delicious.

_The_. Right holy Sir, I have not known this night,
What the smooth face of Mirth was, or the sight
Of any looseness; musick, joy, and ease,
Have been to me as bitter drugs to please
A Stomach lost with weakness, not a game
That I am skill'd at throughly; nor a Dame,
Went her tongue smoother than the feet of Time,
Her beauty ever living like the Rime
Our blessed _Tityrus_ did sing of yore,
No, were she more enticing than the store
Of fruitful Summer, when the loaden Tree
Bids the faint Traveller be bold and free,
'Twere but to me like thunder 'gainst the bay,
Whose lightning may enclose but never stay
Upon his charmed branches; such am I
Against the catching flames of Womans eye.

_Priest_. Then wherefore hast thou wandred?

_The_. 'Twas a Vow
That drew me out last night, which I have now
Strictly perform'd, and homewards go to give
Fresh pasture to my Sheep, that they may live.

_Pri_. 'Tis good to hear ye, Shepherd, if the heart
In this well sounding Musick bear his part.
Where have you left the rest?

_The_. I have not seen,
Since yesternight we met upon this green
To fold our Flocks up, any of that train;
Yet have I walkt these Woods round, and have lain
All this same night under an aged Tree,
Yet neither wandring Shepherd did I see,
Or Shepherdess, or drew into mine ear
The sound of living thing, unless it were
The Nightingale among the thick leav'd spring
That sits alone in sorrow, and doth sing
Whole nights away in mourning, or the Owl,
Or our great enemy that still doth howl
Against the Moons cold beams.

_Priest_. Go and beware
Of after falling.

_The_. Father 'tis my care. [_Exit_ Thenot.

_Enter_ Daphnis.

_Old_. Here comes another Stragler, sure I see
A Shame in this young Shepherd. _Daphnis_!

_Daph_. He.

_Pri_. Where hast thou left the rest, that should have been
Long before this, grazing upon the green
Their yet imprison'd flocks?

_Daph_. Thou holy man,
Give me a little breathing till I can
Be able to unfold what I have seen;
Such horrour that the like hath never been
Known to the ear of Shepherd: Oh my heart
Labours a double motion to impart
So heavy tidings! You all know the Bower
Where the chast _Clorin_ lives, by whose great power
Sick men and Cattel have been often cur'd,
There lovely _Amoret_ that was assur'd
To lusty _Perigot_, bleeds out her life,
Forc'd by some Iron hand and fatal knife;
And by her young _Alexis_.

_Enter_ Amaryllis _runnin