Before passing on, and in spite of the fact that the play must be familiar to most readers, I here transcribe a few of its most fascinating passages as the best defence Fletcher has to oppose to the objections of his critics.  It is in truth no lame one[270].

In the opening scene Clorin, who has vowed herself to a life of chastity at the grave of her lover, is met by the satyr, who at once bows in worship of her beauty.  He has been sent by Pan to fetch fruits for the entertainment of ‘His paramour the Syrinx bright.’  ’But behold a fairer sight!’ he exclaims on seeing Clorin: 

    By that heavenly form of thine,
    Brightest fair, thou art divine,
    Sprung from great immortal race
    Of the gods, for in thy face
    Shines more awful majesty
    Than dull weak mortality
    Dare with misty eyes behold
    And live.  Therefore on this mould
    Lowly do I bend my knee
    In worship of thy deity.[271] (I. i. 58.)

The next scene takes place in the neighbourhood of the village.  At the conclusion of a festival we find the priest pronouncing blessing upon the assembled people and purging them with holy water[272], after which they disperse with a song.  As they are going, Perigot stays Amoret, begging her to lend an ear to his suit.  He addresses her: 

                    Oh you are fairer far
    Than the chaste blushing morn, or that fair star
    That guides the wandering seaman through the deep,
    Straighter than straightest pine upon the steep
    Head of an aged mountain, and more white
    Than the new milk we strip before day-light
    From the full-freighted bags of our fair flocks,
    Your hair more beauteous than those hanging locks
    Of young Apollo! (I. ii. 60.)

They agree to meet by night in the neighbouring wood, there to bind their love with mutual vows.  The tryst is set where

           to that holy wood is consecrate
    A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks
    The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds
    By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes
    Their stolen children, so to make them free
    From dying flesh and dull mortality. 
    By this fair fount hath many a shepherd sworn,
    And given away his freedom, many a troth
    Been plight, which neither envy nor old time
    Could ever break, with many a chaste kiss given
    In hope of coming happiness. 
    By this fresh fountain many a blushing maid
    Hath crown’d the head of her long-loved shepherd
    With gaudy flowers, whilst he happy sung
    Lays of his love and dear captivity. (I. ii. 99.)

Cloe, repulsed by Thenot, sings her roguishly wanton carol: 

Come, shepherds, come! 
Come away
Without delay,
Whilst the gentle time doth stay. 
Green woods are dumb,
And will never tell to any
Those dear kisses, and those many
Sweet embraces, that are given;
Dainty pleasures, that would even
Raise in coldest age a fire
And give virgin blood desire