Act 3 — Scene I.[3460]

Sull. Shep. From thy forehead thus I take These herbs, and charge thee not awake Till in yonder holy well Thrice, with powerful magic spell Fill’d with many a baleful word5 Thou hast been dipt. Thus, with my cord Of blasted hemp, by moonlight twin’d I do thy sleepy body bind. I turn thy head unto the east, And thy feet unto the west,10 Thy left arm to the south put forth, And thy right unto the north. I take thy body from the ground, In this deep and deadly swound, And into this holy spring15 I let thee slide down by my string.— [Lets her down into the well.] Take this maid, thou holy pit, To thy bottom; nearer yet; In thy water pure and sweet, By thy leave I dip her feet;20 Thus I let her lower yet, That her ankles may be wet; Yet down lower, let her knee In thy waters washed be; There stop.—Fly away,25 Every thing that loves the day! Truth, that hath but one face, Thus I charm thee from this place. Snakes that cast your coats for new, Chameleons that alter hue,30 Hares that yearly sexes change, Proteus alt’ring oft and strange, Hecate with shapes three, Let this maiden changed be, With this holy water wet,35 To the shape of Amoret! Cynthia, work thou with my charm!— Thus I draw thee, free from harm, [Draws her out of the well, in the shape of Amoret.] Up out of this blessed lake. Rise both like her and awake!40 She awaketh. Amar. Speak, shepherd, am I Amoret to sight? Or hast thou mist in any magic rite, For want of which any defect in me May make our practices discovered be? Sull. Shep. By yonder moon, but that I here do stand,45 Whose breath hath thus transform’d[3461] thee, and whose hand Let thee down dry, and pluckt thee up thus wet, I should myself take thee for Amoret! Thou art in clothes, in feature, voice and hue, So like, that sense cannot distinguish you.50 Amar. Then, this deceit, which cannot crossed be, At once shall lose her him, and gain thee me. Hither she needs must come, by promise made; And, sure, his nature never was so bad, To bid a virgin meet him in the wood,55 When night and fear are up, but understood ’T was his part to come first. Being come, I ’ll say, My constant love made me come first and stay; Then will I lead him further to the grove: But stay you here, and, if his own true love60 Shall seek him here, set her in some wrong path, Which say her lover lately trodden hath; I’ll not be far from hence. If need there be, Here is another charm, whose power will free [Gives a scroll.] The dazzled sense, read by the moonbeams clear,65 And in my own true shape make me appear.

Sull. Shep. Stand close; here’s Perigot, whose constant heart Longs to behold her in whose shape thou art.

