffer Penance for his wrong. [Exeunt.

Enter Perigot with his hands bloody.

Per. Here will I wash it in this mornings dew,Which she on every little grass doth strewIn silver drops against the Sun's appear:'Tis holy water, and will make me clear.My hands will not be cleans'd. My wronged Love,If thy chaste spirit in the air yet move,Look mildly down on him that yet doth standAll full of guilt, thy blood upon his hand,And though I struck thee undeservedly,Let my revenge on her that injur'd theeMake less a fault which I intended not,And let these dew drops wash away my spot.It will not cleanse. O to what sacred FloodShall I resort to wash away this blood?Amid'st these Trees the holy Clorin dwellsIn a low Cabin of cut Boughs, and healsAll Wounds; to her I will my self address,And my rash faults repentantly confess;Perhaps she'll find a means by Art or Prayer,To make my hand with chaste blood stained, fair:That done, not far hence underneath some Tree,I'll have a little Cabin built, since sheWhom I ador'd is dead, there will I giveMy self to strictness, and like Clorin live. [Exit.

The Curtain is drawn, Clorin appears sitting in the Cabin, Amoret sitting on the one side of her, Alexis and Cloe on the other, the Satyr standing by.

Clo. Shepherd, once more your blood is staid,Take example by this Maid,Who is heal'd ere you be pure,So hard it is lewd lust to cure.Take heed then how you turn your eyeOn each other lustfully:And Shepherdess take heed lest youMove his willing eye thereto;Let no wring, nor pinch, nor smileOf yours his weaker sense beguile.Is your Love yet true and chaste,And for ever so to last?Alex. I have forgot all vain desires,All looser thoughts, ill tempred fires,True Love I find a pleasant fume,Whose moderate heat can ne'r consume.Clo. And I a new fire feel in me,Whose chaste flame is not quencht to be.Clor. Join your hands with modest touch,And for ever keep you such.

Enter Perigot.

Per. Yon is her Cabin, thus far off I'll stand,And call her forth; for my unhallowed handI dare not bring so near yon sacred place.Clorin come forth, and do a timely graceTo a poor Swain.Clo. What art thou that dost call?Clorin is ready to do good to all:Come near.Peri. I dare not.Clor. Satyr, seeWho it is that calls on me.Sat. There at hand, some Swain doth stand,Stretching out a bloudy hand.Peri. Come Clorin, bring thy holy waters clear,To wash my hand.Clo. What wonders have been hereTo night? stretch forth thy hand young Swain,Wash and rub it whilest I rainHoly water.Peri. Still you pour,But my hand will never scower.Clor. Satyr, bring him to the Bower,We will try the Soveraign powerOf other waters.Satyr. Mortal, sure 'Tis the Blood of Maiden pureThat stains thee so.

[The Satyr leadeth him to the Bower, where he spieth Amoret, and kneeling down, she knoweth him.

Peri. What e're thou be,Be'st thou her spright, or some divinitie,That in her shape thinks good to walk this grove,Pardon poor Perigot.Amor. I am thy love,Thy Amoret, for evermore thy love:Strike once more on my naked breast, I'le proveAs constant still. O couldst thou love me yet;How soon should I my former griefs forget!Peri. So over-great with joy, that you live, nowI am, that no desire of knowing howDoth seize me; hast thou still power to forgive?Amo. Whilest thou hast power to love, or I to live;More welcome now than hadst thou never goneAstray from me.Peri. And when thou lov'st aloneAnd not I, death, or some lingring painThat's worse, light on me.Clor. Now your stainThis perhaps will cleanse again;See the blood that erst did stay,With the water drops away.All the powers again are pleas'd,And with this new knot appeas'd.Joyn your hands, and rise together,Pan be blest that brought you hither.

Enter Priest, and Old Shephe[rd].

Clor. Go back again what ere thou art, unlessSmooth Maiden thoughts possess thee, do not pressThis hallowed ground. Go Satyr, take his hand,And give him present trial.Satyr. Mortal stand,Till by fire I have made knownWhether thou be such a one,That mayst freely tread this place.Hold thy hand up; never wasMore untainted flesh than this.Fairest, he is full of bliss.Clor. Then boldly speak, why dost thou seek this place?Priest. First, honour'd Virgin, to behold thy faceWhere all good dwells that is: Next for to tryThe truth of late report was given to me:Those Shepherds that have met with foul mischance,Through much neglect, and more ill governance,Whether the wounds they have may yet endureThe open Air, or stay a longer cure.And lastly, what the doom may be shall lightUpon those guilty wretches, through whose spightAll this confusion fell: For to this place,Thou holy Maiden, have I brought the raceOf these offenders, who have freely told,Both why, and by what means they gave this boldAttempt upon their lives.Clor. Fume all the ground,And sprinkle holy water, for unsoundAnd foul infection 'gins to fill the Air:It gathers yet more strongly; take a pairOf Censors fill'd with Frankincense and Mirrh,Together with cold Camphyre: quickly stirThee, gentle Satyr, for the place beginsTo sweat and labour with the abhorred sinsOf those offenders; let them not come nigh,For full of itching flame and leprosieTheir very souls are, that the ground goes back,And shrinks to feel the sullen weight of blackAnd so unheard of venome; hie thee fastThou holy man, and banish from the chastThese manlike monsters, let them never moreBe known upon these downs, but long beforeThe next Suns rising, put them from the sightAnd memory of every honest wight.Be quick in expedition, lest the soresOf these weak Patients break into new gores. [Ex. Priest.Per. My dear, dear Amoret, how happy areThose blessed pairs, in whom a little jarHath bred an everlasting love, too strongFor time, or steel, or envy to do wrong?How do you feel your hurts? Alas poor heart,How much I was abus'd; give me the smartFor it is justly mine.Amo. I do believe.It is enough dear friend, leave off to grieve,And let us once more in despight of illGive hands and hearts again.Per. With better willThan e're I went to find in hottest dayCool Crystal of the Fountain, to allayMy eager thirst: may this band never break.Hear us O Heaven.Amo. Be constant.Per. Else Pan wreak,With [d]ouble vengeance, my disloyalty;Let me not dare to know the companyOf men, or any more behold those eyes.Amo. Thus Shepherd with a kiss all envy dyes.

Enter Priest.