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 me? 
I’ll run to Daphnis in the hollow tree,
Whom I did mean to mock, though hope be small,
To make him bold; rather than none at all,
I’ll try him; his heart, and my behaviour too
Perhaps may teach him what he ought to do. [Exit.

Enter Sullen Shepherd.

Sul.  This was the place, ’twas but my feeble sight,
Mixt with the horrour of my deed, and night,
That shap’t these fears, and made me run away,
And lose my beauteous hardly gotten prey. 
Speak gentle Shepherdess, I am alone,
And tender love for love:  but she is gone
From me, that having struck her Lover dead,
For silly fear left her alone and fled. 
And see the wounded body is remov’d
By her of whom it was so well belov’d.

Enter Perigot and Amaryllis in the shape of Amoret.

But these fancies must be quite forgot,
I must lye close.  Here comes young Perigot
With subtile Amaryllis in the shape
Of Amoret.  Pray Love he may not ’scape.

Amar.  Beloved Perigot, shew me some place, Where I may rest my limbs, weak with the Chace Of thee, an hour before thou cam’st at least.