_The_. Thou hadst no fame, that which thou didst like good, Was but thy appetite that sway'd thy blood For that time to the best: for as a blast That through a house comes, usually doth cast Things out of order, yet by chance may come, And blow some one thing to his proper room; So did thy appetite, and not thy zeal, Sway thee [by] chance to doe some one thing well. Yet turn. _Clor_. Thou dost but try me if I would Forsake thy dear imbraces, for my old Love's, though he were alive: but do not fear. _The_. I do contemn thee now, and dare come near, And gaze upon thee; for me thinks that grace, Austeritie, which sate upon that face Is gone, and thou like others: false maid see, This is the gain of foul inconstancie. [_Exit_. _Clor_. 'Tis done, great _Pan_ I give thee thanks for it, What art could not have heal'd, is cur'd by wit. _Enter_ Thenot, _again_. _The_. Will ye be constant yet? will ye remove Into the Cabin to your buried Love? _Clor_. No let me die, but by thy side remain. _The_. There's none shall know that thou didst ever stain Thy worthy strictness, but shall honour'd be, And I will lye again under this tree, And pine and dye for thee with more delight, Than I have sorrow now to know the light. _Clor_. Let me have thee, and I'le be where thou wilt. _The_. Thou art of womens race, and full of guilt. Farewel all hope of that Sex, whilst I thought There was one good, I fear'd to find one naught: But since their minds I all alike espie, Henceforth I'le choose as others, by mine eye. _Clor_. Blest be ye powers that give such quick redress, And for my labours sent so good success. I rather choose, though I a woman be, He should speak ill of all, than die for me. _Actus Quintus. Scena Prima_. _Enter_ Priest, _and old_ Shepherd. _Priest_. Shepherds, rise and shake off sleep, See the blushing Morn doth peep Through the window, whilst the Sun To the mountain tops is run, Gilding all the Vales below With his rising flames, which grow Greater by his climbing still. Up ye lazie grooms, and fill Bagg and Bottle for the field; Clasp your cloaks fast, lest they yield To the bitter North-east wind. Call the Maidens up, and find Who lay longest, that she may Goe without a friend all day; Then reward your Dogs, and pray _Pan_ to keep you from decay: So unfold and then away. What not a Shepherd stirring? sure the grooms Have found their beds too easie, or the rooms Fill'd with such new delight, and heat, that they Have both forgot their hungry sheep, and day; Knock, that they may remember what a shame Sloath and neglect layes on a Shepherds name. _Old Shep_. It is to little purpose, not a swain This night hath known his lodging here, or lain Within these cotes: the woods, or some near town, That is a neighbour to the bordering Down, Hath drawn them thither, 'bout some lustie sport, Or spiced Wassel-Boul, to which resort All the young men and maids of many a cote, Whilst the trim Minstrel strikes his merry note.