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قراءة كتاب The Faithful Shepherdess The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (Volume 2 of 10).
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The Faithful Shepherdess The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (Volume 2 of 10).
Amoret
Should be first come, and so stray long unmet.
My Amoret, Amoret. [Ex. Amaryllis, Perigot.
Per. My Love.
Amar. I come my Love. [Exit.
Sull. Now she has got
Her own desires, and I shall gainer be
Of my long lookt for hopes as well as she.
How bright the moon shines here, as if she strove
To show her Glory in this little Grove,
Enter Amoret.
To some new loved Shepherd. Yonder is
Another Amoret. Where differs this
From that? but that she Perigot hath met,
I should have ta'n this for the counterfeit:
Herbs, Woods, and Springs, the power that in you lies,
If mortal men could know your Properties!
Amo. Methinks it is not Night, I have no fear,
Walking this Wood, of Lions, or the Bear,
Whose Names at other times have made me quake,
When any Shepherdess in her tale spake
Of some of them, that underneath a Wood
Have torn true Lovers that together stood.
Methinks there are no Goblins, and mens talk,
That in these Woods the nimble Fairies walk,
Are fables; such a strong heart I have got,
Because I come to meet with Perigot.
My Perigot! who's that, my Perigot?
Sull. Fair maid.
Amo. Ay me, thou art not Perigot.
Sull. But I can tell ye news of Perigot:
An hour together under yonder tree
He sate with wreathed arms and call'd on thee,
And said, why Amoret stayest thou so long?
Then starting up, down yonder path he flung,
Lest thou hadst miss'd thy way: were it day light,
He could not yet have born him out of sight.
Amor. Thanks, gentle Shepherd, and beshrew my stay,
That made me fearful I had lost my way:
As fast as my weak Legs (that cannot be
Weary with seeking him) will carry me,
I'll seek him out; and for thy Courtesie
Pray Pan thy Love may ever follow thee. [Exit.
Sull. How bright she was, how lovely did she show!
Was it not pity to deceive her so?
She pluckt her Garments up, and tript away,
And with her Virgin-innocence did pray
For me that perjur'd her. Whilst she was here,
Methought the Beams of Light that did appear
Were shot from her; methought the Moon gave none,
But what it had from her: she was alone
With me, if then her presence did so move,
Why did not I essay to win her Love?
She would not sure have yielded unto me;
Women love only Opportunitie,
And not the Man; or if she had deny'd,
Alone, I might have forc'd her to have try'd
Who had been stronger: O vain Fool, to let
Such blest Occasion pass; I'll follow yet,
My Blood is up, I cannot now forbear.
Enter Alex, and Cloe.
I come sweet Amoret: Soft who is here?
A pair of Lovers? He shall yield her me;
"Now Lust is up, alike all Women be.
Alex. Where shall we rest? but for the love of me,
Cloe, I know ere this would weary be.
Clo. Alexis, let us rest here, if the place
Be private, and out of the common trace
Of every Shepherd: for I understood
This Night a number are about the Wood:
Then let us chuse some place, where out of sight
We freely may enjoy our stoln delight.
Alex. Then boldly here, where we shall ne're be found,
No Shepherds way lies here, 'tis hallow'd ground:
No Maid seeks here her strayed Cow, or Sheep,
Fairies, and Fawns, and Satyrs do it keep:
Then carelesly rest here, and clip and kiss,
And let no fear make us our pleasures miss.
Clo. Then lye by me, the sooner we begin,
The longer ere the day descry our sin.
Sull. Forbear to touch my Love, or by yon flame,
The greatest power that Shepherds dare to name,
Here where thou sit'st under this holy tree
Her to dishonour, thou shalt buried be.
Alex. If Pan himself, should come out of the lawns,
With all his Troops of Satyrs and of Fawns,
And bid me leave, I swear by her two eyes,
A greater Oath than thine, I would not rise.
Sull. Then from the cold Earth never shalt thou move, But lose at one stroke both thy Life and Love.
Clo. Hold gentle Shepherd.
Sull. Fairest Shepherdess,
Come you with me, I do not love you less
Than that fond man, that would have kept you there
From me of more desert.
Alex. O yet forbear To take her from me; give me leave to dye By her.
[The Satyr enters, he runs one way, and she another.
Sat. Now whilst the Moon doth rule the Skie,
And the Stars, whose feeble light
Give a pale Shadow to the night,
Are up, great Pan commanded me
To walk this Grove about, whilst he
In a corner of the Wood,
Where never mortal foot hath stood,
Keeps dancing, musick, and a feast
To entertain a lovely Guest,
Where he gives her many a Rose,
Sweeter than the breath that blows
The leaves; Grapes, Berries of the best,
I never saw so great a feast.
But to my Charge: here must I stay,
To see what mortals lose their way,
And by a false fire seeming bright,
Train them in and leave them right.
Then must I watch if any be
Forcing of a Chastitie:
If I find it, then in haste
Give my wreathed horn a Blast,
And the Fairies all will run,
Wildly dancing by the Moon,
And will pinch him to the bone,
Till his lustful thoughts be gone.
Alex. O Death!
Sat. Back again about this ground,
Sure I hear a mortal sound;
I bind thee by this powerful Spell,
By the Waters of this Well,
By the glimmering Moon beams bright,
Speak again, thou mortal wight.
Alex. Oh!
Sat. Here the foolish mortal lies,
Sleeping on the ground: arise.
The poor wight is almost dead,
On the ground his wounds have bled,
And his cloaths foul'd with his blood:
To my Goddess in the Wood
Will I lead him, whose hands pure,
Will help this mortal wight to cure.
Enter Cloe again.
Clo. Since I beheld yon shaggy man, my Breast
Doth pant, each bush, methinks, should hide a Beast:
Yet my desire keeps still above my fear,
I would fain meet some Shepherd, knew I where:
For from one cause of fear I am most free,
It is impossible to ravish me,
I am so willing. Here upon this ground
I left my Love all bloody with his wound;
Yet till that fearful shape made me be gone,
Though he were hurt, I furnisht 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 Spright.
Then where art thou that struck'st my love? O stay,
Bring me thy self 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 embrac'd:
But thou art fled. What hope is left for