Peri. This is the place.—Fair Amoret!—The hour Is yet scarce come. Here every sylvan power70 Delights to be, about yon sacred well, Which they have blest with many a powerful spell; For never traveller in dead of night, Nor stray’d beasts have fall’n in; but when sight Hath fail’d them, then their right way they have found75 By help of them, so holy is the ground, But I will farther seek, lest Amoret Should be first come, and so stray long unmet.— My Amoret, Amoret! Exit. [Amar. coming forward. Perigot!][3462] Peri. [within. ] My love! Amar. I come, my love! Exit. Sull. Shep. Now she hath got Her own desires, and I shall gainer be81 Of my long-lookt-for hopes, as well as she. How bright the moon shines here, as if she strove To show her glory in this little grove, Enter Amoret. To some new-loved shepherd! Yonder is85 Another Amoret. Where differs this From that? But that she Perigot hath met, I should have ta’en this for the counterfeit. Herbs, woods, and springs, the power that in you lies, If mortal men could know your properties!90 Amo. Methinks it is not night; I have no fear, Walking this wood, of lion or of bear, Whose names at other times have made me quake, When any shepherdess in her tale spake Of some of them, that underneath a wood95 Have torn true lovers that together stood; Methinks there are no goblins, and men’s talk, That in these woods the nimble fairies walk, Are fables: such a strong heart I have got Because I come to meet with Perigot.—100 My Perigot! Who ’s that? my Perigot? Sull. Shep. (coming forward.) Fair maid! Amo. Aye me, thou art not Perigot? Sull. Shep. But I can tell you news of Perigot. An hour together under yonder tree He sat with wreathed arms, and call’d on thee And said, “Why, Amoret, stay’st thou so long?”106 Then starting up, down yonder path he flung, Lest thou hadst miss’d thy way. Were it daylight, He could not yet have borne him out of sight. Amo. Thanks, gentle shepherd; and beshrew my stay,110 That made me fearful I had lost my way. As fast as my weak legs (that cannot be Weary with seeking him) will carry me, I’ll follow: and, for this thy care of me,[3463] Pray Pan thy love may ever follow thee! Exit. Sull. Shep. How bright she was, how lovely did she show!116 Was it not pity to deceive her so? She pluckt her garments up, and tript away, And with a virgin-innocence did pray119 For me that perjur’d her. Whilst she was here, Methought the beams of light that did appear Were shot from her; methought the moon gave none But what it had from her. She was alone With me; if then her presence did so move, Why did I not assay to win her love?125 [Would she][3464] not sure have yielded unto me? Women love only opportunity, And not the man; or if she had deni’d, Alone, I might have forc’d her to have tri’d Who had been stronger. Oh, vain fool, to let Such blest occasion pass! I’ll follow yet;131 My blood is up; I cannot now forbear. Enter Alexis and Cloe. I come, sweet Amoret!—Soft, who is here? A pair of lovers? He shall yield her me:134 Now lust is up, alike all women be. [Retires.] Alexis. Where shall we rest? But for the love of me, Cloe, I know, ere this would weary be. Cloe. Alexis, let us rest here, if the place Be private, and out of the common trace Of every shepherd; for, I understood,140 This night a number are about the wood: Then, let us choose some place, where, out of sight, We freely may enjoy our stol’n delight. Alexis. Then, boldly here, where we shall ne’er be found. No shepherd’s way lies here, ’t is hallow’d ground;145 No maid seeks here her strayed cow or sheep; Fairies and fawns and satyrs do it keep. Then, carelessly rest here, and clip and kiss, And let no fear make us our pleasures miss.149 Cloe. Then, lie by me: the sooner we begin, The longer ere the day descry our sin. [They lie down.] Sull. Shep. [coming forward.] Forbear to touch my love; or, by yon flame, The greatest power that shepherds dare to name, Here where thou sit’st, under this holy tree, Her to dishonour, thou shalt buried be!156 Alexis. If Pan himself should come out of the lawns, With all his troops of satyrs and of fawns, And bid me leave, I swear by her two eyes (A greater oath than thine), I would not rise! Sull. Shep. Then, from the cold earth never thou shalt move,160 But lose at one stroke both thy life and love. [Wounds him with his spear.] Cloe. Hold, gentle shepherd! Sull. Shep. Fairest shepherdess, Come you with me; I do not love you less Than that fond man, that would have kept you there From me of more desert. Alexis. Oh, yet forbear165 To take her from me! Give me leave to die By her!

Sat. Now, whilst the moon doth rule the sky, And the stars, whose feeble light Gives a pale shadow to the night, Are up, great Pan commanded me170 To walk this grove about, whilst he, In a corner of the wood, Where never mortal foot hath stood, Keeps dancing, music, and a feast, To entertain a lovely guest;175 Where he gives her many a rose, Sweeter than the breath that blows The leaves; grapes, berries of the best; I never saw so great a feast. But, to my charge. Here must I stay,180 To see what mortals lose their way, And by a false fire, seeming bright, Train them in and leave them right, Then must I watch if any be Forcing of a chastity;185 If I find it, then in haste Give my wreathed horn a blast, And the fairies all will run, Wildly dancing by the moon, And will pinch him to the bone,190 Till his lustful thoughts be gone. Alexis. Oh, death! Sat. Back again about this ground; Sure, I hear a mortal sound.— I bind thee by this powerful spell,195 By the waters of this well, By the glimmering moonbeams bright, Speak again, thou mortal wight! Alexis. Oh! Sat. Here the foolish mortal lies,200 Sleeping on the ground.—Arise!— The poor wight is almost dead; On the ground his wounds have bled, And his clothes foul’d with his blood: To my goddess in the wood205 Will I lead him, whose hands pure Will help this mortal wight to cure. [Exit carrying Alexis.]

