_Clo_. And all my fears go with thee. What greatness or what private hidden power, Is there in me to draw submission From this rude man, and beast? sure I am mortal: The Daughter of a Shepherd, he was mortal: And she that bore me mortal: prick my hand And it will bleed: a Feaver shakes me, And the self same wind that makes the young Lambs shrink, Makes me a cold: my fear says I am mortal: Yet I have heard (my Mother told it me) And now I do believe it, if I keep My Virgin Flower uncropt, pure, chaste, and fair, No Goblin, Wood-god, Fairy, Elfe, or Fiend, Satyr or other power that haunts the Groves, Shall hurt my body, or by vain illusion Draw me to wander after idle fires; Or voyces calling me in dead of night, To make me follow, and so tole me on Through mire and standing pools, to find my ruine: Else why should this rough thing, who never knew Manners, nor smooth humanity, whose heats Are rougher than himself, and more mishapen, Thus mildly kneel to me? sure there is a power In that great name of Virgin, that binds fast All rude uncivil bloods, all appetites That break their confines: then strong Chastity Be thou my strongest guard, for here I'le dwell In opposition against Fate and Hell. _Enter an old_ Shepherd, _with him four couple of_ Shepherds _and_ Shepherdesses. _Old Shep_. Now we have done this holy Festival In honour of our great God, and his rites Perform'd, prepare your selves for chaste And uncorrupted fires: that as the Priest, With powerful hand shall sprinkle on [your] Brows His pure and holy water, ye may be From all hot flames of lust, and loose thoughts free. Kneel Shepherds, kneel, here comes the Priest of _Pan_. _Enter_ Priest. _Priest_. Shepherds, thus I purge away, Whatsoever this great day, Or the past hours gave not good, To corrupt your Maiden blood: From the high rebellious heat Of the Grapes, and strength of meat; From the wanton quick desires, They do kindle by their fires, I do wash you with this water, Be you pure and fair hereafter. From your Liver and your Veins, Thus I take away the stains. All your thoughts be smooth and fair, Be ye fresh and free as Air. Never more let lustful heat Through your purged conduits beat, Or a plighted troth be broken, Or a wanton verse be spoken In a Shepherdesses ear; Go your wayes, ye are all clear. [_They rise and sing in praise of_ Pan. The SONG. _Sing his praises that doth keep Our Flocks from harm,_ Pan _the Father of our Sheep, And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round, Whilest the hollow neighbouring ground Fills the Musick with her sound._ Pan, _O great God_ Pan, _to thee Thus do we sing: Thou that keep'st us chaste and free As the young spring, Ever be thy honour spoke, From that place the morn is broke, To that place Day doth unyoke._ [_Exeunt omnes but_ Perigot _and_ Amoret. _Peri_. Stay gentle _Amoret_, thou fair brow'd Maid, Thy Shepherd prays thee stay, that holds thee dear, Equal with his souls good.