_Peri_. O do not wrong my honest simple truth, My self and my affections are as pure As those chaste flames that burn before the shrine Of the great _Dian_: only my intent To draw you thither, was to plight our troths, With enterchange of mutual chaste embraces, And ceremonious tying of our selves: For to that holy wood is consecrate A vertuous well, about whose flowry banks, The nimble-footed Fairies dance their rounds, By the pale moon-shine, dipping oftentimes Their stolen Children, so to make them free From dying flesh, and dull mortalitie; By this fair Fount hath many a Shepherd sworn, And given away his freedom, many a troth Been plight, which neither envy, nor old time Could ever break, with many a chaste kiss given, In hope of coming happiness; by this Fresh Fountain many a blushing Maid Hath crown'd the head of her long loved Shepherd With gaudy flowers, whilest he happy sung Layes of his love and dear Captivitie; There grows all Herbs fit to cool looser flames Our sensual parts provoke, chiding our bloods, And quenching by their power those hidden sparks That else would break out, and provoke our sense To open fires, so vertuous is that place: Then gentle Shepherdess, believe and grant, In troth it fits not with that face to scant Your faithful Shepherd of those chaste desires He ever aim'd at, and-- _Amo_. Thou hast prevail'd, farewel, this coming night Shall crown thy chast hopes with long wish'd delight. _Peri_. Our great god _Pan_ reward thee for that good Thou hast given thy poor Shepherd: fairest Bud Of Maiden Vertues, when I leave to be The true Admirer of thy Chastitie, Let me deserve the hot polluted Name Of the wild Woodman, or affect: some Dame, Whose often Prostitution hath begot More foul Diseases, than ever yet the hot Sun bred through his burnings, whilst the Dog Pursues the raging Lion, throwing Fog, And deadly Vapour from his angry Breath, Filling the lower World with Plague and Death. [_Ex._ Am. _Enter_ Amaryllis. _Ama_. Shepherd, may I desire to be believ'd, What I shall blushing tell? _Peri_. Fair Maid, you may. _Am_. Then softly thus, I love thee, _Perigot_, And would be gladder to be lov'd again, Than the cold Earth is in his frozen arms To clip the wanton Spring: nay do not start, Nor wonder that I woo thee, thou that art The prime of our young Grooms, even the top Of all our lusty Shepherds! what dull eye That never was acquainted with desire, Hath seen thee wrastle, run, or cast the Stone With nimble strength and fair delivery, And hath not sparkled fire, and speedily Sent secret heat to all the neighbouring Veins? Who ever heard thee sing, that brought again That freedom back, was lent unto thy Voice; Then do not blame me (Shepherd) if I be One to be numbred in this Companie, Since none that ever saw thee yet, were free.