Act 1 — [Scene II.][3421]

Old Shep. Now we have done this holy festival In honour of our great god, and his rites Perform’d, prepare yourselves for chaste And uncorrupted fires; that as the priest With powerful hand shall sprinkle on your brows5 His pure and holy water, ye may be From all hot flames of lust and loose thoughts free. Kneel, shepherds, kneel; here comes the priest of Pan.

Priest. Shepherds, thus I purge away [Sprinkling them with water.] Whatsoever this great day,10 Or the past hours, gave not good, To corrupt your maiden blood. From the high rebellious heat Of the grapes, and strength of meat, From the wanton quick desires15 They do kindle by their fires I do wash you with this water; Be you pure and fair hereafter! From your livers and your veins Thus I take away the stains;20 All your thoughts be smooth and fair: Be ye fresh and free as air! Never more let lustful heat Through your purged conduits[3422] beat, Or a plighted troth he broken,25 Or a wanton verse be spoken In a shepherdess’s ear: Go your ways, ye are all clear. They rise and sing in praise of Pan.

Sing his praises that doth keep Our flocks from harm,30 Pan, the father of our sheep; And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round, Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground Fills the music with her sound.35 Pan, O great god Pan, to thee Thus do we sing! Thou that keep’st us chaste and free As the young spring; Ever be thy honour spoke,40 From that place the Morn is broke To that place Day doth unyoke!

Peri. Stay, gentle Amoret, thou fair-brow’d maid; Thy shepherd prays thee stay, that holds thee dear, Equal with his soul’s good. Amo. Speak; I give45 Thee freedom, shepherd; and thy tongue be still The same it ever was, as free from ill As he whose conversation never knew The court or city; be thou ever true! Peri. When I fall off from my affection,50 Or mingle my clean thoughts with foul desires, First, let our great god cease to keep my flocks, That, being left alone without a guard, The wolf, or winter’s rage, summer’s great heat And want of water, rots, or what to us55 Of ill is yet unknown, fall speedily, And in their general ruin let me go! Amo. I pray thee, gentle shepherd, wish not so: I do believe thee; ’t is as hard for me To think thee false, and harder, than for thee To hold me foul. Peri. Oh, you are fairer far61 Than the chaste blushing morn, or that fair star That guides the wand’ring seaman through the deep; Straighter than the straightest pine upon the steep Head of an aged mountain; and more white65 Than the new milk we strip before day-light From the full-freighted bags of our fair flocks; Your hair more beauteous than those hanging locks Of young Apollo! Amo. Shepherd, be not lost; Y’ are sail’d too far already from the coast70 Of your discourse. Peri. Did you not tell me once I should not love alone, I should not lose Those many passions, vows, and holy oaths, I’ve sent to heaven? Did you not give your hand, Even that fair hand, in hostage? Do not, then, Give back again those sweets to other men,76 You yourself vow’d were mine. Amo. Shepherd, so far as maiden’s modesty May give assurance, I am once more thine, Once more I give my hand. Be ever free80 From that great foe to faith, foul jealousy! Peri. I take it as my best good; and desire, For stronger confirmation of our love, To meet this happy night in that fair grove,84 Where all true shepherds have rewarded been For their long service: say, sweet, shall it hold? Amo. Dear friend, you must not blame me, if I make A doubt of what the silent night may do, Coupled with this day’s heat, to move your blood. Maids must be fearful. Sure you have not been Wash’d white enough, for yet I see a stain91 Stick in your liver:[3423] go and purge again. Peri. Oh, do not wrong my honest simple truth! Myself and my affections are as pure As those chaste flames that burn before the shrine95 Of the great Dian: only my intent To draw you thither was to plight our troths, With interchange of mutual chaste embraces, And ceremonious tying of our souls. For to that holy wood is consecrate100 A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes Their stolen children, so to make them free From dying flesh and dull mortality.105 By this fair fount hath many a shepherd sworn, And given away his freedom, many a troth Been plight, which neither envy nor old time Could ever break, with many a chaste kiss given, In hope of coming happiness; by this110 Fresh fountain many a blushing maid Hath crown’d the head of her long-loved shepherd With gaudy flowers, whilst he happy sung Lays of his love and dear captivity.114 There grows all herbs fit to cool looser flames Our sensual parts provoke, chiding our bloods, And quenching by their power those hidden sparks That else would break out, and provoke our sense To open fires; so virtuous is that place. Then, gentle shepherdess, believe, and grant. In troth, it fits not with that face to scant121 Your faithful shepherd of those chaste desires He ever aim’d at, and—— Amo. Thou hast prevail’d: farewell. This coming night Shall crown thy chaste hopes with long-wish’d delight.125 Peri. Our great god Pan reward thee for that good Thou hast given thy poor shepherd! Fairest bud Of maiden virtues, when I leave to be The true admirer of thy chastity, Let me deserve the hot polluted name130 Of a wild woodman, or affect some dame Whose often prostitution hath begot More foul diseases than ever yet the hot Sun bred thorough his burnings, whilst the Dog Pursues the raging Lion, throwing fog135 And deadly vapour from his angry breath, Filling the lower world with plague and death! Exit Amoret.

