The Faithful Shepherdess by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher
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Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher >> The Faithful Shepherdess
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_Alex_. O Death!
_Sat_. Back again about this ground,
Sure I hear a mortal sound;
I bind thee by this powerful Spell,
By the Waters of this Well,
By the glimmering Moon beams bright,
Speak again, thou mortal wight.
_Alex_. Oh!
_Sat_. Here the foolish mortal lies,
Sleeping on the ground: arise.
The poor wight is almost dead,
On the ground his wounds have bled,
And his cloaths foul'd with his blood:
To my Goddess in the Wood
Will I lead him, whose hands pure,
Will help this mortal wight to cure.
_Enter_ Cloe _again_.
_Clo_. Since I beheld yon shaggy man, my Breast
Doth pant, each bush, methinks, should hide a Beast:
Yet my desire keeps still above my fear,
I would fain meet some Shepherd, knew I where:
For from one cause of fear I am most free,
It is impossible to ravish me,
I am so willing. Here upon this ground
I left my Love all bloody with his wound;
Yet till that fearful shape made me be gone,
Though he were hurt, I furnisht was of one,
But now both lost. _Alexis_, speak or move,
If thou hast any life, thou art yet my Love.
He's dead, or else is with his little might
Crept from the Bank for fear of that ill Spright.
Then where art thou that struck'st my love? O stay,
Bring me thy self in change, and then I'll say
Thou hast some justice, I will make thee trim
With Flowers and Garlands that were meant for him;
I'll clip thee round with both mine arms, as fast
As I did mean he should have been embrac'd:
But thou art fled. What hope is left for me?
I'll run to _Daphnis_ in the hollow tree,
Whom I did mean to mock, though hope be small,
To make him bold; rather than none at all,
I'll try him; his heart, and my behaviour too
Perhaps may teach him what he ought to do. [_Exit_.
_Enter_ Sullen Shepherd.
_Sul_. This was the place, 'twas but my feeble sight,
Mixt with the horrour of my deed, and night,
That shap't these fears, and made me run away,
And lose my beauteous hardly gotten prey.
Speak gentle Shepherdess, I am alone,
And tender love for love: but she is gone
From me, that having struck her Lover dead,
For silly fear left her alone and fled.
And see the wounded body is remov'd
By her of whom it was so well belov'd.
_Enter_ Perigot _and_ Amaryllis _in the shape of_ Amoret.
But these fancies must be quite forgot,
I must lye close. Here comes young _Perigot_
With subtile _Amaryllis_ in the shape
Of _Amoret_. Pray Love he may not 'scape.
_Amar_. Beloved _Perigot_, shew me some place,
Where I may rest my limbs, weak with the Chace
Of thee, an hour before thou cam'st at least.
_Per_. Beshrew my tardy steps: here shalt thou rest
Upon this holy bank, no deadly Snake
Upon this turf her self in folds doth make.
Here is no poyson for the Toad to feed;
Here boldly spread thy hands, no venom'd Weed
Dares blister them, no slimy Snail dare creep
Over thy face when thou art fast asleep;
Here never durst the babling Cuckow spit,
No slough of falling Star did ever hit
Upon this bank: let this thy Cabin be,
This other set with Violets for me.
_Ama_. Thou dost not love me _Perigot_.
_Per_. Fair maid,
You only love to hear it often said;
You do not doubt.
_Amar_. Believe me but I do.
_Per_. What shall we now begin again to woo?
'Tis the best way to make your Lover last,
To play with him, when you have caught him fast.
_Amar_. By _Pan_ I swear, I loved _Perigot_,
And by yon Moon, I think thou lov'st me not.
_Per_. By _Pan_ I swear, and if I falsely swear,
Let him not guard my flocks, let Foxes tear
My earliest Lambs, and Wolves whilst I do sleep
Fall on the rest, a Rot among my Sheep.
I love thee better than the careful Ewe
The new-yean'd Lamb that is of her own hew;
I dote upon thee more than the young Lamb
Doth on the bag that feeds him from his Dam.
Were there a sort of Wolves got in my Fold,
And one ran after thee, both young and old
Should be devour'd, and it should be my strife
To save thee, whom I love above my life.
_Ama_. How shall I trust thee when I see thee chuse
Another Bed, and dost my side refuse?
_Per_. 'Twas only that the chast thoughts might be shewn
'Twixt thee and me, although we were alone.
