Sull. Good holiness declare,
What had the danger been, if being bare
I had embrac'd her, tell me by your Art,
What coming wonders would that sight impart?
Pri. Lust, and a branded Soul.
Sull. Yet tell me more,
Hath not our Mother Nature for her store
And great encrease, said it is good and just,
And wills that every living Creature must
Beget his like?
Pri. Ye are better read than I,
I must confess, in blood and Lechery.
Now to the Bower, and bring this Beast along,
Where he may suffer Penance for his wrong. [Exeunt.
Enter Perigot with his hands bloody.
Per. Here will I wash it in this mornings dew,
Which she on every little grass doth strew
In silver drops against the Sun's appear:
'Tis holy water, and will make me clear.
My hands will not be cleans'd. My wronged Love,
If thy chaste spirit in the air yet move,
Look mildly down on him that yet doth stand
All full of guilt, thy blood upon his hand,
And though I struck thee undeservedly,
Let my revenge on her that injur'd thee
Make less a fault which I intended not,
And let these dew drops wash away my spot.
It will not cleanse. O to what sacred Flood
Shall I resort to wash away this blood?
Amid'st these Trees the holy Clorin dwells
In a low Cabin of cut Boughs, and heals
All Wounds; to her I will my self address,
And my rash faults repentantly confess;
Perhaps she'll find a means by Art or Prayer,
To make my hand with chaste blood stained, fair:
That done, not far hence underneath some Tree,
I'll have a little Cabin built, since she
Whom I ador'd is dead, there will I give
My self to strictness, and like Clorin live. [Exit.
The Curtain is drawn, Clorin appears sitting in the Cabin, Amoret sitting on the one side of her, Alexis and Cloe on the other, the Satyr standing by.
Clo. Shepherd, once more your blood is staid,
Take example by this Maid,
Who is heal'd ere you be pure,
So hard it is lewd lust to cure.
Take heed then how you turn your eye
On each other lustfully:
And Shepherdess take heed lest you
Move his willing eye thereto;
Let no wring, nor pinch, nor smile
Of yours his weaker sense beguile.
Is your Love yet true and chaste,
And for ever so to last?
Alex. I have forgot all vain desires,
All looser thoughts, ill tempred fires,
True Love I find a pleasant fume,
Whose moderate heat can ne'r consume.
Clo. And I a new fire feel in me, Whose chaste flame is not quencht to be.