Chapter CIII: Act V: Scene I.3485

_Enter_ Priest [of Pan] _and_ Old Shepherd.

_Priest._ Shepherds, rise, and shake off sleep!
See, the blushing morn doth peep
Through the windows, whilst the sun
To the mountain-tops is run,
Gilding all the vales below 5
With his rising flames, which grow
Greater by his climbing still.
Up, ye lazy grooms, and fill
Bag and bottle for the field!
Clasp your cloaks fast, lest they yield 10
To the bitter north-east wind.
Call the maidens up, and find
Who lay longest, that she may
Go without a friend all day;
Then reward your dogs, and pray 15
Pan to keep you from decay:
So unfold, and then away!
What, not a shepherd stirring? Sure, the grooms
Have found their beds too easy, or the rooms
Fill’d with such new delight and heat, that they 20
Have both forgot their hungry sheep and day.
Knock, that they may remember what a shame
Sloth and neglect lays on a shepherd’s name.

_Old Shep._ [_after knocking at several doors_.]
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 26
That is a neighbour to the bordering down,
Hath drawn them thither ’bout some lusty sport,
Or spiced wassail bowl, to which resort
All the young men and maids of many a cote, 30
Whilst the trim minstrel strikes his merry note.

_Priest._ God 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 company. _Exeunt._ 35

[SCENE II.[3486]

_Enter_ CLORIN _in her cabin_, ALEXIS _with her_.

_Clo._ 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.

_Alexis._ Eternal thanks to thee, thou holy maid! 5
I find my former wand’ring thoughts well staid
Through thy wise precepts: and my outward pain
By thy choice herbs is almost gone again.
Thy sex’s vice and virtue are reveal’d
At once; for what one hurt another heal’d. 10

_Clo._ 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, _carrying_ AMORET.

_Amo._ Be’st thou the wildest creature of the wood, 15
That bear’st 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.

_Sat._ Fairest virgin, do not fear
Me, that doth thy body bear, 20
Not to hurt, but heal’d to be;
Men are ruder far than we.—
See, fair goddess, in the wood
They have let out yet more blood.
Some savage man hath struck her breast, 25
So soft and white, that no wild beast
Durst ha’ toucht, asleep or ’wake;
So sweet, that adder, newt, or snake,
Would have lain, from arm to arm,
On her bosom to be warm 30
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.

_Clo._ With spotless hand on spotless breast 35
I put these herbs, to give thee rest;
Which till I heal thee, will abide,
If both be pure; if not, off slide.—
See, it falls off from the wound!
Shepherdess, thou art not sound, 40
Full of lust.

_Sat._ Who would have thought it?
So fair a face!

_Clo._ Why, that hath brought it.

_Amo._ For aught I know or think, these words my last,
Yet, Pan so help me as my thoughts are chaste!

_Clo._ And so may Pan bless this my cure, 45
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.

_Sat._ Here away methinks I wind[3487] it: 50
Stronger yet.—Oh, here they be;
Here, here, in a hollow tree,
Two fond mortals have I found.

_Clo._ Bring them out; they are unsound.

_Enter_ CLOE _and_ DAPHNIS.

_Sat._ By the fingers thus I wring ye, 55
To my goddess thus I bring ye;
Strife is vain, come gently in.—
I scented them; they ’re full of sin.

_Clo._ Hold, Satyr; take this glass,
Sprinkle over all the place, 60
Purge the air from lustful breath,
To save this shepherdess from death:
And stand you still whilst I do dress
Her wound, for fear the pain increase.

_Sat._ From this glass I throw a drop 65
Of crystal water on the top
Of every grass, on flowers a pair:
Send a fume, and keep the air
Pure and wholesome, sweet and blest,
Till this virgin’s wound be drest.— 70

_Clo._ Satyr, help to bring her in.