_Ama_. Come, _Perigot_ will shew his power, that he
Can make his _Amoret_, though she weary be,
Rise nimbly from her Couch, and come to his.
Here take thy _Amoret_, embrace and kiss.
_Per_. What means my Love?
_Ama_. To do as lovers shou'd,
That are to be enjoy'd, not to be woo'd.
There's ne'r a Shepherdess in all the plain
Can kiss thee with more Art, there's none can feign
More wanton tricks.
_Per_. Forbear, dear Soul, to trie
Whether my Heart be pure; I'll rather die
Than nourish one thought to dishonour thee.
_Amar_. Still think'st thou such a thing as Chastitie
Is amongst Women? _Perigot_ there's none,
That with her Love is in a Wood alone,
And would come home a maid; be not abus'd
With thy fond first Belief, let time be us'd:
Why dost thou rise?
_Per_. My true heart thou hast slain.
_Ama_. Faith _Perigot_, I'll pluck thee down again.
_Per_. Let go, thou Serpent, that into my brest
Hast with thy cunning div'd; art not in Jest?
_Ama_. Sweet love, lye down.
_Per_. Since this I live to see,
Some bitter North-wind blast my flocks and me.
_Ama_. You swore you lov'd, yet will not do my will.
_Per_. O be as thou wert once, I'll love thee still.
_Ama_. I am, as still I was, and all my kind,
Though other shows we have poor men to blind.
_Per_. Then here I end all Love, and lest my vain
Belief should ever draw me in again,
Before thy face that hast my Youth misled,
I end my life, my blood be on thy head.
_Ama._ O hold thy hands, thy _Amoret_ doth cry.
_Per._ Thou counsel'st well, first _Amoret_ shall dye,
That is the cause of my eternal smart. [_He runs after her._
_Ama._ O hold.
_Per._ This steel shall pierce thy lustful heart.
[_The Sullen Shepherd steps out and uncharms her._
_Sull._ Up and down every where,
I strew the herbs to purge the air:
Let your Odour drive hence
All mists that dazel sence.
Herbs and Springs whose hidden might
Alters Shapes, and mocks the sight,
Thus I charge you to undo
All before I brought ye to:
Let her flye, let her 'scape,
Give again her own shape.
_Enter_ Amaryllis _in her own shape._
_Amar._ Forbear thou gentle Swain, thou dost mistake,
She whom thou follow'dst fled into the brake,
And as I crost thy way, I met thy wrath,
The only fear of which near slain me hath.
_Per._ Pardon fair Shepherdess, my rage and night
Were both upon me, and beguil'd my sight;
But far be it from me to spill the blood
Of harmless Maids that wander in the Wood. [_Ex._ Ama.
_Enter_ Amoret.
_Amor._ Many a weary step in yonder path
Poor hopeless _Amoret_ twice trodden hath
To seek her _Perigot_, yet cannot hear
His Voice; my _Perigot_, she loves thee dear
That calls.
_Per._ See yonder where she is, how fair
She shows, and yet her breath infefts the air.
_Amo._ My Perigot.
_Per._ Here.
_Amo._ Happy.
_Per._ Hapless first:
It lights on thee, the next blow is the worst.
_Amo._ Stay _Perigot_, my love, thou art unjust.
_Peri._ Death is the best reward that's due to lust. [_Exit_ Perigot.
_Sul._ Now shall their love be crost, for being struck,
I'le throw her in the Fount, lest being took
By some night-travaller, whose honest care
May help to cure her. Shepherdess prepare
Your self to die.
_Amo._ No Mercy I do crave,
Thou canst not give a worse blow than I have;
Tell him that gave me this, who lov'd him too,
He struck my soul, and not my body through,
Tell him when I am dead, my soul shall be
At peace, if he but think he injur'd me.
_Sul._ In this Fount be thy grave, thou wert not meant
Sure for a woman, thou art so innocent. [_flings her into the well_
She cannot scape, for underneath the ground,
In a long hollow the clear spring is bound,
Till on yon side where the Morns Sun doth look,
The strugling water breaks out in a Brook. [_Exit._
[_The God of the River riseth with_ Amoret _in his arms._
_God._ What powerfull charms my streams do bring
Back again unto their spring,
With such force, that I their god,
Three times striking with my Rod,
Could not keep them in their ranks:
My Fishes shoot into the banks,
There's not one that stayes and feeds,
All have hid them in the weeds.
