Chapter C: Act II: Scene I.3437

_Enter_ 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.
See the dew-drops how they kiss 5
Every little flower that is;
Hanging on their velvet heads,
Like a rope of crystal beads;
See the heavy clouds down[3438] falling,
And bright Hesperus loud[3438] calling 10
The dead Night from under ground;
At whose rising mists unsound,[3439]
Damps and vapours fly apace,
Hovering o’er the wanton face
Of these pastures, where they come, 15
Striking dead both bud and bloom.
Therefore, from such danger lock
Every one his loved flock;
And let your dogs lie loose without,
Lest the wolf come as a scout 20
From the mountain, and, ere day,
Bear a lamb or kid away;
Or the crafty thievish fox
Break upon your simple flocks.
To secure yourselves from these, 25
Be not too secure in ease.
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 30
Of our great god. Sweetest slumbers,
And soft silence, fall in numbers
On your eyelids! So, farewell:
Thus I end my evening’s knell. _Exeunt._

[SCENE II.][3440]

_Enter_ CLORIN, _the_ Shepherdess, _sorting of herbs, and telling the natures of them_.

_Clo._ Now let me know what my best art hath done,
Helpt by the great power of the virtuous moon
In her full light. Oh, you sons of earth,
You only brood, unto whose [happy][3441] birth
Virtue was given, holding more of nature 5
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][3442] long before prime 10
Of day, give me your names, and, next, your hidden power.
This is the clote,[3443] bearing a yellow flower;
And this, black horehound; both are very good
For sheep or shepherd bitten by a wood[3444]
Dog’s venom’d teeth: these rhamnus[3445] branches are, 15
Which, stock in entries, or about the bar
That holds the door, kill all enchantments, charms
(Were they Medea’s verses), that do harms
To men or cattle: these for frenzy be
A speedy and a sovereign remedy, 20
The bitter wormwood, sage, and marigold;
Such sympathy with man’s good they do hold:
This tormentil,[3446] whose virtue is to part
All deadly killing poison from the heart:
And, here, narcissus root, for swellings best: 25
Yellow lysimachus,[3447] to give sweet rest
To the faint shepherd, killing, where it comes,
All busy gnats, and every fly that hums:
For leprosy, darnel and celandine,
With calamint, whose virtues do refine 30
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,[3448] from me and mine 35
I banish thee, with lustful turpentine;
You that entice the veins and stir the heat
To civil mutiny, scaling the seat
Our reason moves in, and deluding it
With dreams and wanton [fancies][3449] till the fit
Of burning lust be quencht, by appetite 41
Robbing the soul of blessedness and light:
And thou, light vervain, too, thou must go after,
Provoking easy souls to mirth and laughter;
No more shall I dip thee in water now, 45
And sprinkle every post and every bough
With thy well-pleasing juice, to make the grooms
Swell with high mirth, and with joy all the rooms.

_Enter_ THENOT.

_The._ This is the cabin where the best of all
Her sex that ever breath’d, or ever shall 50
Give heat or happiness to the shepherd’s 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 56
Of all the world, make 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 60
That leads to Jove’s high court, and chaster far
Than chastity itself, you blessed star
That brightly shines! thou, all the constancy
That in all women was or e’er shall be;
From whose fair eye-balls flies that holy fire 65
That styled is the mother of desire,
Infusing into every gentle breast
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! 70

_Clo._ Shepherd, how cam’st thou hither to this place?
No way is trodden; all the verdant grass
The spring shot up stands yet unbruised here
Of any foot; only the dappled deer,
Far from the feared sound of crooked horn, 75
Dwells in this fastness.

_The._ Chaster than the morn,
I have not wand’red, or by strong illusion
Into this virtuous place have made intrusion:
But hither am I come (believe me, fair).
To seek you out, of whose great good the air 80
Is full, and strongly labours, whilst the sound
Breaks against heaven, and drives into a stound[3450]
Th’ amazed shepherd, that such virtue can
Be resident in lesser than a man.

_Clo._ If any art I have, or hidden skill, 85
May cure thee of disease or fest’red ill
Whose grief or greenness to another’s eye
May seem unpossible of remedy,
I dare yet undertake it.

_The._ ’T is no pain
I suffer through disease, no heating vein 90
Conveys infection dangerous to the heart,
No part imposthum’d, to be cur’d by art,
This body holds; and yet a feller grief
Than ever skilful hand did give relief,
Dwells on my soul, and may be heal’d by you,
Fair, beauteous virgin.

_Clo._ Then, shepherd, let me sue 96
To know thy grief: that man yet never knew
The way to health that durst not show his sore.

_The._ Then, fairest, know, I love you.

_Clo._ Swain, no more!
Thou hast abus’d the strictness of this place, 100
And off’red sacrilegious foul 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.

