Per.  Beshrew my tardy steps:  here shalt thou rest
Upon this holy bank, no deadly Snake
Upon this turf her self in folds doth make. 
Here is no poyson for the Toad to feed;
Here boldly spread thy hands, no venom’d Weed
Dares blister them, no slimy Snail dare creep
Over thy face when thou art fast asleep;
Here never durst the babling Cuckow spit,
No slough of falling Star did ever hit
Upon this bank:  let this thy Cabin be,
This other set with Violets for me.

Ama.  Thou dost not love me Perigot.

Per.  Fair maid, You only love to hear it often said; You do not doubt.

Amar.  Believe me but I do.

Per.  What shall we now begin again to woo?  ’Tis the best way to make your Lover last, To play with him, when you have caught him fast.

Amar.  By Pan I swear, I loved Perigot, And by yon Moon, I think thou lov’st me not.

Per.  By Pan I swear, and if I falsely swear,
Let him not guard my flocks, let Foxes tear
My earliest Lambs, and Wolves whilst I do sleep
Fall on the rest, a Rot among my Sheep. 
I love thee better than the careful Ewe
The new-yean’d Lamb that is of her own hew;
I dote upon thee more than the young Lamb
Doth on the bag that feeds him from his Dam. 
Were there a sort of Wolves got in my Fold,
And one ran after thee, both young and old
Should be devour’d, and it should be my strife
To save thee, whom I love above my life.

Ama.  How shall I trust thee when I see thee chuse Another Bed, and dost my side refuse?

Per.  ’Twas only that the chast thoughts might be shewn ’Twixt thee and me, although we were alone.

Ama.  Come, Perigot will shew his power, that he Can make his Amoret, though she weary be, Rise nimbly from her Couch, and come to his.  Here take thy Amoret, embrace and kiss.

Per.  What means my Love?

Ama.  To do as lovers shou’d,
That are to be enjoy’d, not to be woo’d. 
There’s ne’r a Shepherdess in all the plain
Can kiss thee with more Art, there’s none can feign
More wanton tricks.

Per.  Forbear, dear Soul, to trie Whether my Heart be pure; I’ll rather die Than nourish one thought to dishonour thee.

Amar.  Still think’st thou such a thing as Chastitie
Is amongst Women? Perigot there’s none,
That with her Love is in a Wood alone,
And would come home a maid; be not abus’d
With thy fond first Belief, let time be us’d: 
Why dost thou rise?

Per.  My true heart thou hast slain.

Ama.  Faith Perigot, I’ll pluck thee down again.

Per.  Let go, thou Serpent, that into my brest Hast with thy cunning div’d; art not in Jest?

Ama.  Sweet love, lye down.