 | The Faithful Shepherdess |  |
Actus Secundus.
Scena Prima.
Enter an old Shepherd, with a bell ringing, and the Priest of Pan following.Priest.
Shepherds all, and maidens fair,
Fold your flocks up, for the Air
'Gins to thicken, and the sun
Already his great course hath run.
Soe the dew-drops how they kiss
Every little flower that is:
Hanging on their velvet heads,
Like a rope of crystal beads.
See the heavy clouds low falling,
And bright Hesperus down calling
The dead night from under ground,
At whose rising mists unsound,
Damps, and vapours fly apace,
Hovering o're the wanton face
Of these pastures, where they come,
Striking dead both bud and bloom;
Therefore from such danger lock
Every one his loved flock,
And let your Dogs lye loose without,
Lest the Wolf come as a scout
From the mountain, and e're day
Bear a Lamb or kid away,
Or the crafty theevish Fox,
Break upon your simple flocks:
To secure your selves from these,
Be not too secure in case;
Let one eye his watches keep,
Whilst the t'other eye doth sleep;
So you shall good Shepherds prove,
And for ever hold the love
Of our great god. Sweetest slumbers
And soft silence fall in numbers
On your eye-lids: so farewel,
Thus I end my evenings knel.
[Exeunt.
Enter Clorin, the Shepherdess, sorting of herbs, and telling the natures of them.
Clor.
Now let me know what my best Art hath done,
Helpt by the great power of the vertuous moon
In her full light; O you sons of Earth,
You only brood, unto whose happy birth
Vertue was given, holding more of nature
Than man her first born and most perfect creature,
Let me adore you; you that only can
Help or kill nature, drawing out that span
Of life and breath even to the end of time;
You that these hands did crop, long before prime
Of day; give me your names, and next your hidden power.
This is the Clote bearing a yellow flower,
And this black Horehound, both are very good
For sheep or Shepherd, bitten by a wood
Dogs venom'd tooth; these Ramuns branches are,
Which stuck in entries, or about the bar
That holds the door fast, kill all inchantments, charms,
Were they Medeas verses that doe harms
To men or cattel; these for frenzy be
A speedy and a soveraign remedie,
The bitter Wormwood, Sage, and Marigold,
Such sympathy with mans good they do hold;
This Tormentil, whose vertue is to part
All deadly killing poyson from the heart;
And here Narcissus roots for swellings best,
Yellow Lysimacus, to give sweet rest
To the faint Shepherd, killing where it comes
All busie gnats, and every fly that hums:
For leprosie, Darnel, and Sellondine,
With Calamint, whose vertues do refine
The blood of man, making it free and fair
As the first hour it breath'd, or the best air.
Here other two, but your rebellious use
Is not for me, whose goodness is abuse;
Therefore foul Standergrass, from me and mine
I banish thee, with lustful Turpentine,
You that intice the veins and stir the heat
To civil mutiny, scaling the seat
Our reason moves in, and deluding it
With dreams and wanton fancies, till the sit
Of burning lust be quencht; by appetite,
Robbing the soul of blessedness and light:
And thou light Varvin too, thou must go after,
Provoking easie souls to mirth and laughter;
No more shall I dip thee in water now,
And sprinkle every post, and every bough
With thy well pleasing juyce, to make the grooms
Swell with high mirth, as with joy all the rooms.
Enter Thenot.
The.
This is the Cabin where the best of all
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Give heat or happiness to the Shepherds side,
Doth only to her worthy self abide.
Thou blessed star, I thank thee for thy light,
Thou by whose power the darkness of sad night
Is banisht from the Earth, in whose dull place
Thy chaster beams play on the heavy face
Of all the world, making the blue Sea smile,
To see how cunningly thou dost beguile
Thy Brother of his brightness, giving day
Again from Chaos. Whiter than that way
That leads to Joves high Court, and chaster far
Than chastity it self, yon blessed star
That nightly shines: Thou, all the constancie
That in all women was, or e're shall be,
From whose fair eye-balls flyes that holy fire,
That Poets stile the Mother of desire,
Infusing into every gentle brest
A soul of greater price, and far more blest
Than that quick power, which gives a difference,
'Twixt man and creatures of a lower sense.
Clor.
Shepherd, how cam'st thou hither to this place?
No way is troden, all the verdant grass
The spring shot up, stands yet unbruised here
Of any foot, only the dapled Deer
Far from the feared sound of crooked horn
Dwels in this fastness.
Th.
Chaster than the morn,
I have not wandred, or by strong illusion
Into this vertuous place have made intrusion:
But hither am I come (believe me fair)
To seek you out, of whose great good the air
Is full, and strongly labours, whilst the sound
Breaks against Heaven, and drives into a stound
The amazed Shepherd, that such vertue can
Be resident in lesser than a man.
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 unpossible 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.
Chor.
Swain, no more,
Thou hast abus'd the strictness of this place,
And offred Sacrilegious soul disgrace
To the sweet rest of these interred bones,
For fear of whose ascending, fly at once,
Thou and thy idle passions, 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 god of women, appetite,
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 gods 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 them 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 appetite with any; swear as oft
And weep, as any, melt my words as soft
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My heart has been her servant, and how strong
My passions 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
May 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 grass 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 pronounce 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 blesseds 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 lust. 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,
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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 chastitie
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 assurance 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 secresie 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]
Cloe!
Clo.
'Tis he
That dare I hope be bolder.
Alex.
Cloe!
Clo.
Now
Great Pan for Syrinx sake bid speed our Plow.
[Exit Cloe.
| The Faithful Shepherdess | |