Here's a mortal almost dead,
Faln into my River head,
Hallowed so with many a spell,
That till now none ever fell.
'Tis a Female young and clear,
Cast in by some Ravisher.
See upon her breast a wound,
On which there is no plaister bound.
Yet she's warm, her pulses beat,
'Tis a sign of life and heat.
If thou be'st a Virgin pure,
I can give a present cure:
Take a drop into thy wound
From my watry locks more round
Than Orient Pearl, and far more pure
Than unchast flesh may endure.
See she pants, and from her flesh
The warm blood gusheth out afresh.
She is an unpolluted maid;
I must have this bleeding staid.
From my banks I pluck this flower
With holy hand, whose vertuous power
Is at once to heal and draw.
The blood returns. I never saw
A fairer Mortal. Now doth break
Her deadly slumber: Virgin, speak.
_Amo._ Who hath restor'd my sense, given me new breath,
And brought me back out of the arms of death?
_God._ I have heal'd thy wounds.
_Amo._ Ay me!
_God._ Fear not him that succour'd thee:
I am this Fountains god; below,
My waters to a River grow,
And 'twixt two banks with Osiers set,
That only prosper in the wet,
Through the Meadows do they glide,
Wheeling still on every side,
Sometimes winding round about,
To find the evenest channel out.
And if thou wilt go with me,
Leaving mortal companie,
In the cool streams shalt thou lye,
Free from harm as well as I:
I will give thee for thy food,
No Fish that useth in the mud,
But Trout and Pike that love to swim
Where the gravel from the brim
Through the pure streams may be seen:
Orient Pearl fit for a Queen,
Will I give thy love to win,
And a shell to keep them in:
Not a Fish in all my Brook
That shall disobey thy look,
But when thou wilt, come sliding by,
And from thy white hand take a fly.
And to make thee understand,
How I can my waves command,
They shall bubble whilst I sing
Sweeter than the silver spring.
_The SONG.
Do not fear to put thy feet
Naked in the River sweet;
Think not Leach, or Newt or Toad
Will bite thy foot, when thou hast troad;
Nor let the water rising high,
As thou wad'st in, make thee crie
And sob, but ever live with me,
And not a wave shall trouble thee._
_Amo._ Immortal power, that rul'st this holy flood,
I know my self unworthy to be woo'd
By thee a god: for e're this, but for thee
I should have shown my weak Mortalitie:
Besides, by holy Oath betwixt us twain,
I am betroath'd unto a Shepherd swain,
Whose comely face, I know the gods above
May make me leave to see, but not to love.
_God._ May he prove to thee as true.
Fairest Virgin, now adieu,
I must make my waters fly,
Lest they leave their Channels dry,
And beasts that come unto the spring
Miss their mornings watering,
Which I would not; for of late
All the neighbour people sate
On my banks, and from the fold,
Two white Lambs of three weeks old
Offered to my Deitie:
For which this year they shall be free
From raging floods, that as they pass
Leave their gravel in the grass:
Nor shall their Meads be overflown,
When their grass is newly mown.
_Amo._ For thy kindness to me shown,
Never from thy banks be blown
Any tree, with windy force,
Cross thy streams, to stop thy course:
May no beast that comes to drink,
With his horns cast down thy brink;
May none that for thy fish do look,
Cut thy banks to damm thy Brook;
Bare-foot may no Neighbour wade
In thy cool streams, wife nor maid,
When the spawns on stones do lye,
To wash their Hemp, and spoil the Fry.
_God._ Thanks Virgin, I must down again,
Thy wound will put thee to no pain:
Wonder not so soon 'tis gone:
A holy hand was laid upon.
_Amo._ And I unhappy born to be,
Must follow him that flies from me.
_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._
_Enter_ Perigot.
_Per._ She is untrue, unconstant, and unkind,
She's gone, she's gone, blow high thou North-west wind,
And raise the Sea to Mountains, let the Trees
That dare oppose thy raging fury, leese
Their firm foundation, creep into the Earth,
And shake the world, as at the monstrous birth
Of some new Prodigy, whilst I constant stand,
Holding this trustie Boar-spear in my hand,
And falling thus upon it.