_Sat._ By Pan, I think she hath no sin,
[_Carrying_ AMORET _into the bower._]
She is so light.—Lie on these leaves.
Sleep, that mortal sense deceives,
Crown thine eyes and ease thy pain; 75
May’st thou soon be well again!

_Clo._ 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. 80

_Clo._ In this flame his finger thrust,
Which will burn him if he lust;
But if not, away will turn,
As loth unspotted flesh to burn.—
[Satyr _applies_ DAPHNIS’S _finger to the taper._]
See, it gives back;[3488] let him go, 85
Farewell, mortal: keep thee so. [_Exit_ DAPHNIS.]
Stay, fair nymph; fly 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. 90

_Clo._ Hold her finger to the flame;
That will yield her praise or shame.

_Sat._ To her doom she dares not stand,

[_Applies_ CLOE’S _finger to the taper_.]

But plucks away her tender hand;
And the taper darting sends 95
His hot beams at her fingers’ ends.—
Oh, thou art foul within, and hast
A mind, if nothing else, unchaste!

_Alex._ Is not that Cloe? ’T is my love, ’t is she!
Cloe, fair Cloe!

_Cloe._ My Alexis!

_Alex._ He. 100

_Cloe._ Let me embrace thee.

_Clo._ Take her hence,
Lest her sight disturb his sense.

_Alex._ Take not her; take my life first!

_Clo._ See his wound again is burst!
Keep her near, here in the wood, 105
Till I ha’ stopt these streams of blood.

[Satyr _leads off_ CLOE.]

Soon again he ease shall find,
If I can but still his mind.
This curtain thus I do display,
To keep the piercing air away. 110
[_Draws a curtain before the bower._]

[SCENE III.][3489]

_Enter_ Old Shepherd _and_ Priest of Pan.

_Priest._ Sure, they are lost for ever; ’t is in vain
To find them out with trouble and much pain
That have a ripe desire and forward will
To fly the company of all but ill.
What shall be counsell’d now? Shall we retire,
Or constant follow still that first desire 6
We had to find them?

_Old Shep._ Stay a little while;
For, if the morning’s mist do not beguile
My sight with shadows, sure I see a swain:
One of this jolly troop ’s come back again. 10

_Enter_ THENOT.

_Priest._ Dost thou not blush, young shepherd, to be known
Thus without care leaving thy flocks alone,
And following what desire and present blood
Shapes out before thy burning sense for good;
Having forgot what tongue hereafter may 15
Tell to the world thy falling off, and say
Thou art regardless both of good and shame,
Spurning at virtue and a virtuous name?
And like a glorious desperate man, that buys
A poison of much price, by which he dies, 20
Dost there lay out for lust, whose only gain
Is foul disease, with present age and pain,
And then a grave? These be the fruits that grow
In such hot veins, that only beat to know
Where they may take most ease, and grow ambitious 25
Through their own wanton fire and pride delicious.

_The._ Right holy sir, I have not known this night
What the smooth face of mirth was, or the sight
Of any looseness; music, joy, and ease,
Have been to me as bitter drugs to please 30
A stomach lost with weakness, not a game
That I am skill’d at throughly: nor a dame,
Went her tongue smoother than the feet of time,
Her beauty ever-living like the rhyme
Our blessed Tityrus[3490] did sing of yore; 35
No, were she more enticing than the store
Of fruitful summer, when the loaden tree
Bids the faint traveller be bold and free;
’T were but to me like thunder ’gainst the bay,
Whose lightning may enclose, but never stay 40
Upon his charmed branches; such am I
Against the catching flames of woman’s eye.

_Priest._ Then, wherefore hast thou wand’red?

_The._ ’T was a vow
That drew me out last night, which I have now
Strictly perform’d, and homewards go to give 45
Fresh pasture to my sheep, that they may live.

_Priest._ ’T is good to hear you, shepherd, if the heart
In this well-sounding music bear his part.
Where have you left the rest?

