The Faithful Shepherdess Part 2

_Clor_. If any art I have, or hidden skill May cure thee of disease or festred ill, Whose grief or greenness to anothers eye May seem impossible of remedy, I dare yet undertake it.

_The_. 'Tis no pain I suffer through disease, no beating vein Conveyes infection dangerous to the heart, No part impostum'd to be cur'd by Art, This body holds; and yet a feller grief Than ever skilfull hand did give relief Dwells on my soul, and may be heal'd by you, Fair beauteous Virgin.

_Clor_. Then Shepherd, let me sue To know thy grief; that man yet never knew The way to health, that durst not shew his sore.

_Then_. Then fairest, know, I love you.

_C[l]or_. Swain, no more, Thou hast abus'd the strictness of this place, And offred Sacrilegious foul disgrace To the sweet rest of these interred bones, For fear of whose ascending, fly at once, Thou and thy idle pa.s.sions, that the sight Of death and speedy vengeance may not fright Thy very soul with horror.

_Then_. Let me not (Thou all perfection) merit such a blot For my true zealous faith.

_Clor_. Dar'st thou abide To see this holy Earth at once divide And give her body up? for sure it will, If thou pursu'st with wanton flames to fill This hallowed place; therefore repent and goe, Whilst I with praise appease his Ghost below, That else would tell thee what it were to be A rival in that vertuous love that he Imbraces yet.

_Then_. 'Tis not the white or red Inhabits in your cheek that thus can wed My mind to adoration; nor your eye, Though it be full and fair, your forehead high, And smooth as _Pelops_ shoulder; not the smile Lies watching in those dimples to beguile The easie soul, your hands and fingers long With veins inamel'd richly, nor your tongue, Though it spoke sweeter than _Arions_ Harp, Your hair wove into many a curious warp, Able in endless errour to infold The wandring soul, nor the true perfect mould Of all your body, which as pure doth show In Maiden whiteness as the Alpsian snow.

All these, were but your constancie away, Would please me less than a black stormy day The wretched Seaman toyling through the deep.

But whilst this honour'd strictness you dare keep, Though all the plagues that e're begotten were In the great womb of air, were setled here, In opposition, I would, like the tree, Shake off those drops of weakness, and be free Even in the arm of danger.

_Clor_. Wouldst thou have Me raise again (fond man) from silent grave, Those sparks that long agoe were buried here, With my dead friends cold ashes?

_Then_. Dearest dear, I dare not ask it, nor you must not grant; Stand strongly to your vow, and do not faint: Remember how he lov'd ye, and be still The same Opinion speaks ye; let not will, And that great G.o.d of women, appet.i.te, Set up your blood again; do not invite Desire and fancie from their long exile, To set them once more in a pleasing smile: Be like a rock made firmly up 'gainst all The power of angry Heaven, or the strong fall Of _Neptunes_ battery; if ye yield, I die To all affection; 'tis that loyaltie Ye tie unto this grave I so admire; And yet there's something else I would desire, If you would hear me, but withall deny.

O _Pan_, what an uncertain destiny Hangs over all my hopes! I will retire, For if I longer stay, this double fire Will lick my life up.

_Clor_. Doe, let time wear out What Art and Nature cannot bring about.

_Then_. Farewel thou soul of vertue, and be blest For ever, whilst that here I wretched rest Thus to my self; yet grant me leave to dwell In kenning of this Arbor; yon same dell O'retopt with morning Cypress and sad Yew Shall be my Cabin, where I'le early rew, Before the Sun hath kist this dew away, The hard uncertain chance which Fate doth lay Upon this head.

_Clor_. The G.o.ds give quick release And happy cure unto thy hard disease. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Sullen Shepherd.

_Sullen_. I do not love this wench that I should meet, For ne'r did my unconstant eye yet greet That beauty, were it sweeter or more fair, Than the new blossoms, when the morning air Blows gently on the[m], or the breaking light, When many maiden blushes to our sight Shoot from his early face: were all these set In some neat form before me, 'twould not get The least love from me; some desire it might, Or present burning: all to me in sight Are equal, be they fair, or black, or brown, Virgin, or careless wanton, I can crown My appet.i.te with any; swear as oft And weep, as any, melt my words as soft Into a maiden[s] ears, and tell how long My heart has been her servant, and how strong My pa.s.sions are: call her unkind and cruel, Offer her all I have to gain the Jewel Maidens so highly prize: then loath, and fly: This do I hold a blessed destiny.