_Enter_ Amaryllis, _running._
_Amar._ Stay thy dead-doing hand, thou art too hot
Against thy self, believe me comely Swain,
If that thou dyest, not all the showers of Rain
The heavy clods send down can wash away
That foul unmanly guilt, the world will lay
Upon thee. Yet thy love untainted stands:
Believe me, she is constant, not the sands
Can be so hardly numbred as she won:
I do not trifle, _Shepherd_, by the Moon,
And all those lesser lights our eyes do view,
All that I told thee _Perigot_, is true:
Then be a free man, put away despair,
And will to dye, smooth gently up that fair
Dejected forehead: be as when those eyes
Took the first heat.
_Per._ Alas he double dyes,
That would believe, but cannot; 'tis not well
Ye keep me thus from dying, here to dwell
With many worse companions: but oh death,
I am not yet inamour'd of this breath
So much, but I dare leave it, 'tis not pain
In forcing of a wound, nor after gain
Of many dayes, can hold me from my will:
'Tis not my self, but _Amoret_, bids kill.
_Ama._ Stay but a little, little, but one hour,
And if I do not show thee through the power
Of herbs and words I have, as dark as night,
My self turn'd to thy _Amoret_, in sight,
Her very figure, and the Robe she wears,
With tawny Buskins, and the hook she bears
Of thine own Carving, where your names are set,
Wrought underneath with many a curious fret,
The _Prim-Rose_ Chaplet, taudry-lace and Ring,
Thou gavest her for her singing, with each thing
Else that she wears about her, let me feel
The first fell stroke of that Revenging steel.
_Per._ I am contented, if there be a hope
To give it entertainment, for the scope
Of one poor hour; goe, you shall find me next
Under yon shady Beech, even thus perplext,
And thus believing.
_Ama._ Bind before I goe,
Thy soul by _Pan_ unto me, not to doe
Harm or outragious wrong upon thy life,
Till my return.
_Per._ By _Pan_, and by the strife
He had with _Phoebus_ for the Mastery,
When Golden _Midas_ judg'd their _Minstrelcy_,
I will not. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Satyr, _with_ Alexis, _hurt._
_Satyr._ Softly gliding as I goe,
With this burthen full of woe,
Through still silence of the night,
Guided by the Gloe-worms light,
Hither am I come at last,
Many a Thicket have I past
Not a twig that durst deny me,
Not a bush that durst descry me,
To the little Bird that sleeps
On the tender spray: nor creeps
That hardy worm with pointed tail,
But if I be under sail,
Flying faster than the wind,
Leaving all the clouds behind,
But doth hide her tender head
In some hollow tree or bed
Of seeded Nettles: not a Hare
Can be started from his fare,
By my footing, nor a wish
Is more sudden, nor a fish
Can be found with greater ease,
Cut the vast unbounded seas,
Leaving neither print nor sound,
Than I, when nimbly on the ground,
I measure many a league an hour:
But behold the happy power,
That must ease me of my charge,
And by holy hand enlarge
The soul of this sad man, that yet
Lyes fast bound in deadly fit;
Heaven and great _Pan_ succour it!
Hail thou beauty of the bower,
Whiter than the Paramour
Of my Master, let me crave
Thy vertuous help to keep from Grave
This poor Mortal that here lyes,
Waiting when the destinies
Will cut off his thred of life:
View the wound by cruel knife
Trencht into him.
_Clor._ What art thou call'st me from my holy rites,
And with thy feared name of death affrights
My tender Ears? speak me thy name and will.
_Satyr._ I am the _Satyr_ that did fill
Your lap with early fruit, and will,
When I hap to gather more,
Bring ye better and more store:
Yet I come not empty now,
See a blossom from the bow,
But beshrew his heart that pull'd it,
And his perfect sight that cull'd it
From the other springing blooms;
For a sweeter youth the Grooms
Cannot show me, nor the downs,
Nor the many neighbouring towns;
Low in yonder glade I found him,
Softly in mine Arms I bound him,
Hither have I brought him sleeping
In a trance, his wounds fresh weeping,
In remembrance such youth may
Spring and perish in a day.
_Clor._ _Satyr_, they wrong thee, that do term thee rude,
Though thou beest outward rough and tawny hu'd,
Thy manners are as gentle and as fair
As his, who brags himself, born only heir
To all Humanity: let me see the wound:
This Herb will stay the current being bound
Fast to the Orifice, and this restrain
Ulcers, and swellings, and such inward pain,
As the cold air hath forc'd into the sore:
This to draw out such putrifying gore
As inward falls.
_Satyr._ Heaven grant it may doe good.
