Enter Priest of Pan and Old Shepherd.
Smooth maiden-thoughts possess thee, do not press
This hallowed ground.—Go, Satyr, take his hand,
And give him present trial.
Sat. Mortal, stand,
Till by fire I have made known
Whether thou be such a one
That mayst freely tread
this place.
Hold thy hand up.—Never was
[Applying the Priest’s hand to the taper.
Fairest, he is full of bliss.
Clo. Then boldly speak, why dost thou seek this place?
Priest. First, honoured virgin, to behold thy face,
Where all good dwells that is; next, for to try
The truth
of late report was given to me,—
Those shepherds that have met with foul mischance
Through much
neglect and more ill governance,
Whether the wounds they have may yet endure
The open air, or stay
a longer cure;
And lastly, what the doom may be shall light
Upon those guilty wretches, through whose
spite
All this confusion fell; for to this place,
Thou holy maiden, have I brought the race
Of these offenders,
who have freely told
Both why and by what means they gave this bold
Attempt upon their lives.
Clo. Fume all the ground,
And sprinkle holy water, for unsound
And foul infection ’gins to fill the air:
It
gathers yet more strongly; take a pair
[The Satyr fumes the ground, etc.
Together with cold camphire: quickly stir
Thee, gentle Satyr, for the place begins
To sweat and labour with th’ abhorrèed sins
Of those offenders: let them not come nigh,
For full of itching flame and leprosy
Their very souls are, that the ground goes back,
And shrinks to feel the sullen weight of black
And so unheard-of venom.—Hie thee fast,
Thou holy man, and banish from the chaste
These manlike monsters; let them never more
Be known upon these downs, but, long before
The next sun’s rising, put them from the sight
And memory of every honest wight:
Be quick in expedition, lest the sores
Of these weak patients break into new gores.
[Exit Priest of Pan.
Peri. My dear, dear Amoret, how happy are
Those blessèed pairs, in whom a little jar
Hath bred an everlasting
love, too strong
For time, or steel, or envy to do wrong!
How do you feel your hurts? Alas, poor heart,
How
much I was abused! Give me the smart,
For it is justly mine.
Amo. I do believe:
It is enough, dear friend; leave off to grieve,
And let us once more, in despite of ill,
Give
hands and hearts again.
Peri. With better will
Than e’er I went to find in hottest day
Cool crystal of the fountain, to allay
My eager
thirst. May this band never break!
Hear us, oh, Heaven!
Amo. Be constant.
Peri. Else Pan wreak
With double vengeance my disloyalty!
Let me not dare to know the company
Of
men, or any more behold those eyes!
Amo. Thus, shepherd, with a kiss all envy dies.
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