Here comes another: better be my speed, Thou god of Blood: but certain, if I read Not false, this is that modest Shepherd, he That only dare salute, but ne'r could be Brought to kiss any, hold discourse, or sing, Whisper, or boldly ask that wished thing We all are born for; one that makes loving Faces, And could be well content to covet Graces, Were they not got by boldness; in this thing My hopes are frozen; and but Fate doth bring Him hither, I would sooner chuse A Man made out of Snow, and freer use An Eunuch to my ends: but since he's here, Thus I attempt him. Thou of men most dear, Welcome to her, that only for thy sake, Hath been content to live: here boldly take My hand in pledg, this hand, that never yet Was given away to any: and but sit Down on this rushy Bank, whilst I go pull Fresh Blossoms from the Boughs, or quickly cull The choicest delicates from yonder Mead, To make thee Chains, or Chaplets, or to spread Under our fainting Bodies, when delight Shall lock up all our senses. How the sight Of those smooth rising Cheeks renew the story Of young _Adonis_, when in Pride and Glory He lay infolded 'twixt the beating arms Of willing _Venus_: methinks stronger Charms Dwell in those speaking eyes, and on that brow More sweetness than the Painters can allow To their best pieces: not _Narcissus_, he That wept himself away in memorie Of his own Beauty, nor _Silvanus_ Boy, Nor the twice ravish'd Maid, for whom old _Troy_ Fell by the hand of _Pirrhus_, may to thee Be otherwise compar'd, than some dead Tree To a young fruitful Olive. _Daph_. I can love, But I am loth to say so, lest I prove Too soon unhappy. _Clo_. Happy thou would'st say, My dearest _Daphnis_, blush not, if the day To thee and thy soft heats be enemie, Then take the coming Night, fair youth 'tis free To all the World, Shepherd, I'll meet thee then When darkness hath shut up the eyes of men, In yonder Grove: speak, shall our Meeting hold? Indeed you are too bashful, be more bold, And tell me I. _Daph_. I'm content to say so, And would be glad to meet, might I but pray so Much from your Fairness, that you would be true. _Clo_. Shepherd, thou hast thy Wish. _Daph_. Fresh Maid, adieu: Yet one word more, since you have drawn me on To come this Night, fear not to meet alone That man that will not offer to be ill, Though your bright self would ask it, for his fill Of this Worlds goodness: do not fear him then, But keep your 'pointed time; let other men Set up their Bloods to sale, mine shall be ever Fair as the Soul it carries, and unchast never. [_Exit_.