_Sul_. By yonder Moon, but that I here do stand, Whose breath hath thus transform'd thee, and whose hand Let thee down dry, and pluckt thee up thus wet, I should my self take thee for _Amoret_; Thou art in cloths, in feature, voice and hew So like, that sense cannot distinguish you. _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, When night and fear are up, but understood, 'Twas his part to come first: being come, I'le 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 love Shall seek him here, set her in some wrong path, Which say, her lover lately troden hath; I'le not be far from hence, if need there be, Here is another charm, whose power will free The dazeled sense, read by the Moons beams clear, And in my own true map make me appear. _Enter_ Perigot. _Sull_. Stand close, here's _Perigot_, whose constant heart Longs to behold her in whose shape thou art. _Per_. This is the place (fair _Amoret_) the hour Is yet scarce come: Here every Sylvan power Delights to be about yon sacred Well, Which they have blest with many a powerful Spell; For never Traveller in dead of Night, Nor strayed Beasts have faln in, but when sight Hath fail'd them, then their right way they have found 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_. [_Ex_. Amaryllis, Perigot. _Per_. My Love. _Amar_. I come my Love. [_Exit_. _Sull_. Now she has got Her own desires, and I shall gainer be 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 is Another _Amoret_. Where differs this From that? but that she _Perigot_ hath met, I should have ta'n this for the counterfeit: Herbs, Woods, and Springs, the power that in you lies, If mortal men could know your Properties! _Amo_. Methinks it is not Night, I have no fear, Walking this Wood, of Lions, or the Bear, Whose Names at other times have made me quake, When any Shepherdess in her tale spake Of some of them, that underneath a Wood Have torn true Lovers that together stood. Methinks there are no Goblins, and mens 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_. My _Perigot_! who's that, my _Perigot_? _Sull_. Fair maid. _Amo_. Ay me, thou art not _Perigot_.