Act 5, Scene V

Scene: The Wood before Clorin's Bower.

CLORIN discovered setting in the Bower, AMORET sitting on one side of her, ALEXIS and CLOE on the other; the Satyr standing by.

Shepherd, once more your blood is staid:
Take example by this maid,
Who is healed ere you be pure;
So hard it is lewd lust to cure.
Take heed, then, how you turn your eye
On this 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.—
Is your love yet true and chaste,
And for ever so to last?
I have forgot all vain desires,
All looser thoughts, ill-tempered fires:
True love I find a pleasant fume,
Whose moderate heat can ne'er consume.
And I a new fire feel in me,
Whose chaste flame is not quenched to be.
Join your hands with modest touch,
And for ever keep you such.


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.
What art thou that dost call?
Clorin is ready to do good to all:
Come near.
Come near. I dare not.
Come near. I dare not. Satyr, see
Who it is that calls on me.
Satyr. [Coming from the bower.]
There, at hand, some swain doth stand,
Stretching out a bloody hand.
Come, Clorin, bring thy holy waters clear,
To wash my hand.
Clorin. [Coming out.]
What wonders have been here
Tonight! Stretch forth thy hand, young swain;
Wash and rub it, whilst I rain
Holy water.
Holy water. Still you pour,
But my hand will never scour.
Satyr, bring him to the bower:
We will try the sovereign power
Of other waters.
Of other waters. Mortal, sure,
'Tis the blood of maiden pure
That stains thee so.

The Satyr leads him to the Bower, where, seeing AMORET, he kneels down before her.

That stains thee so. 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!
I am thy love,
Thy Amoret, for evermore thy love:
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!
So over-great with joy that you live, now
I am, that no desire of knowing how
Doth seize me. Hast thou still power to forgive?
Whilst thou hast power to love, or I to live:
More welcome now than hadst thou never gone
Astray from me!
Astray from me! And when thou lov'st alone,
And not I thee, death, or some lingering pain
That's worse, light on me!
That's worse, light on me! Now your stain
Perhaps will cleanse thee; once again.
See, the blood that erst did stay,
With the water drops away.
All the powers again are pleased,
And with this new knot are appeased.
Join your hands, and rise together:
Pan be blessed 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
This hallowed ground.—Go, Satyr, take his hand,
And give him present trial.

And give him present trial. Mortal, stand,
Till by fire I have made known
Whether thou be such a one
That mayst freely tread this place.
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.
Then boldly speak, why dost thou seek this place?
Priest of Pan.
First, honoured virgin, to behold thy face,
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
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
Of these offenders, who have freely told
Both why and by what means they gave this bold
Attempt upon their lives.
Attempt upon their lives. Fume all the ground,
And sprinkle holy water, for unsound
And foul infection 'gins to fill the air:
lt gathers yet more strongly; take a pair
[The Satyr fumes the ground, etc.
Of censers filled with frankincense and myrrh,
Together with cold camphire: quickly stir
Thee, gentle Satyr, for the place begins
To sweat and labour with th' abhorrèd sins
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,
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:
Be quick in expedition, lest the sores
Of these weak patients break into new gores.
[Exit Priest of Pan.
My dear, dear Amoret, how happy are
Those blessèd pairs, in whom a little jar
Hath bed an everlasting love, too strong
For time, or steel, or envy to do wrong!
How do you feel your hurts? Alas, poor heart,
How much I was abused! Give me the smart,
For it is justly mine.
For it is justly mine. I do believe:
lt is enough, dear friend; leave off to grieve,
And let us once more, in despite of ill,
Give hands and hearts again.
Give hands and hearts again. With better will
Than e'er I went to find in hottest day
Cool crystal of the fountain, to allay
My eager thirst. Alay this band never break!
Hear us, oh, Heaven!
Hear us, oh, Heaven! Be constant.
Hear us, oh, Heaven! Be constant. Else Pan wreak
With double vengeance my disloyalty!
Let me not dare to know the company
Of men, or any more behold those eyes!
Thus, shepherd, with a kiss all envy dies.

Re-enter Priest of Pan.

Priest of Pan.
Bright maid, I have performed your will. The swain
In whom such heat and black rebellions reign
Hath undergone your sentence and disgrace:
Only the maid I have reserved, whose face
Shows much amendment; many a tear doth fall
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 drownèd lies
In self-consuming care that never dies.
I am content to pardon; call her in.—
[Priest of Pan brings in Amarillis.
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:
If she be pure and good, and firmly stand
To be so still, we have performed a work
Worthy the gods themselves.
Come forward, maiden; do not lurk,
Nor hide your face with grief and shame;
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,
Or hast truly vowed 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:
Thank the gods, and still be good.
Young shepherdess, now you are brought again
To virgin-state, be so, and so remain
To thy last day, unless the faithful love
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 blessèd memory to after-time;
Be famous for your good, not for your crime.—
Now, holy man, I offer up again
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
Of duty in themselves; correct the blood
With thrifty bits and labour: let the flood,
Or the next neighbouring spring, give remedy
To greedy thirst and travail, not the tree
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
To cherish him whose many pains and sweat
Hath given 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;
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.
And all those blessings Heaven did ever give,
We pray upon this bower may ever live.
Priest of Pan.
Kneel, every shepherd, while with powerful hand
I bless your after-labours, and the land
You feed your flocks upon. Great Pan defend you
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,
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;
May his care of you controul
All diseases, sores, or pain,
That in after-time may reign
Either in your flocks or you,
Give ye all affections new,
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
That was the soul and god of melody.
[They sing and strew the ground with flowers
All ye woods, and trees, and bowers,
All ye virtues and ye powers
That inhabit in the lakes,
In the pleasant springs or brakes,
    Move your feet
      To our sound,
    Whilst we greet
      All this ground
With his honour and his name
That defends our flocks from blame.
He is great, and he is just,
He is ever good, and must
Thus be honoured. Daffadillies,
Roses, pinks, and lovèd lilies,
    Let us fling,
    Whilst we sing,
    Ever holy,
    Ever holy,
Ever honoured, ever young!
Thus great Pan is ever sung!
[Exeunt all except Clorin and Satyr.
Thou divinest, fairest, brightest,
Thou most powerful maid and whitest,
Thou most virtuous and most blessèd
Eyes of stars, and golden-tressèd
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, or nimbly take
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
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,
Or steal from Heaven old Orpheus' lute?
All these I'll venture for, and more,
To do her service all these woods adore.
No other service, Satyr, but thy watch
About these thicks, lest harmless people catch
Mischief or sad mischance.
Holy virgin, I will dance
Round about these woods as quick
As the breaking light, and prick
Down the lawns and down the vales
Faster than the windmill-sails.
So I take my leave, and pray
All the comforts of the day,
Such as Phœbus' heat doth send
On the earth, may still befriend
Thee and this arbour!
Thee and this arbour! And to thee
All my master's love be free!