Act 4, Scene III

Scene: Part of the Wood with the Holy Well.


This place is ominous; for here I lost
My love and almost life, and since have crost
Ail these woods over; ne'er a nook or dell,
Where any little bird or beast doth dwell,
But I have sought it; ne'er a bending brow
Of any hill, or glade the wind sings through,
Nor a green bank, nor shade where shepherds use
To sit and riddle, sweetly pipe, or choose
Their valentines, that I have missed, to find
My love in. Perigot! Oh, too unkind,
Why hast thou fled me? whither art thou gone?
How have I wronged thee? was my love alone
To thee worthy this scorned recompense? 'Tis well;
I am content to feel it. But I tell
Thee, shepherd, and these lusty woods shall hear,
Forsaken Amoret is yet as clear
Of any stranger fire, as heaven is
From foul corruption, or the deep abyss
From light and happiness; and thou mayst know
All this for truth, and how that fatal blow
Thou gav'st me, never from desert of mine
Fell on my life, but from suspect of thine,
Or fury more than madness: therefore here
Since I have lost my life, my love, my dear,
Upon this cursèd place, and on this green
That first divorced us, shortly shall be seen
A sight of so great pity, that each eye
Shall daily spend his spring in memory
Of my untimely fall.


Of my untimely fall. I am not blind,
Nor is it through the working of my mind
That this shows Amoret. Forsake me, all
That dwell upon the soul, but what men call
Wonder, or, more than wonder, miracle!
For, sure, so strange as this, the oracle
Never gave answer of; it passeth dreams,
Or madmen's fancy, when the many streams
Of new imaginations rise and fall:
'Tis but an hour since these ears heard her call
For pity to young Perigot; whilst he
Directed by his fury, bloodily
Lanched up her breast, which bloodless fell and cold;
And, if belief may credit what was told,
After all this, the Melancholy Swain
Took her into his arms, being almost slain,
And to the bottom of the holy well
Flung her, for ever with the waves to dwell.
'Tis she, the very same; 'tis Amoret,
And living yet; the great powers will not let
Their virtuous love be crossed. [Aside.]—Maid, wipe away
Those heavy drops of sorrow, and allay
The storm that yet goes high, which, not deprest,
Breaks heart and life and all before it rest.
Thy Perigot——
Thy Perigot—— Where, which is Perigot?
Sits there below, lamenting much, God wot,
Thee and thy fortune. Go, and comfort him;
And thou shalt find him underneath a brim
Of sailing pines, that edge yon mountain in.
I go, I run. Heaven grant me I may win
His soul again!

Enter Sullen Shepherd.

Sullen Shepherd.
His soul again! Stay, Amarillis, stay!
You are too fleet; 'tis two hours yet to day.
I have performed my promise; let us sit
And warm our bloods together, till the fit
Come lively on us.
Come lively on us. Friend, you are too keen;
The morning riseth, and we shall be seen;
Forbear a little.
Sullen Shepherd.
Forbear a little. I can stay no longer.
Hold, shepherd, hold! learn not to be a wronger
Of your word. Was not your promise laid,
To break their loves first?
Sullen Shepherd.
To break their loves first? I have done it, maid.
No; they are yet unbroken, met again,
And are as hard to part yet as the stain
Is from the finest lawn.
Sullen Shepherd.
Is from the finest lawn. I say, they are
Now at this present parted, and so far
That they shall never meet.
That they shall never meet. Swain, 'tis not so;
For do but to yon hanging mountain go,
And there believe your eyes.
Sullen Shepherd.
And there believe your eyes. You do but hold
Off with delays and trifles.—Farewell, cold
And frozen bashfulness, unfit for men!—
Thus I salute thee, virgin!
[Attempts to seize her.
Thus i salute thee, virgin! And thus, then,
I bid you follow: catch me if you can!
[Exit running.
Sullen Shepherd.
And, if I stay behind, I am no man!
[Exit, running after her.