_The._ I have not seen,
Since yesternight we met upon this green 50
To fold our flocks up, any of that train;
Yet have I walkt those woods round, and have lain
All this long night under an aged tree;
Yet neither wand’ring shepherd did I see,
Or shepherdess; or drew into mine ear 55
The sound of living thing, unless it were
The nightingale, among the thick-leav’d spring
That sits alone in sorrow, and doth sing
Whole nights away in mourning; or the owl,
Or our great enemy,[3491] that still doth howl 60
Against the moon’s cold beams.

_Priest._ Go, and beware
Of after-falling.

_The._ Father, ’t is my care. _Exit._

_Enter_ DAPHNIS.

_Old Shep._ Here comes another straggler; sure I see
A shame in this young shepherd.—Daphnis?

_Daph._ He.

_Priest._ Where hast thou left the rest, that should have been 65
Long before this grazing upon the green
Their yet-imprison’d flocks?

_Daph._ Thou holy man,
Give me a little breathing, till I can
Be able to unfold what I have seen;
Such horror, that the like hath never been 70
Known to the ear of shepherd. Oh, my heart
Labours a double motion to impart
So heavy tidings! You all know the bower
Where the chaste Clorin lives, by whose great power
Sick men and cattle have been often cur’d; 75
There lovely Amoret, that was assur’d[3492]
To lusty Perigot, bleeds out her life,
Forc’d by some iron hand and fatal knife;
And, by her, young Alexis.

_Enter_ AMARILLIS, _running from her_ Sullen Shepherd.

_Amar._ If there be
Ever a neighbour-brook or hollow tree, 80
Receive my body, close me up from lust
That follows at my heels! Be ever just,
Thou god of shepherds, Pan, for her dear sake
That loves the rivers’ brinks, and still doth shake
In cold remembrance of thy quick pursuit; 85
Let me be made a reed, and, ever mute,
Nod to the waters’ fall, whilst every blast
Sings through my slender leaves that I was chaste!

_Priest._ This is a night of wonder.—Amarill,
Be comforted: the holy gods are still 90
Revengers of these wrongs.

_Amar._ Thou blessed man,
Honour’d upon these plains, and lov’d of Pan,
Hear me, and save from endless infamy
My yet-unblasted flower, virginity!
By all the garlands that have crown’d that head, 95
By thy chaste office, and the marriage-bed
That still is blessed by thee; by all the rites
Due to our god, and by those virgin-lights
That burn before his altar; let me not
Fall from my former state, to gain the blot 100
That never shall be purg’d! I am not now
That wanton Amarillis: here I vow
To Heaven, and thee, grave father, if I may
Scape this unhappy night, to know the day
A virgin, never after to endure 105
The tongues or company of men unpure!
I hear him come; save me!

_Priest._ Retire a while
Behind this bush, till we have known that vile
Abuser of young maidens. [_They retire_.]

_Enter_ Sullen [Shepherd].

_Sull. Shep._ Stay thy pace,
Most lov’d Amarillis; let the chase 110
Grow calm and milder: fly me not so fast:
I fear the pointed brambles have unlac’d
Thy golden buskins. Turn again, and see
Thy shepherd follow, that is strong and free,
Able to give thee all content and ease. 115
I am not bashful, virgin; I can please
At first encounter, hug thee in mine arm,
And give thee many kisses, soft and warm
As those the sun prints on the smiling cheek
Of plums or mellow peaches; I am sleek 120
And smooth as Neptune when stern Aeolus
Locks up his surly winds, and nimbly thus
Can show my active youth. Why dost thou fly?
Remember, Amarillis, it was I
That kill’d Alexis for thy sake, and set 125
An everlasting hate ’twixt Amoret
And her beloved Perigot; ’t was I
That drown’d her in the well, where she must lie
Till time shall leave to be. Then, turn again, 129
Turn with thy open arms, and clip[3493] the swain
That hath perform’d all this; turn, turn, I say;
I must not be deluded.