_The._ Let me not, 106
Thou all perfection, merit such a blot
For my true zealous faith.

_Clo._ Dar’st thou abide
To see this holy earth at once divide,
And give her body up? for sure it will, 110
If thou pursu’st with wanton flame to fill
This hallowed place: therefore repent and go,
Whilst I with prayers appease his ghost below,
That else would tell thee what it were to be
A rival in that virtuous love that he 115
Embraces yet.

_The._ ’T is 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 121
The easy soul; your hands and fingers long,
With veins enamell’d richly; nor your tongue,
Though it spoke sweeter than Arion’s harp;
Your hair woven into many a curious warp, 125
Able in endless error to enfold
The [wand’ring][3451] soul; not the true perfect mould
Of all your body, which as pure doth show
In maiden-whiteness as the Alpine snow:
All these, were but your constancy away, 130
Would please me less than a black stormy day
The wretched seaman toiling through the deep.
But, whilst this honour’d strictness you do keep,
Though all the plagues that e’er begotten were
In the great womb of air were settled here, 135
In opposition, I would, like the tree,
Shake off those drops of weakness, and be free
Even in the arm of danger.

_Clo._ Wouldst thou have
Me raise again, fond man, from silent grave
Those sparks, that long ago were buried here 140
With my dead friend’s cold ashes?

_The._ 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 you, and be still
The same opinion speaks you: let not will, 145
And that great god of women, appetite,
Set up your blood again; do not invite
Desire and fancy from their long exile,
To seat them once more in a pleasing smile:
Be, like a rock, made firmly up ’gainst all 150
The power of angry heaven, or the strong fall
Of Neptune’s battery. If you yield, I die
To all affection; ’t is that loyalty
You tie unto this grave I so admire:
And yet there ’s something else I would desire,
If you would hear me, but withal deny. 156
Oh, 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.

_Clo._ Do; and let time wear out 160
What art and nature cannot bring about.

_The._ Farewell, thou soul of virtue, and be blest
For ever, whilst [that here][3452] I wretched rest
Thus to myself! Yet grant me leave to dwell
In kenning[3453] of this arbour: yon same dell, 165
O’ertopt with mourning cypress and sad yew,
Shall be my cabin, where I ’ll early rue,
Before the sun hath kist this dew away,
The hard uncertain chance which faith doth lay
Upon his head.

_Clo._ The gods give quick release 170
And happy cure unto thy hard disease! _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][3454]

_Enter_ Sullen Shepherd.

_Sull. Shep._ I do not love this wench that I should meet;
For ne’er 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, 5
When many maiden-blushes to our sight
Shoot from his early face: were all these set
In some neat form before me, ’t would not get
The least love from me; some desire it might,
And present burning. All to me in sight 10
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
Into a maiden’s ears, and tell how long 15
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]:[3455] then loathe, and fly:
This do I hold a blessed destiny. 20

_Enter_ AMARILLIS.

_Amar._ Hail, shepherd! Pan bless both thy flock and thee,
For being mindful of thy word to me!

_Sull. Shep._ Welcome, fair shepherdess! Thy loving swain
Gives thee the self-same wishes back again; 24
Who till this present hour ne’er knew that eye
Could make me cross mine arms, or daily die
With fresh consumings. Boldly tell me, then,
How shall we part their faithful loves, and when?
Shall I belie him to her? Shall I swear
His faith is false and he loves every where? 30
I ’ll say he mockt her th’ other day to you;
Which will by your confirming show as true,
For [she][3456] is of so pure an honesty,
To think, because [she][3456] will not, none will lie.
Or else to him I ’ll slander Amoret, 35
And say, she but seems chaste; I ’ll swear she met
Me ’mongst the shady sycamores last night,
And loosely off’red up her flame and sprite
Into my bosom; made a wanton bed 39
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,—Hobinal, you know,
Son to the aged shepherd of the glen, 45
Him I have sorted out of many men,
To say he found us at our private sport,
And rous’d us ’fore our time by his resort.
This to confirm, I’ve promis’d to the boy
Many a pretty knack and many a toy; 50
As gins to catch him birds, with bow and bolt
To shoot at conies,[3457] 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 you; which doth give
Me double pleasure: discord makes me live. 56

_Amar._ Lov’d swain, I thank ye. These tricks might prevail
With other rustic shepherds, but will fail
Even once to stir, much more to overthrow, 59
His fixed love from judgment, who doth know
Your nature, my end, and his chosen’s merit;
Therefore some stronger way must force his spirit,
Which I have found: give second, and my love
Is everlasting thine.

_Sull. Shep._ Try me, and prove.

