all bloody with his wounds;
Yet, till that fearful shape made me begone,
Though he were hurt, I furnished was of one;
But now both lost.—Alexis, speak or move,
If thou hast any life; thou art yet my love!—
He’s dead, or else is with his little might
Crept from the bank for fear of that ill sprite.—
Then, where art thou that struck’st my love? Oh, stay!
Bring me thyself in change, and then I’ll say
Thou hast some justice: I will make thee trim
With flowers and garlands that were meant for him;
I’ll clip thee round with both mine arms, as fast
As I did mean he should have been embraced.
But thou art fled.—What hope is left for me?
I’ll run to Daphnis in the hollow tree,
Whom I did mean to mock; though hope be small
To make him bold, rather than none at all,
I’ll try him; his heart, and my behaviour too,
Perhaps may teach him what he ought to do.

[Exit.

Re-enter Sullen Shepherd.

Sull. Shep. This was the place. ’Twas but my feeble sight,
Mixed with the horror of my deed, and night,
That shaped these fears, and made me run away,
And lose my beauteous hardly-gotten prey.—
Speak, gentle shepherdess! I am alone,
And tender love for love.—But she is gone
From me, that, having struck her lover dead,
For silly fear left her alone, and fled.
And see, the wounded body is removed
By her of whom it was so well beloved.
But all these fancies must be quite forgot.
I must lie close; here comes young Perigot,
With subtle Amarillis in the shape
Of Amoret. Pray, love, he may not ’scape!

[Retires.

Enter Perigot, and Amarillis in the shape of Amoret.

Amar. Belovèed Perigot, show me some place,
Where I may rest my limbs, weak with the chase
Of thee, an hour before thou cam’st at least.

Peri. Beshrew my tardy steps! Here shalt thou rest
Upon this holy bank: no deadly snake
Upon this turf herself in folds doth make;
Here is no poison for the toad to feed;
Here boldly spread thy hands; no venomed weed
Dares blister them; no slimy snail dare creep
Over thy face when thou art fast asleep;
Here never durst the dabbling cuckoo spit;
No slough of falling star did ever hit
Upon this bank: let this thy cabin be;
This other, set with violets, for me.

[They lie down.

Amar. Thou dost not love me, Perigot.

Peri. Fair maid,
You only love to hear it often said;
You do not doubt.

Amar. Believe me, but I do.

Peri. What, shall we now begin again to woo?
’Tis the best way to make your lover last,
To play with him when you have caught him fast.

Amar. By Pan I swear, belovèed Perigot,
And by yon moon, I think thou lov’st me not.

Peri. By Pan I swear,—and, if I falsely swear,
Let him not guard my flock; let foxes tear
My earliest lambs, and wolves, whilst I do sleep,
Fall on the rest; a rot among my sheep,—
I love thee better than the careful ewe
The new-yeaned lamb that is of her own hue;
I dote upon thee more than that young lamb
Doth on the bag that feeds him from his dam!
Were there a sort of wolves got in my fold,
And one ran after thee, both young and old
Should be devoured, and it should be my strife
To save thee, whom I love above my life.

Amar. How should I trust thee, when I see thee choose
Another bed, and dost my side refuse?