_Priest_ [_coming forward._] Monster, stay!
Thou that art like a canker to the state
Thou liv’st and breath’st in, eating with debate
Through every honest bosom, forcing still 135
The veins of any that may serve thy will;
Thou that hast offer’d with a sinful hand
To seize upon this virgin, that doth stand
Yet trembling here!

_Sull. Shep._ Good holiness, declare
What had the danger been, if being bare 140
I had embrac’d her; tell me, by your art,
What coming wonders would that sight impart.

_Priest._ Lust and a branded soul.

_Sull. Shep._ Yet, tell me more;
Hath not our mother Nature, for her store
And great encrease, said it is good and just, 145
And will’d that every living creature must
Beget his like?

_Priest._ You’re better read than I,
I must confess, in blood and lechery.—
Now to the bower, and bring this beast along,
Where he may suffer penance for his wrong. _Exeunt._ 150

[SCENE IV.][3494]

_Enter_ PERIGOT, _with his hand bloody_.

_Peri._ Here will I wash it in the morning’s dew,
Which she on every little grass doth strew
In silver drops against the sun’s appear;[3495]
’T is holy water, and will make me clear.
My hand will not be cleans’d.—My wronged love, 5
If thy chaste spirit in the air yet move,
Look mildly down on him that yet doth stand
All full of guilt, thy blood upon his hand;
And though I struck thee undeservedly,
Let my revenge on her that injur’d thee 10
Make less a fault which I intended not.
And let these dew-drops wash away my spot!—
It will not cleanse. Oh, to what sacred flood
Shall I resort, to wash away this blood?
Amidst these trees the holy Clorin dwells, 15
In a low cabin of cut boughs, and heals
All wounds: to her I will myself address,
And my rash faults repentantly confess;
Perhaps she ’ll find a means, by art or prayer,
To make my hand, with chaste blood stained, fair. 20
That done, not far hence, underneath some tree
I ’ll have a little cabin built, since she
Whom I ador’d is dead; there will I give
Myself to strictness, and, like Clorin, live. _Exit._

[SCENE V.][3496]

_The curtain is drawn_, CLORIN _appears sitting in the cabin_, AMORET _sitting on the one side of her_, ALEXIS _and_ CLOE _on the other_; _the_ Satyr _standing by_.

_Clo._ Shepherd, once more your blood is staid:
Take example by this maid,
Who is heal’d ere you be pure;
So hard it is lewd lust to cure.
Take heed, then, how you turn your eye 5
On this[3497] other lustfully.—
And, shepherdess, take heed lest you
Move his willing eye thereto:
Let no wring, nor pinch, nor smile,
Of yours his weaker sense beguile.— 10
Is your love yet true and chaste,
And for ever so to last?

_Alexis._ I have forgot all vain desires,
All looser thoughts, ill-temp’red fires:
True love I find a pleasant fume, 15
Whose moderate heat can ne’er consume.

_Cloe._ And I a new fire feel in me,
Whose chaste flame is not quencht to be.

_Clo._ Join your hands with modest touch,
And for ever keep you such. 20

_Enter_ PERIGOT.

_Peri._ [_Aside._] Yon is her cabin: thus far off I ’ll stand,
And call her forth; for my unhallowed hand
I dare not bring so near yon sacred place.—
Clorin, come forth, and do a timely grace
To a poor swain.

_Clo._ What art thou that dost call? 25
Clorin is ready to do good to all:
Come near.

_Peri._ I dare not.

_Clo._ Satyr, see
Who it is that calls on me.

_Sat._ [_coming from the bower._]
There, at hand, some swain doth stand,
Stretching out a bloody hand. 30

_Peri._ Come, Clorin, bring thy holy waters clear,
To wash my hand.

_Clo._ [_coming out._] What wonders have been here
To-night! Stretch forth thy hand, young swain;
Wash and rub it, whilst I rain
Holy water.