_Clor._ Fairly wipe away the blood:
Hold him gently till I fling
Water of a vertuous spring
On his temples; turn him twice
To the Moon beams, pinch him thrice,
That the labouring soul may draw
From his great eclipse.
_Satyr._ I saw
His eye-lids moving.
_Clo._ Give him breath,
All the danger of cold death
Now is vanisht; with this Plaster,
And this unction, do I master
All the festred ill that may
Give him grief another day.
_Satyr._ See he gathers up his spright
And begins to hunt for light;
Now he gapes and breaths again:
How the blood runs to the vein,
That erst was empty!
_Alex._ O my heart,
My dearest, dearest _Cloe_, O the smart
Runs through my side: I feel some pointed thing
Pass through my Bowels, sharper than the sting
Of Scorpion.
Pan preserve me, what are you?
Do not hurt me, I am true
To my _Cloe_, though she flye,
And leave me to thy destiny.
There she stands, and will not lend
Her smooth white hand to help her friend:
But I am much mistaken, for that face
Bears more Austerity and modest grace,
More reproving and more awe
Than these eyes yet ever saw
In my Cloe. Oh my pain
Eagerly renews again.
Give me your help for his sake you love best.
_Clor._ Shepherd, thou canst not possibly take rest,
Till thou hast laid aside all hearts desires
Provoking thought that stir up lusty fires,
Commerce with wanton eyes, strong blood, and will
To execute, these must be purg'd, untill
The vein grow whiter; then repent, and pray
Great _Pan_ to keep you from the like decay,
And I shall undertake your cure with ease.
Till when this vertuous Plaster will displease
Your tender sides; give me your hand and rise:
Help him a little _Satyr_, for his thighs
Yet are feeble.
_Alex._ Sure I have lost much blood.
_Satyr._ 'Tis no matter, 'twas not good.
Mortal you must leave your wooing,
Though there be a joy in doing,
Yet it brings much grief behind it,
They best feel it, that do find it.
_Clor._ Come bring him in, I will attend his sore
When you are well, take heed you lust no more.
_Satyr._ Shepherd, see what comes of kissing,
By my head 'twere better missing.
Brightest, if there be remaining
Any service, without feigning
I will do it; were I set
To catch the nimble wind, or get
Shadows gliding on the green,
Or to steal from the great Queen
Of _Fayries_, all her beauty,
I would do it, so much duty
Do I owe those precious Eyes.
_Clor._ I thank thee honest _Satyr_, if the cryes
Of any other that be hurt or ill,
Draw thee unto them, prithee do thy will
To bring them hither.
_Satyr._ I will, and when the weather
Serves to Angle in the brook,
I will bring a silver hook,
With a line of finest silk,
And a rod as white as milk,
To deceive the little fish:
So I take my leave, and wish,
On this Bower may ever dwell
Spring, and Summer.
_Clo_. Friend farewel. [_Exit_.
_Enter_ Amoret, _seeking her Love_.
_Amor_. This place is Ominous, for here I lost
My Love and almost life, and since have crost
All these Woods over, never a Nook or Dell,
Where any little Bird, or Beast doth dwell,
But I have sought him, never a bending brow
Of any Hill or Glade, the wind sings through,
Nor a green bank, nor shade where Shepherds use
To sit and Riddle, sweetly pipe, or chuse
Their Valentines, that I have mist, to find
My love in. _Perigot_, Oh too unkind,
Why hast thou fled me? whither art thou gone?
How have I wrong'd thee? was my love alone
To thee worthy this scorn'd recompence? 'tis well,
I am content to feel it: but I tell
Thee Shepherd, and these lusty woods shall hear,
Forsaken _Amoret_ is yet as clear
Of any stranger fire, as Heaven is
From foul corruption, or the deep Abysse
From light and happiness; and thou mayst know
All this for truth, and how that fatal blow
Thou gav'st me, never from desert of mine,
Fell on my life, but from suspect of thine,
Or fury more than madness; therefore, here,
Since I have lost my life, my love, my dear,
Upon this cursed place, and on this green,
That first divorc'd us, shortly shall be seen
A sight of so great pity, that each eye
Shall dayly spend his spring in memory
Of my untimely fall.
_Enter_ Amaryllis.