_Enter_ Amaryllis.

_Amar_. Hail Shepherd, _Pan_ bless both thy flock and thee, For being mindful of thy word to me.

_Sul_. Welcom fair Shepherdess, thy loving swain Gives thee the self same wishes back again, Who till this present hour ne're knew that eye, Could make me cross mine arms, or daily dye With fresh consumings: boldly tell me then, How shall we part their faithful loves, and when?

Shall I bely him to her, shall I swear His faith is false, and he loves every where?

I'le say he mockt her th' other day to you, Which will by your confirming shew as true, For he is of so pure an honesty, To think (because he will not) none will lye: Or else to him I'le slander _Amoret_, And say, she but seems chaste; I'le swear she met Me 'mongst the shady Sycamores last night And loosely offred up her flame and spright Into my bosom, made a wanton bed Of leaves and many flowers, where she spread Her willing body to be prest by me; There have I carv'd her name on many a tree, Together with mine own; to make this show More full of seeming, _Hobinall_ you know, Son to the aged Shepherd of the glen, Him I have sorted out of many men, To say he found us at our private sport, And rouz'd us 'fore our time by his resort: This to confirm, I have promis'd to the boy Many a pretty knack, and many a toy, As gins to catch him birds, with bow and bolt, To shoot at nimble Squirrels in the holt; A pair of painted Buskins, and a Lamb, Soft as his own locks, or the down of swan; This I have done to win ye, which doth give Me double pleasure. Discord makes me live.

_Amar_. Lov'd swain, I thank ye, these tricks might prevail With other rustick Shepherds, but will fail Even once to stir, much more to overthrow His fixed love from judgement, who doth know Your nature, my end, and his chosens merit; Therefore some stranger way must force his spirit, Which I have found: give second, and my love Is everlasting thine.

_Sul_. Try me and prove.

_Amar_. These happy pair of lovers meet straightway, Soon as they fold their flocks up with the day, In the thick grove bordering upon yon Hill, In whose hard side Nature hath carv'd a well, And but that matchless spring which Poets know, Was ne're the like to this: by it doth grow About the sides, all herbs which Witches use, All simples good for Medicine or abuse, All sweets that crown the happy Nuptial day, With all their colours, there the month of _May_ Is ever dwelling, all is young and green, There's not a gra.s.s on which was ever seen The falling _Autumn_, or cold Winters hand, So full of heat and vertue is the land, About this fountain, which doth slowly break Below yon Mountains foot, into a Creek That waters all the vally, giving Fish Of many sorts, to fill the Shepherds dish.

This holy well, my grandam that is dead, Right wise in charms, hath often to me said, Hath power to change the form of any creature, Being thrice dipt o're the head, into what feature, Or shape 'twould please the letter down to crave, Who must p.r.o.nounce this charm too, which she gave Me on her death-bed; told me what, and how, I should apply unto the Patients brow, That would be chang'd, casting them thrice asleep, Before I trusted them into this deep.

All this she shew'd me, and did charge me prove This secret of her Art, if crost in love.

I'le this attempt; now Shepherd, I have here All her prescriptions, and I will not fear To be my self dipt: come, my temples bind With these sad herbs, and when I sleep you find, As you do speak your charm, thrice down me let, And bid the water raise me _Amoret_; Which being done, leave me to my affair, And e're the day shall quite it self out-wear, I will return unto my Shepherds arm, Dip me again, and then repeat this charm, And pluck me up my self, whom freely take, And the hotst fire of thine affection slake.

_Sul._ And if I fit thee not, then fit not me: I long the truth of this wells power to see. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Daphnis._

_Daph._ Here will I stay, for this the covert is Where I appointed _Cloe_; do not miss, Thou bright-ey'd virgin, come, O come my fair, Be not abus'd with fear, nor let cold care Of honour stay thee from the Shepherds arm, Who would as hard be won to offer harm To thy chast thoughts, as whiteness from the day, Or yon great round to move another way.

My language shall be honest, full of truth, My flames as smooth and spotless as my youth: I will not entertain that wandring thought, Whose easie current may at length be brought To a loose vastness.