_Peri._ Still you pour, 35
But my hand will never scour.

_Clo._ Satyr, bring him to the bower:
We will try the sovereign power
Of other waters.

_Sat._ Mortal, sure,
’T is the blood of maiden pure 40
That stains thee so.

_The_ Satyr _leadeth him to the bower_, _where he spieth_ AMORET, _and kneeling down_, _she knoweth him_.

_Peri._ Whate’er thou be,
Be’st thou her sprite, or some divinity,
That in her shape thinks good to walk this grove,
Pardon poor Perigot!

_Amo._ I am thy love,
Thy Amoret, for evermore thy love: 45
Strike once more on my naked breast, I’ll prove
As constant still. Oh, couldst thou love me yet,
How soon could I my former griefs forget!

_Peri._ So over-great with joy that you live, now
I am, that no desire of knowing how 50
Doth seize me. Hast thou still power to forgive?

_Amo._ Whilst thou hast power to love, or I to live:
More welcome now than hadst thou never gone
Astray from me!

_Peri._ And when thou lov’st alone, 54
And not I [thee,] death, or some ling’ring pain
That’s worse, light on me!

_Clo._ Now your stain
Perhaps will cleans’d be;[3498] once again.
See, the blood that erst did stay,
With the water drops away.
All the powers again are pleas’d, 60
And with this new knot are appeas’d.
Join your hands, and rise together:
Pan be blest that brought you hither!
_Enter_ Priest of Pan _and_ Old Shepherd.
Go back again, whate’er thou art; unless
Smooth maiden-thoughts possess thee, do not press 65
This hallowed ground.—Go, Satyr, take his hand,
And give him present trial.

_Sat._ Mortal, stand,
Till by fire I have made known
Whether thou be such a one
That mayst freely tread this place. 70
Hold thy hand up.—Never was
[_Applying the_ Priest’s _hand to the taper_.]
More untainted flesh than this.
Fairest, he is full of bliss.

_Clo._ Then boldly speak, why dost thou seek this place?

_Priest._ First, honour’d virgin, to behold thy face, 75
Where all good dwells that is; next, for to try
The truth of late report was given to me,—
Those shepherds that have met with foul mischance,
Through much neglect and more ill governance,
Whether the wounds they have may yet endure 80
The open air, or stay a longer cure;
And lastly, what the doom may be shall light
Upon those guilty wretches, through whose spite
All this confusion fell; for to this place,
Thou holy maiden, have I brought the race 85
Of these offenders, who have freely told
Both why and by what means they gave this bold
Attempt upon their lives.

_Clo._ Fume all the ground,
And sprinkle holy water, for unsound
And foul infection ’gins to fill the air: 90
It gathers yet more strongly; take a pair
[_The_ Satyr _fumes the ground_, _etc._]
Of censers fill’d with frankincense and myrrh,
Together with cold camphire quickly stir
Thee, gentle Satyr, for the place begins
To sweat and labour with th’ abhorred sins 95
Of those offenders: let them not come nigh,
For full of itching flame and leprosy
Their very souls are, that the ground goes back,
And shrinks to feel the sullen weight of black
And so unheard-of venom.—Hie thee fast, 100
Thou holy man, and banish from the chaste
These manlike monsters; let them never more
Be known upon these downs, but, long before
The next sun’s rising, put them from the sight
And memory of every honest wight: 105
Be quick in expedition, lest the sores
Of these weak patients break into new gores.[3499] _Exit_ Priest.

_Peri._ My dear, dear Amoret, how happy are
Those blessed pairs, in whom a little jar
Hath bred an everlasting love, too strong 110
For time, or steel, or envy to do wrong!
How do you feel your hurts? Alas, poor heart,
How much I was abus’d! Give me the smart,
For it is justly mine.

_Amo._ I do believe,
It is enough, dear friend; leave off to grieve, 115
And let us once more, in despite of ill,
Give hands and hearts again.