Cloe. 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:210 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;215 Yet, till that fearful shape made me begone, 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 this little might220 Crept from the bank for fear of that ill sprite.— Then, where art thou that struck’st my love? Oh, stay! Bring me thyself 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;225 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 small230 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.

Sull. Shep. This was the place. ’T was but my feeble sight, Mixt with the horror of my deed, and night,235 That shapt 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.241 And see, the wounded body is remov’d By her of whom it was so well belov’d. Enter Perigot, and Amarillis in the shape of Amoret. But all these fancies must be quite forgot. I must lie close; here comes young Perigot,245 With subtle Amarillis in the shape Of Amoret. Pray, love, he may not scape! [Retires.] Amar. Beloved Perigot, show me some place, Where I may rest my limbs weak with the chase Of thee, an hour before thou cam’st at least.250 Peri. Beshrew my tardy steps! Here shalt thou rest Upon this holy bank: no deadly snake Upon this turf herself in folds doth make; Here is no poison for the toad to feed; Here boldly spread thy hands; no venom’d weed255 Dares blister them; no slimy snail dare creep Over thy face when thou art fast asleep; Here never durst the babbling cuckoo spit;[3465] No slough of falling star did ever hit Upon this bank: let this thy cabin be;260 This other, set with violets, for me. [They lie down.] Amar. Thou dost not love me, Perigot. Peri. Fair maid, You only love to hear it often said; You do not doubt. Amar. Believe me, but I do. Peri. What, shall we now begin again to woo?265 ’T is the best way to make your lover last, To play with him when you have caught him fast. Amar. By Pan I swear, beloved[3466] Perigot, And by yon moon, I think thou lov’st me not. Peri. By Pan I swear,—and, if I falsely swear,270 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 ewe274 The new-yean’d[3467] lamb that is of her own hue: I dote upon thee more than that young lamb Doth on the bag that feeds him from his dam! Were there a sort[3468] 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.281 Amar. How should I trust thee, when I see thee choose Another bed, and dost my side refuse? Peri. ’T was only that the chaste thoughts might be shown ’Twixt thee and me, although we were alone. Amar. Come, Perigot will show his power, that he286 Can make his Amoret, though she weary be, Rise nimbly from her couch, and come to his. Here, take thy Amoret; embrace and kiss. [Lies down beside him.] Peri. What means my love? Amar. To do as lovers should,290 That are to be enjoy’d, not to be woo’d. There ’s ne’er a shepherdess in all the plain Can kiss thee with more art; there ’s none can feign More wanton tricks. Peri. Forbear, dear soul, to try Whether my heart be pure; I ’ll rather die295 Than nourish one thought to dishonour thee. Amar. Still think ’st thou such a thing as chastity 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.301 [Perigot rises.] Why dost thou rise? Peri. My true heart thou hast slain! Amar. Faith, Perigot, I ’ll pluck thee down again. Peri. Let go, thou serpent, that into my breast Hast with thy cunning div’d!—Art not in jest?305 Amar. Sweet love, lie down. Peri. Since this I live to see, Some bitter north wind blast my flocks and me! Amar. You swore you lov’d, yet will not do my will. Peri. Oh, be as thou wert once, I ’ll love thee still! Amar. I am as still I was, and all my kind; Though other shows we have, poor men to blind.311 Peri. 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!315 [Offers to kill himself with his spear.] Amar. [rising.] Oh, hold thy hands, thy Amoret doth cry! Peri. Thou counsel’st well; first, Amoret shall die, That is the cause of my eternal smart! Amar. Oh, hold! [Exit.] Peri. This steel shall pierce thy lustful heart! [Exit.] running after her. The Sullen Shepherd steps out and un-charms her. Sull. Shep. Up and down, every where,320 I strew the herbs, to purge the air: Let your odour drive hence All mists that dazzle sense. Herbs and springs, whose hidden might Alters shapes, and mocks the sight,325 Thus I charge ye to undo All before I brought ye to! Let her fly, let her scape; Give again her own shape! [Retires.]

