Enter Priest, and Old Shephe[rd].

Clor.  Go back again what ere thou art, unless Smooth Maiden thoughts possess thee, do not press This hallowed ground.  Go Satyr, take his hand, And give him present trial.

Satyr.  Mortal stand,
Till by fire I have made known
Whether thou be such a one,
That mayst freely tread this place. 
Hold thy hand up; never was
More untainted flesh than this. 
Fairest, he is full of bliss.

Clor.  Then boldly speak, why dost thou seek this place?

Priest.  First, honour’d Virgin, to behold thy face
Where all good dwells that is:  Next for to try
The truth of late report was given to me: 
Those Shepherds that have met with foul mischance,
Through much neglect, and more ill governance,
Whether the wounds they have may yet endure
The open Air, or stay a longer cure. 
And lastly, what the doom may be shall light
Upon those guilty wretches, through whose spight
All this confusion fell:  For to this place,
Thou holy Maiden, have I brought the race
Of these offenders, who have freely told,
Both why, and by what means they gave this bold
Attempt upon their lives.

Clor.  Fume all the ground,
And sprinkle holy water, for unsound
And foul infection ’gins to fill the Air: 
It gathers yet more strongly; take a pair
Of Censors fill’d with Frankincense and Mirrh,
Together with cold Camphyre:  quickly stir
Thee, gentle Satyr, for the place begins
To sweat and labour with the abhorred sins
Of those offenders; let them not come nigh,
For full of itching flame and leprosie
Their very souls are, that the ground goes back,
And shrinks to feel the sullen weight of black
And so unheard of venome; hie thee fast
Thou holy man, and banish from the chast
These manlike monsters, let them never more
Be known upon these downs, but long before
The next Suns rising, put them from the sight
And memory of every honest wight. 
Be quick in expedition, lest the sores
Of these weak Patients break into new gores. [Ex.  Priest.

Per.  My dear, dear Amoret, how happy are
Those blessed pairs, in whom a little jar
Hath bred an everlasting love, too strong
For time, or steel, or envy to do wrong? 
How do you feel your hurts?  Alas poor heart,
How much I was abus’d; give me the smart
For it is justly mine.

Amo.  I do believe. 
It is enough dear friend, leave off to grieve,
And let us once more in despight of ill
Give hands and hearts again.

Per.  With better will
Than e’re I went to find in hottest day
Cool Crystal of the Fountain, to allay
My eager thirst:  may this band never break. 
Hear us O Heaven.

Amo.  Be constant.

Per.  Else Pan wreak,
With [d]ouble vengeance, my disloyalty;
Let me not dare to know the company
Of men, or any more behold those eyes.