_Peri._ With better will
Than e’er I went to find in hottest day
Cool crystal of the fountain, to allay 119
My eager thirst. May this band never break!
Hear us, oh, Heaven!

_Amo._ Be constant.

_Peri._ Else Pan wreak
With double vengeance my disloyalty!
Let me not dare to know the company
Of men, or any more behold those eyes!

_Amo._ Thus, shepherd, with a kiss all envy dies. 125

_Re-enter_ Priest of Pan.

_Priest._ Bright maid, I have perform’d your will. The swain
In whom such heat and black rebellions reign
Hath undergone your sentence and disgrace;
Only the maid I have reserv’d, whose face
Shows much amendment; many a tear doth fall 130
In sorrow of her fault. Great fair, recall
Your heavy doom, in hope of better days,
Which I dare promise; once again upraise
Her heavy spirit, that near drowned lies
In self-consuming care that never dies. 135

_Clo._ I am content to pardon: call her in.—
The air grows cool again, and doth begin
To purge itself: how bright the day doth show
After this stormy cloud!—Go, Satyr, go,
And with this taper boldly try her hand. 140
If she be pure and good, and firmly stand
To be so still, we have perform’d a work
Worthy the gods themselves.
Satyr _brings_ AMARILLIS _in_.

_Sat._ Come forward, maiden; do not lurk,
Nor hide your face with grief and shame; 145
Now or never get a name
That may raise thee, and re-cure
All thy life that was impure.
Hold your hand unto the flame;
If thou be’st a perfect dame, 150
Or hast truly vow’d to mend,
This pale fire will be thy friend.—[_Applies her hand to the taper._]
See, the taper hurts her not!
Go thy ways; let never spot
Henceforth seize upon thy blood: 155
Thank the gods, and still be good.

_Clo._ Young shepherdess, now ye are brought again
To virgin-state, be so, and so remain
To thy last day, unless the faithful love 159
Of some good shepherd force thee to remove;
Then labour to be true to him, and live
As such a one that ever strives to give
A blessed memory to after-time;
Be famous for your good, not for your crime.—
Now, holy man, I offer up again 165
These patients, full of health and free from pain.
Keep them from after-ills; be ever near
Unto their actions; teach them how to clear
The tedious way they pass through from suspect;
Keep them from wronging others, or neglect 170
Of duty in themselves; correct the blood
With thrifty bits[3500] and labour; let the flood,
Or the next neighbouring spring, give remedy
To greedy thirst and travail, not the tree 174
That hangs with wanton clusters; let not wine,
Unless in sacrifice or rites divine,
Be ever known of shepherds; have a care,
Thou man of holy life! Now do not spare
Their faults through much remissness, nor forget 179
To cherish him whose many pains and sweat
Hath giv’n increase and added to the downs.
Sort all your shepherds from the lazy clowns
That feed their heifers in the budded brooms.
Teach the young maidens strictness, that the grooms
May ever fear to tempt their blowing youth, 185
Banish all compliment, but single truth,
From every tongue and every shepherd’s heart;
Let them still use persuading, but no art.
Thus, holy priest, I wish to thee and these
All the best goods and comforts that may please. 190

_All._ And all those blessings Heaven did ever give,
We pray upon this bower may ever live.

_Priest._ Kneel, every shepherd, whilst with powerful hand
I bless your after-labours, and the land
You feed your flocks upon. Great Pan defend you 195
From misfortune, and amend you;
Keep you from those dangers still
That are followed by your will;
Give ye means to know at length,
All your riches, all your strength, 200
Cannot keep your foot from falling
To lewd lust, that still is calling
At your cottage, till his power
Bring again that golden hour
Of peace and rest to every soul; 205
May his care of you control
All diseases, sores, or pain,
That in after-time may reign
Either in your flocks or you;
Give ye all affections new, 210
New desires, and tempers new,
That ye may be ever true!
Now rise, and go; and, as ye pass away,
Sing to the God of Sheep that happy lay
That honest Dorus taught ye,—Dorus, he 215
That was the soul and god of melody.
_They all sing_ [_and strew the ground with flowers_].

