The Faithful Shepherdess Part 8

Farewel all hope of that s.e.x, whilst I thought There 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 peep Through the window, whilst the Sun To the mountain tops is run, Gilding all the Vales below With his rising flames, which grow Greater by his climbing still.

Up ye lazie grooms, and fill Bagg and Bottle for the field; Clasp your cloaks fast, lest they yield To the bitter North-east wind.

Call the Maidens up, and find Who lay longest, that she may Goe without a friend all day; Then reward your Dogs, and pray _Pan_ to keep you from decay: So unfold and then away.

What not a Shepherd stirring? sure the grooms Have found their beds too easie, or the rooms Fill'd with such new delight, and heat, that they Have both forgot their hungry sheep, and day; Knock, that they may remember what a shame Sloath and neglect layes on a Shepherds name.

_Old Shep_. It is to little purpose, not a swain This night hath known his lodging here, or lain Within these cotes: the woods, or some near town, That is a neighbour to the bordering Down, Hath drawn them thither, 'bout some l.u.s.tie sport, Or spiced Wa.s.sel-Boul, to which resort All the young men and maids of many a cote, Whilst the trim Minstrel strikes his merry note.

_Priest_. G.o.d pardon sin, show me the way that leads To 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 staid Through thy wise precepts, and my outward pain By thy choice herbs is almost gone again: Thy s.e.xes vice and vertue are reveal'd At 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 fear Me, that do thy body bear, Not to hurt, but heal'd to be; Men are ruder far than we.

See fair _G.o.ddess_ in the wood, They have let out yet more blood.

Some savage man hath struck her breast So soft and white, that no wild beast Durst ha' toucht asleep, or wake: So sweet, that _Adder, Newte_, or _Snake_, Would have lain from arm to arm, On her bosom to be warm All 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 brest I 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 l.u.s.t.

_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 _G.o.ddess_ thus I bring ye; Strife is vain, come gently in, I scented them, they're full of sin.

_Clor_. Hold _Satyr_, take this Gla.s.s, Sprinkle over all the place, Purge the Air from l.u.s.tfull breath, To save this Shepherdess from death, And stand you still whilst I do dress Her wound for fear the pain encrease.

_Sat_. From this gla.s.s I throw a drop Of Crystal water on the top Of every gra.s.s, on flowers a pair: Send a fume and keep the air Pure 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 l.u.s.t; 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 sends His hot beams at her fingers ends: O thou art foul within, and hast A 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.