Amar. Forbear, thou gentle swain! thou dost mistake;330 She whom thou follow’st fled into the brake, And as I crost thy way, I met thy wrath; The only fear of which near slain me hath. Peri. Pardon, fair shepherdess: my rage and night Were both upon me, and beguil’d my sight:335 But far be it from me to spill the blood Of harmless maids that wander in the wood! Exit Amarillis.

Amo. Many a weary step, in yonder path, Poor hopeless Amoret twice trodden hath, To seek her Perigot; yet cannot hear340 His voice.—My Perigot! She loves thee dear That calls. Peri. See yonder where she is! How fair She shows! and yet her breath infects the air. Amo. My Perigot! Peri. Here. Amo. Happy! Peri. Hapless! first It lights on thee: the next blow is the worst.345 [Wounds her.] Amo. Stay, Perigot! My love, thou art unjust. [Falls.] Peri. Death is the best reward that ’s due to lust. Exit. Sull. Shep. Now shall their love be crost: for, being struck, I’ll throw her in the fount, lest being took By some night-traveller, whose honest care350 May help to cure her.— [Comes forward.] Shepherdess, prepare Yourself 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 be356 At peace, if he but think he injur’d me. Sull. Shep. In this fount be thy grave. Thou wert not meant Sure for a woman, thou art so innocent.— He flings her into the well. She cannot scape, for, underneath the ground,360 In a long hollow the clear spring is bound, Till on yon side, where the morn’s sun doth look, The struggling water breaks out in a brook. Exit.

God of the R. What powerful charms my streams do bring Back again unto their spring,365 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 stays and feeds,370 All have hid them in the weeds. Here ’s a mortal almost dead, Fall’n into my river-head, Hallowed so with many a spell, That till now none ever fell.375 ’T is a female young and clear, Cast in by some ravisher: See, upon her breast a wound, On which there is no plaster bound. Yet, she ’s warm, her pulses beat,380 ’T is 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 watery locks, more round385 Than orient pearl, and far more pure Than unchaste flesh may endure.— See, she pants, and from her flesh The warm blood gusheth out afresh. She is an unpolluted maid;390 I must have this bleeding stay’d. From my banks I pluck this flower With holy hand, whose virtuous power Is at once to heal and draw. The blood returns. I never saw395 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 of the R. I have heal’d thy wounds. Amo. Aye, me!400 God of the R. Fear not him that succour’d thee. I am this fountain’s god: below, My waters to a river grow, And ’twixt two banks with osiers set, That only prosper in the wet,405 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,410 Leaving mortal company, In the cool streams shalt thou lie, Free from harm as well as I: I will give thee for thy food No fish that useth in the mud;415 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,420 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:425 And, to make thee understand How I can my waves command, They shall bubble, whilst I sing, Sweeter than the silver string. [Sings.]

Do not fear to put thy feet430 Naked in the river sweet; Think not leech, or newt, or toad, Will bite thy foot when thou hast trod; Nor let the water rising high, As thou wad’st in, make thee cry435 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 myself unworthy to be woo’d By thee, a god; for ere this, but for thee,440 I should have shown my weak mortality: Besides, by holy oath betwixt us twain, I am betroth’d unto a shepherd-swain, Whose comely face, I know, the gods above May make me leave to see, but not to love.445 God of the R. 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 spring450 Miss their morning’s 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 old455 Offered to my deity; 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 overflown460 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 my course;465 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 dam thy brook; Barefoot may no neighbour wade470 In thy cool streams, wife nor maid, When the spawns on stones do lie, To wash their hemp, and spoil the fry! God of the R. Thanks, virgin. I must down again. Thy wound will put thee to no pain.475 Wonder not so soon ’t is gone; A holy hand was laid upon. [Descends.] Amo. And I, unhappy born to be, Must follow him that flies from me. Exit.