Ama.  Cruel, thou hast struck me deader with thy Voice
Than if the angry Heavens with their quick flames
Had shot me through:  I must not leave to love,
I cannot, no I must enjoy thee, Boy,
Though the great dangers ’twixt my hopes and that
Be infinite:  there is a Shepherd dwells
Down by the Moor, whose life hath ever shown
More sullen Discontent than Saturns Brow,
When he sits frowning on the Births of Men: 
One that doth wear himself away in loneness;
And never joys unless it be in breaking
The holy plighted troths of mutual Souls: 
One that lusts after [every] several Beauty,
But never yet was known to love or like,
Were the face fairer, or more full of truth,
Than Phoebe in her fulness, or the youth
Of smooth Lyaeus; whose nigh starved flocks
Are always scabby, and infect all Sheep
They feed withal; whose Lambs are ever last,
And dye before their waining, and whose Dog
Looks like his Master, lean, and full of scurf,
Not caring for the Pipe or Whistle:  this man may
(If he be well wrought) do a deed of wonder,
Forcing me passage to my long desires: 
And here he comes, as fitly to my purpose,
As my quick thoughts could wish for.

Enter Shepherd.

Shep.  Fresh Beauty, let me not be thought uncivil,
Thus to be Partner of your loneness:  ’twas
My Love (that ever working passion) drew
Me to this place to seek some remedy
For my sick Soul:  be not unkind and fair,
For such the mighty Cupid in his doom
Hath sworn to be aveng’d on; then give room
To my consuming Fires, that so I may
Enjoy my long Desires, and so allay
Those flames that else would burn my life away.

Ama.  Shepherd, were I but sure thy heart were sound
As thy words seem to be, means might be found
To cure thee of thy long pains; for to me
That heavy youth-consuming Miserie
The love-sick Soul endures, never was pleasing;
I could be well content with the quick easing
Of thee, and thy hot fires, might it procure
Thy faith and farther service to be sure.

Shep.  Name but that great work, danger, or what can
Be compass’d by the Wit or Art of Man,
And if I fail in my performance, may
I never more kneel to the rising Day.

Ama.  Then thus I try thee, Shepherd, this same night,
That now comes stealing on, a gentle pair
Have promis’d equal Love, and do appoint
To make yon Wood the place where hands and hearts
Are to be ty’d for ever:  break their meeting
And their strong Faith, and I am ever thine.

Shep.  Tell me their Names, and if I do not move
(By my great power) the Centre of their Love
From his fixt being, let me never more
Warm me by those fair Eyes I thus adore.

Ama.  Come, as we go, I’ll tell thee what they are, And give thee fit directions for thy work. [Exeunt.