_Daph._ There sounds that [blessed] name again, _Enter_ Alexis. And I will meet it: let me not mistake, This is some Shepherd! sure I am awake; What may this riddle mean? I will retire, To give my self more knowledg. _Alex._ Oh my fire, How thou consum'st me! _Cloe,_ answer me, _Alexis_, strong _Alexis_ , high and free, Calls upon _Cloe_. See mine arms are full Of entertainment, ready for to pull That golden fruit which too too long hath hung Tempting the greedy eye: thou stayest too long, I am impatient of these mad delayes; I must not leave unsought these many ways That lead into this center, till I find Quench for my burning lust. I come, unkind. [_Exit_ Alexis. _Daph._ Can my imagination work me so much ill, That I may credit this for truth, and still Believe mine eyes? or shall I firmly hold Her yet untainted, and these sights but bold Illusion? Sure such fancies oft have been Sent to abuse true love, and yet are seen, Daring to blind the vertuous thought with errour. But be they far from me with their fond terrour: I am resolv'd my _Cloe_ yet is true. [Cloe _within._ _Cloe_, hark, _Cloe_: Sure this voyce is new, Whose shrilness like the sounding of a Bell, Tells me it is a Woman: _Cloe_, tell Thy blessed name again. _Cloe_. [_within_] Here. Oh what a grief is this to be so near, And not incounter! _Enter_ Cloe. _Clo._ Shepherd, we are met, Draw close into the covert, lest the wet Which falls like lazy mists upon the ground Soke through your Startups. _Daph._ Fairest are you found? How have we wandred, that the better part Of this good night is perisht? Oh my heart! How have I long'd to meet ye, how to kiss Those lilly hands, how to receive the bliss That charming tongue gives to the happy ear Of him that drinks your language! but I fear I am too much unmanner'd, far too rude, And almost grown lascivious to intrude These hot behaviours; where regard of fame, Honour, and modesty, a vertuous name, And such discourse as one fair Sister may Without offence unto the Brother say, Should rather have been tendred: but believe, Here dwells a better temper; do not grieve Then, ever kindest, that my first salute Seasons so much of fancy, I am mute Henceforth to all discourses, but shall be Suiting to your sweet thoughts and modestie. Indeed I will not ask a kiss of you, No not to wring your fingers, nor to sue To those blest pair of fixed stars for smiles, All a young lovers cunning, all his wiles, And pretty wanton dyings, shall to me Be strangers; only to your chastitie I am devoted ever.