_Alexis within._ Cloe!

_Daph._ 'Tis her voyce, And I must answer, _Cloe_! Oh the choice Of dear embraces, chast and holy strains Our hands shall give! I charge you all my veins Through which the blood and spirit take their way, Lock up your disobedient heats, and stay Those mutinous desires that else would grow To strong rebellion: do not wilder show Than blushing modesty may entertain.

_Alexis within._ Cloe!

_Daph._ There sounds that [blessed] name again,

_Enter_ Alexis.

And I will meet it: let me not mistake, This is some Shepherd! sure I am awake; What may this riddle mean? I will retire, To give my self more knowledg.

_Alex._ Oh my fire, How thou consum'st me! _Cloe,_ answer me, _Alexis_, strong _Alexis_ , high and free, Calls upon _Cloe_. See mine arms are full Of entertainment, ready for to pull That golden fruit which too too long hath hung Tempting the greedy eye: thou stayest too long, I am impatient of these mad delayes; I must not leave unsought these many ways That lead into this center, till I find Quench for my burning l.u.s.t. I come, unkind. [_Exit_ Alexis.

_Daph._ Can my imagination work me so much ill, That I may credit this for truth, and still Believe mine eyes? or shall I firmly hold Her yet untainted, and these sights but bold Illusion? Sure such fancies oft have been Sent to abuse true love, and yet are seen, Daring to blind the vertuous thought with errour.

But be they far from me with their fond terrour: I am resolv'd my _Cloe_ yet is true. [Cloe _within._ _Cloe_, hark, _Cloe_: Sure this voyce is new, Whose shrilness like the sounding of a Bell, Tells me it is a Woman: _Cloe_, tell Thy blessed name again. _Cloe_. [_within_] Here.

Oh what a grief is this to be so near, And not incounter!

_Enter_ Cloe.

_Clo._ Shepherd, we are met, Draw close into the covert, lest the wet Which falls like lazy mists upon the ground Soke through your Startups.

_Daph._ Fairest are you found?

How have we wandred, that the better part Of this good night is perisht? Oh my heart!

How have I long'd to meet ye, how to kiss Those lilly hands, how to receive the bliss That charming tongue gives to the happy ear Of him that drinks your language! but I fear I am too much unmanner'd, far too rude, And almost grown lascivious to intrude These hot behaviours; where regard of fame, Honour, and modesty, a vertuous name, And such discourse as one fair Sister may Without offence unto the Brother say, Should rather have been tendred: but believe, Here dwells a better temper; do not grieve Then, ever kindest, that my first salute Seasons so much of fancy, I am mute Henceforth to all discourses, but shall be Suiting to your sweet thoughts and modestie.

Indeed I will not ask a kiss of you, No not to wring your fingers, nor to sue To those blest pair of fixed stars for smiles, All a young lovers cunning, all his wiles, And pretty wanton dyings, shall to me Be strangers; only to your chast.i.tie I am devoted ever.

_Clo_. Honest Swain, First let me thank you, then return again As much of my love: no thou art too cold, Unhappy Boy, not tempred to my mold, Thy blood falls heavy downward, 'tis not fear To offend in boldness wins, they never wear Deserved favours that deny to take When they are offered freely: Do I wake To see a man of his youth, years and feature, And such a one as we call goodly creature, Thus backward? What a world of precious Art Were meerly lost, to make him do his part?

But I will shake him off, that dares not hold, Let men that hope to be belov'd be bold.

_Daphnis_, I do desire, since we are met So happily, our lives and fortunes set Upon one stake, to give a.s.surance now, By interchange of hands and holy vow, Never to break again: walk you that way Whilest I in zealous meditation stray A little this way: when we both have ended These rites and duties, by the woods befriended, And secrecie of night, retire and find An aged Oak, whose hollowness may bind Us both within his body, thither go, It stands within yon bottom.

_Daph_. Be it so. [_Ex_. Daph.

_Clo_. And I will meet there never more with thee, Thou idle shamefastness.

_Alex. [within] Chloe!_

_Clo_. 'Tis he That dare I hope be bolder.

_Alex. Cloe!_

_Clo_. Now Great _Pan_ for _Syrinx_ sake bid speed our Plow. [_Exit_ Cloe.