_Amar_. I am not blind,
Nor is it through the working of my mind,
That this shows _Amoret_; forsake me all
That dwell upon the soul, but what men call
Wonder, or more than wonder, miracle,
For sure so strange as this the Oracle
Never gave answer of, it passeth dreams,
Or mad-mens fancy, when the many streams
Of new imaginations rise and fall:
'Tis but an hour since these Ears heard her call
For pity to young _Perigot_; whilest he,
Directed by his fury bloodily
Lanc't up her brest, which bloodless fell and cold;
And if belief may credit what was told,
After all this, the Melancholy Swain
Took her into his arms being almost slain,
And to the bottom of the holy well
Flung her, for ever with the waves to dwell.
'Tis she, the very same, 'tis _Amoret_,
And living yet, the great powers will not let
Their vertuous love be crost. Maid, wipe away
Those heavy drops of sorrow, and allay
The storm that yet goes high, which not deprest,
Breaks heart and life, and all before it rest:
Thy _Perigot_--
_Amor_. Where, which is _Perigot?_
_Amar_. Sits there below, lamenting much, god wot,
Thee [and thy] fortune, go and comfort him,
And thou shalt find him underneath a brim
Of sailing Pines that edge yon Mountain in.
_Amo_. I go, I run, Heaven grant me I may win
His soul again. [_Exit_ Amoret.
_Enter_ Sullen.
_Sull_. Stay _Amaryllis_, stay,
Ye are too fleet, 'tis two hours yet to day.
I have perform'd my promise, let us sit
And warm our bloods together till the fit
Come lively on us.
_Amar_. Friend you are too keen,
The morning riseth and we shall be seen,
Forbear a little.
_Sull_. I can stay no longer.
_Amar_. Hold _Shepherd_ hold, learn not to be a wronger
Of your word, was not your promise laid,
To break their loves first?
_Sull_. I have done it Maid.
_Amar_. No, they are yet unbroken, met again,
And are as hard to part yet as the stain
Is from the finest Lawn.
_Sull_. I say they are
Now at this present parted, and so far,
That they shall never meet.
_Amar_. Swain 'tis not so,
For do but to yon hanging Mountain go,
And there believe your eyes.
_Sull_. You do but hold
Off with delayes and trifles; farewell cold
And frozen bashfulness, unfit for men;
Thus I salute thee Virgin.
_Amar_. And thus then,
I bid you follow, catch me if you can. [_Exit_.
_Sull_. And if I stay behind I am no man. [_Exit running after her_.
_Enter_ Perigot.
_Per_. Night do not steal away: I woo thee yet
To hold a hard hand o're the rusty bit
That guides the lazy Team: go back again,
_Bootes_, thou that driv'st thy frozen Wain
Round as a Ring, and bring a second Night
To hide my sorrows from the coming light;
Let not the eyes of men stare on my face,
And read my falling, give me some black place
Where never Sun-beam shot his wholesome light,
That I may sit and pour out my sad spright
Like running water, never to be known
After the forced fall and sound is gone.
_Enter_ Amoret _looking for_ Perigot.
_Amo_. This is the bottom: speak if thou be here,
My _Perigot_, thy _Amoret_, thy dear
Calls on thy loved Name.
_Per_. What art thou [dare]
Tread these forbidden paths, where death and care
Dwell on the face of darkness?
_Amo_. 'Tis thy friend,
Thy _Amoret_, come hither to give end
To these consumings; look up gentle Boy,
I have forgot those Pains and dear annoy
I suffer'd for thy sake, and am content
To be thy love again; why hast thou rent
Those curled locks, where I have often hung
Riband and Damask-roses, and have flung
Waters distil'd to make thee fresh and gay,
Sweeter than the Nosegayes on a Bridal day?
Why dost thou cross thine Arms, and hang thy face
Down to thy bosom, letting fall apace
From those two little Heavens upon the ground
Showers of more price, more Orient, and more round
Than those that hang upon the Moons pale brow?
Cease these complainings, Shepherd, I am now
The same I ever was, as kind and free,
And can forgive before you ask of me.
Indeed I can and will.
_Per_. So spoke my fair.
O you great working powers of Earth and Air,
Water and forming fire, why have you lent
Your hidden vertues of so ill intent?
Even such a face, so fair, so bright of hue
Had _Amoret_; such words so smooth and new,
Came flying from her tongue; such was her eye,
And such the pointed sparkle that did flye
Forth like a bleeding shaft; all is the same,
The Robe and Buskins, painted Hook, and frame
Of all her Body. O me, _Amoret_!
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