THE SONG.

All ye woods, and trees, and bowers,
All ye virtues and ye powers
That inhabit in the lakes,
In the pleasant springs or brakes, 220
Move your feet
To our sound,
Whilst we greet
All this ground
With his honour and his name 225
That defends our flocks from blame.

He is great, and he is just,
He is ever good, and must
Thus be honour’d. Daffadillies,
Roses, pinks, and loved lilies, 230
Let us fling,
Whilst we sing,
Ever holy,
Ever holy,
Ever honour’d, ever young! 235
Thus great Pan is ever sung!

_Exeunt_ [_all except_ CLORIN _and_ Satyr].

_Sat._ Thou divinest, fairest, brightest,
Thou most powerful maid and whitest,
Thou most virtuous and most blessed,
Eyes of stars, and golden-tressed 240
Like Apollo; tell me, sweetest,
What new service now is meetest
For the Satyr? Shall I stray
In the middle air, and stay
The sailing rack,[3501] or nimbly take 245
Hold by the moon, and gently make
Suit to the pale queen of night
For a beam to give thee light?
Shall I dive into the sea,
And bring thee coral, making way 250
Through the rising waves that fall
In snowy fleeces? Dearest, shall
I catch thee wanton fawns, or flies
Whose woven wings the summer dyes
Of many colours? get thee fruit, 255
Or steal from Heaven old Orpheus’ lute?
All these I’ll venture for, and more,
To do her service all these woods adore.

_Clo._ No other service, Satyr, but thy watch
About these thicks,[3502] lest harmless people catch 260
Mischief or sad mischance.

_Sat._ Holy virgin, I will dance
Round about these woods as quick
As the breaking light, and prick[3503]
Down the lawns and down the vales 265
Faster than the windmill sails.
So I take my leave, and pray
All the comforts of the day,
Such as Phoebus’ heat doth send
On the earth, may still befriend 270
Thee and this arbour!

_Clo._ And to thee
All thy master’s love be free! _Exeunt._

THE WILD-GOOSE CHASE

BY JOHN FLETCHER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

DE GARD, a noble staid Gentleman, that, being newly lighted from his travels, assists his sister Oriana in her chase of Mirabel the Wild-Goose. Acted by Mr. Robert Benfield.

LA CASTRE, the indulgent father to Mirabel. Acted by Mr. Richard Robinson.

MIRABEL the Wild-Goose, a travelled Monsieur, and great defier of all ladies in the way of marriage, otherwise their much loose servant, at last caught by the despised Oriana. Incomparably acted by Mr. Joseph Taylor.

PINAC, his fellow-traveller, of a lively spirit, and servant to the no less sprightly Lillia Bianca. Admirably well acted by Mr. Thomas Pollard.

BELLEUR, Companion to both, of a stout blunt humour, in love with Rosalura. Most naturally acted by Mr. John Lowin.

NANTOLET, father to Rosalura and Lillia Bianca. Acted by Mr. William Penn.

LUGIER, the rough and confident tutor to the ladies, and chief engine to entrap the Wild-Goose. Acted by Mr. Hilliard Swanston.

A Young [Man disguised as a] Factor. By Mr. John Hony-man.

[Gentlemen,] Foot-Boy, Singing-Boy, Two [Men disguised as] Merchants, Priest, Servants.

ORIANA, the fair betrothed of Mirabel, and witty follower of the chase. Acted by Mr. Steph. Hammerton.

ROSALURA, } the airy daughters of Nantolet.
LILLIA BIANCA, } William Trigg, Sander Gough.

PETELLA, their servant. Mr. Shanck.

MARIANA, an English Courtesan.

Four Women.

SCENE.—_Paris._