d:
I am forsaken, I am cast away.
And left for every lazy Groom to say,
I was unconstant, light, and sooner lost
Than the quick Clouds we see, or the chill Frost
When the hot Sun beats on it. Tell me yet,
Canst thou not love again thy _Amoret_?

_Per_. Thou art not worthy of that blessed name,
I must not know thee, fling thy wanton flame
Upon some lighter blood, that may be hot
With words and feigned passions: _Perigot_
Was ever yet unstain'd, and shall not now
Stoop to the meltings of a borrowed brow.

_Amo_. Then hear me heaven, to whom I call for right,
And you fair twinkling stars that crown the night;
And hear me woods, and silence of this place,
And ye sad hours that move a sullen pace;
Hear me ye shadows that delight to dwell
In horrid darkness, and ye powers of Hell,
Whilst I breath out my last; I am that maid,
That yet untainted _Amoret_, that plaid
The careless prodigal, and gave away
My soul to this young man, that now dares say
I am a stranger, not the same, more wild;
And thus with much belief I was beguil'd.
I am that maid, that have delaid, deny'd,
And almost scorn'd the loves of all that try'd
To win me, but this swain, and yet confess
I have been woo'd by many with no less
Soul of affection, and have often had
Rings, Belts, and Cracknels sent me from the lad
That feeds his flocks down westward; Lambs and Doves
By young _Alexis; Daphnis_ sent me gloves,
All which I gave to thee: nor these, nor they
That sent them did I smile on, or e're lay
Up to my after-memory. But why
Do I resolve to grieve, and not to dye?
Happy had been the stroke thou gav'st, if home;
By this time had I found a quiet room
Where every slave is free, and every brest
That living breeds new care, now lies at rest,
And thither will poor _Amoret_.

_Per_. Thou must.
Was ever any man so loth to trust
His eyes as I? or was there ever yet
Any so like as this to _Amoret_?
For whose dear sake, I promise if there be
A living soul within thee, thus to free
Thy body from it. [_He hurts her again_.

_Amo_. So, this work hath end:
Farewel and live, be constant to thy friend
That loves thee next.

_Enter_ Satyr, Perigot _runs off_.

_Satyr_. See the day begins to break,
And the light shoots like a streak
Of subtil fire, the wind blows cold,
Whilst the morning doth unfold;
Now the Birds begin to rouse,
And the Squirril from the boughs
Leaps to get him Nuts and fruit;
The early Lark that erst was mute,