Daph.  I’m content to say so, And would be glad to meet, might I but pray so Much from your Fairness, that you would be true.

Clo.  Shepherd, thou hast thy Wish.

Daph.  Fresh Maid, adieu: 
Yet one word more, since you have drawn me on
To come this Night, fear not to meet alone
That man that will not offer to be ill,
Though your bright self would ask it, for his fill
Of this Worlds goodness:  do not fear him then,
But keep your ’pointed time; let other men
Set up their Bloods to sale, mine shall be ever
Fair as the Soul it carries, and unchast never. [Exit.

Clo.  Yet am I poorer than I was before. 
Is it not strange, among so many a score
Of lusty Bloods, I should pick out these things
Whose Veins like a dull River far from Springs,
Is still the same, slow, heavy, and unfit
For stream or motion, though the strong winds hit
With their continual power upon his sides? 
O happy be your names that have been brides,
And tasted those rare sweets for which I pine: 
And far more heavy be thy grief and time,
Thou lazie swain, that maist relieve my needs,
Than his, upon whose liver alwayes feeds
A hungry vultur.

Enter Alexis.

Ale.  Can such beauty be
Safe in his own guard, and not draw the eye
Of him that passeth on, to greedy gaze,
Or covetous desire, whilst in a maze
The better part contemplates, giving rein
And wished freedom to the labouring vein? 
Fairest and whitest, may I crave to know
The cause of your retirement, why ye goe
Thus all alone? methinks the downs are sweeter,
And the young company of swains far meeter,
Than those forsaken and untroden places. 
Give not your self to loneness, and those graces
Hid from the eyes of men, that were intended
To live amongst us swains.

Cloe. Thou art befriended,
Shepherd, in all my life I have not seen
A man in whom greater contents have been
Than thou thy self art:  I could tell thee more,
Were there but any hope left to restore
My freedom lost.  O lend me all thy red,
Thou shamefast morning, when from Tithons bed
Thou risest ever maiden.

Alex. If for me,
Thou sweetest of all sweets, these flashes be,
Speak and be satisfied.  O guide her tongue,
My better angel; force my name among
Her modest thoughts, that the first word may be—­

Cloe. Alexis, when the sun shall kiss the Sea,
Taking his rest by the white Thetis side,
Meet in the holy wood, where I’le abide
Thy coming, Shepherd.

Alex. If I stay behind,
An everlasting dulness, and the wind,
That as he passeth by shuts up the stream
Of Rhine or Volga, whilst the suns hot beam
Beats back again, seise me, and let me turn
To coldness more than ice:  oh how I burn
And rise in youth and fire!  I dare not stay.