Amar. Shepherd, may I desire to be believ’d, What I shall blushing tell? Peri. Fair maid, you may. Amar. Then, softly thus: I love thee, Perigot;140 And would be gladder to be lov’d again Than the cold earth is in his frozen arms To clip[3424] the wanton spring. Nay, do not start, Nor wonder that I woo thee; thou that art The prime of our young grooms, even the top Of all our lusty shepherds. What dull eye,146 That never was acquainted with desire, Hath seen thee wrastle, run, or cast the stone With nimble strength and fair delivery, And hath not sparkled fire, and speedily150 Sent secret heat to all the neighbouring veins? Who ever heard thee sing, that brought again That freedom back was lent unto thy voice? Then, do not blame me, shepherd, if I be One to be numb’red in this company,155 Since none that ever saw thee yet were free. Peri. Fair shepherdess, much pity I can lend To your complaints; but sure I shall not love. All that is mine, myself and my best hopes, Are given already. Do not love him, then,160 That cannot love again; on other men Bestow those heats, more free, that may return You fire for fire, and in one flame equal burn. Amar. Shall I rewarded be so slenderly For my affection, most unkind of men?165 If I were old, or had agreed with art To give another nature to my cheeks, Or were I common mistress to the love Of every swain, or could I with such ease Call back my love as many a wanton doth,170 Thou mightst refuse me, shepherd; but to thee I am only fixt and set; let it not be A sport, thou gentle shepherd, to abuse The love of silly[3425] maid. Peri. Fair soul, ye use These words to little end: for, know, I may175 Better call back that time was yesterday, Or stay the coming night, than bring my love Home to myself again, or recreant prove. I will no longer hold you with delays: This present night I have appointed been180 To meet that chaste fair that enjoys my soul, In yonder grove, there to make up our loves. Be not deceiv’d no longer, choose again: These neighbouring plains have many a comely swain, Fresher and freer[3426] far than I e’er was;185 Bestow that love on them, and let me pass. Farewell: be happy in a better choice! Exit. Amar. Cruel, thou hast struck me deader with thy voice Than if the angry heavens with their quick flames Had shot me through. I must not leave to love, I cannot; no, I must enjoy thee, boy,191 Though the great dangers ’twixt my hopes and that Be infinite. There is a shepherd dwells Down by the moor, whose life hath ever shown More sullen discontent than Saturn’s brow195 When he sits frowning on the births of men; One that doth wear himself away in loneness, And never joys, unless it be in breaking The holy plighted troths of mutual souls; One that lusts after every several beauty,200 But never yet was known to love or like, Were the face fairer or more full of truth Than Phoebe in her fulness, or the youth Of smooth Lyaeus; whose nigh-starved flocks Are always scabby, and infect all sheep205 They feed withal; whose lambs are ever last, And die before their weaning: and whose dog Looks, like his master, lean and full of scurf, Not caring for the pipe or whistle. This man may, If he be well wrought, do a deed of wonder,210 Forcing me passage to my long desires: And here he comes, as fitly to my purpose As my quick thoughts could wish for.

Sull. Shep. Fresh beauty, let me not be thought uncivil, Thus to be partner of your loneness: ’t was215 My love (that ever-working passion) drew Me to this place, to seek some remedy For my sick soul. Be not unkind and fair, For such the mighty Cupid in his doom Hath sworn to be aveng’d on; then, give room To my consuming fires, that so I may221 Enjoy my long desires, and so allay Those flames that else would burn my life away. Amar. Shepherd, were I but sure thy heart were sound As thy words seem to be, means might be found225 To cure thee of thy long pains; for to me That heavy youth-consuming misery The love-sick soul endures never was pleasing. I could be well content with the quick easing Of thee and thy hot fires, might it procure230 Thy faith and farther service to be sure. Sull. Shep. Name but that work, danger, or what can Be compass’d by the wit or art of man; And, if I fail in my performance, may I never more kneel to the rising day!235 Amar. Then, thus I try thee, shepherd. This name night That now comes stealing on, a gentle pair Have promis’d equal love, and do appoint To make yon wood the place where hands and hearts Are to be tied for ever. Break their meeting240 And their strong faith, and I am ever thine. Sull. Shep. Tell me their names, and if I do not move By my great power, the centre of their love From his fixt being, let me never more Warm me by those fair eyes I thus adore.245 Amar. Come; as we go, I ’ll tell thee what they are, And give thee fit directions for thy work. Exeunt.