Give me your help for his sake you love best.
Clor. Shepherd, thou canst not possibly take rest,
Till thou hast laid aside all hearts desires
Provoking thought that stir up lusty fires,
Commerce with wanton eyes, strong blood, and will
To execute, these must be purg'd, untill
The vein grow whiter; then repent, and pray
Great Pan to keep you from the like decay,
And I shall undertake your cure with ease.
Till when this vertuous Plaster will displease
Your tender sides; give me your hand and rise:
Help him a little Satyr, for his thighs
Yet are feeble.
Alex. Sure I have lost much blood.
Satyr. 'Tis no matter, 'twas not good.
Mortal you must leave your wooing,
Though there be a joy in doing,
Yet it brings much grief behind it,
They best feel it, that do find it.
Clor. Come bring him in, I will attend his sore When you are well, take heed you lust no more.
Satyr. Shepherd, see what comes of kissing,
By my head 'twere better missing.
Brightest, if there be remaining
Any service, without feigning
I will do it; were I set
To catch the nimble wind, or get
Shadows gliding on the green,
Or to steal from the great Queen
Of Fayries, all her beauty,
I would do it, so much duty
Do I owe those precious Eyes.
Clor. I thank thee honest Satyr, if the cryes
Of any other that be hurt or ill,
Draw thee unto them, prithee do thy will
To bring them hither.
Satyr. I will, and when the weather
Serves to Angle in the brook,
I will bring a silver hook,
With a line of finest silk,
And a rod as white as milk,
To deceive the little fish:
So I take my leave, and wish,
On this Bower may ever dwell
Spring, and Summer.
Clo. Friend farewel. [Exit.
Enter Amoret, seeking her Love.