Act 5 — [Scene III.][3489]

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 desire6 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

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 may15 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 ambitious25 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 please30 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 stay40 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 give45 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 green50 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 ear55 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 howl60 Against the moon’s cold beams. Priest. Go, and beware Of after-falling. The. Father, ’t is my care. Exit.

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 been65 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 been70 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.

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 still90 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 blot100 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 endure105 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.]

Sull. Shep. Stay thy pace, Most lov’d Amarillis; let the chase110 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 sleek120 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 set125 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 still135 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 bare140 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.150 Exeunt.