_Amar._ These happy pair of lovers meet straightway, 65
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’er the like to this. By it doth grow, 70
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; 75
There’s not a grass on which was ever seen
The falling autumn or cold winter’s hand;
So full of heat and virtue is the land
About this fountain, which doth slowly break,
Below yon mountain’s foot, into a creek 80
That waters all the valley, giving fish
Of many sorts to fill the shepherd’s 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’er the head, into what feature 86
Or shape ’t would please the letter-down to crave,
Who must pronounce this charm too, which she gave
[_Showing a scroll._]
Me on her death-bed; told me what, and how,
I should apply unto the patients’ brow 90
That would be chang’d, casting them thrice asleep,
Before I trusted them into this deep.
All this she show’d me, and did charge me prove
This secret of her art, if crost in love.
I ’ll this attempt now, shepherd; I have here 95
All her prescriptions, and I will not fear
To be myself 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; 100
Which being done, leave me to my affair,
And ere the day shall quite itself outwear,
I will return unto my shepherd’s arm;
Dip me again, and then repeat this charm,
And pluck me up myself, whom freely take,
And the hott’st fire of thine affection slake. 106

_Sull. Shep._ And if I fit thee not, then fit not me.
I long the truth of this well’s power to see. _Exeunt._

SCENE IV.[3458]

_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, oh come, my fair!
Be not abus’d with fear, nor let cold care
Of honour stay thee from thy shepherd’s arm, 5
Who would as hard be won to offer harm
To thy chaste thoughts, as whiteness from the day,
Or yon great round to move another way.
My language shall be honest, full of truth,
My flame as smooth and spotless as my youth; 10
I will not entertain that wand’ring thought,
Whose easy current may at length be brought
To a loose vastness.

_Alexis._ (_within_.) Cloe!

_Daph._ ’T is her voice,
And I must answer.—Cloe!—Oh, the choice
Of dear embraces, chaste and holy strains 15
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 20
Than blushing modesty may entertain.

_Alexis._ (_within._) Cloe!

_Daph._ There sounds that blessed name again,
And I will meet it. Let me not mistake;
_Enter_ ALEXIS.
This is some shepherd. Sure, I am awake:
What may this riddle mean? I will retire, 25
To give myself more knowledge. [_Retires._]

_Alexis._ 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 30
That golden fruit which too, too long hath hung
Tempting the greedy eye. Thou stay’st too long;
I am impatient of those mad delays:
I must not leave unsought those many ways
That lead into this centre, till I find 35
Quench for my burning lust. I come, unkind! _Exit._

_Daph._ [_coming forward._] 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 40
Illusion? Sure, such fancies oft have been
Sent to abuse true love, and yet are seen
Daring to blind the virtuous thought with error;
But be they far from me with their fond terror!
I am resolv’d my Cloe yet is true. (_Cloe within._) 45
Cloe! Hark! Cloe! Sure, this voice is new,
Whose shrillness, like the sounding of a bell,
Tells me it is a woman.—Cloe, tell
Thy blessed name again.

_Cloe._ (_within._) Here!

_Daph._ Oh, what a grief is this, to be so near, 50
And not encounter!

_Enter_ CLOE.

_Cloe._ Shepherd, we are met:
Draw close into the covert, lest the wet,
Which falls like lazy mist upon the ground,
Soak through your startups.[3459]

_Daph._ Fairest, are you found?
How have we wand’red, that the better part
Of this good night is perisht? Oh, my heart!
How have I long’d to meet you, how to kiss 57
Those lily 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, 61
And almost grown lascivious, to intrude
These hot behaviours; where regard of fame,
Honour and modesty, a virtuous name,
And such discourse as one fair sister may 65
Without offence unto the brother say,
Should rather have been tend’red. 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 70
Henceforth to all discourses but shall be
Suiting to your sweet thoughts and modesty.
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; 75
All a young lover’s cunning, all his wiles,
And pretty wanton dyings shall to me
Be strangers; only to your chastity
I am devoted ever.

_Cloe._ Honest swain,
First let me thank you, then return again 80
As much of my love.—[_Aside._] No, thou art too cold,
Unhappy boy, not temp’red to my mould;
Thy blood falls heavy downward. ’T is not fear
To offend in boldness wins; they never wear
Deserved favours that deny to take 85
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 merely lost, to make him do his part! 90
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, 95
By interchange of hands and holy vow,
Never to break again. Walk you that way,
Whilst I in zealous meditation stray
A little this way. When we both have ended
These rites and duties, by the woods befriended 100
And secrecy 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. _Exit._

_Cloe._ And I will meet there never more with thee, 105
Thou idle shamefastness!

_Alexis._ (_within._) Cloe!

_Cloe._ ’T is he
That dare, I hope, be bolder.

_Alexis._ (_within._) Cloe!

_Cloe._ Now,
Great Pan, for Syrinx’ sake, bid speed our plough! _Exit._