Into the details of the night’s adventures there is no call for us to enter; it will be sufficient to detach a few passages from their setting, which can usually be done without material injury.  The whole scenery of the wood, in the densest thicket of which Pan is feasting with his mistress, while about their close retreat the satyr keeps watch and ward, mingling now and again in the action of the mortals, is strongly reminiscent of the Midsummer Night’s Dream.  The wild-wood minister thus describes his charge in the octosyllabic couplets which constitute such a characteristic of the play: 

    Now, whilst the moon doth rule the sky,
    And the stars, whose feeble light
    Give a pale shadow to the night,
    Are up, great Pan commanded me
    To walk this grove about, whilst he,
    In a corner of the wood
    Where never mortal foot hath stood,
    Keeps dancing, music and a feast
    To entertain a lovely guest;
    Where he gives her many a rose
    Sweeter than the breath that blows
    The leaves, grapes, berries of the best;
    I never saw so great a feast. 
    But to my charge.  Here must I stay
    To see what mortals lose their way,
    And by a false fire, seeming-bright,
    Train them in and leave them right. (III. i. 167.)

Perigot’s musing when he meets Amoret and supposes her to be the transformed Amarillis is well conceived; he greets her: 

What art thou dare
Tread these forbidden paths, where death and care
Dwell on the face of darkness? (IV. iv. 15.)

while not less admirable is the pathos of Amoret’s pleading; how she had

     lov’d thee dearer than mine eyes, or that

Which we esteem our honour, virgin state;
Dearer than swallows love the early morn,
Or dogs of chase the sound of merry horn;
Dearer than thou canst love thy new love, if thou hast
Another, and far dearer than the last;
Dearer than thou canst love thyself, though all
The self-love were within thee that did fall
With that coy swain that now is made a flower,
For whose dear sake Echo weeps many a shower!... 
Come, thou forsaken willow, wind my head,
And noise it to the world, my love is dead! (ib. 102.)

Then again we have the lines in which the satyr heralds the early dawn: 

    See, the day begins to break,
    And the light shoots like a streak
    Of subtle fire; the wind blows cold
    Whilst the morning doth unfold. 
    Now the birds begin to rouse,
    And the squirrel from the boughs
    Leaps to get him nuts and fruit;
    The early lark, that erst was mute,
    Carols to the rising day
    Many a note and many a lay. (ib. 165.)

The last act, with its obligation to wind up such loose threads of action as have been spun in the course of the play, is perhaps somewhat lacking in passages of particular beauty, but it yields us Amarillis’ prayer as she flies from the Sullen Shepherd, and the final speech of the satyr.  However out of keeping with character the former of these may be, it is in itself unsurpassed: