The Faithful Shepherdess | Page 6

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.
Cloe. My name shall be your word.
Alex. Fly, fly thou day. [Exit.
Cloe. My grief is great if both these boyes should fail:
He that will
use all winds must shift his sail. [Exit.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter an old_ Shepherd, with a bell ringing, and the Priest of Pan
following._
Priest. O Shepherds all, and maidens fair,
Fold your flocks up, for the
Air
'Gins to thicken, and the sun
Already his great course hath run.

See the dew-drops how they kiss
Every little flower that is:

Hanging on their velvet heads,
Like a rope of crystal beads.
See the
heavy clouds low falling,
And bright Hesperus down calling
The
dead night from under ground,
At whose rising mists unsound,

Damps, and vapours fly apace,
Hovering o're the wanton face
Of
these pastures, where they come,
Striking dead both bud and bloom;

Therefore from such danger lock
Every one his loved flock,
And
let your Dogs lye loose without,
Lest the Wolf come as a scout

From the mountain, and e're day
Bear a Lamb or kid away,
Or the
crafty theevish Fox,
Break upon your simple flocks:
To secure your
selves from these,
Be not too secure in ease;

Let one eye his
watches keep,
Whilst the t'other eye doth sleep;
So you shall good
Shepherds prove,
And for ever hold the love
Of our great god.

Sweetest slumbers
And soft silence fall in numbers
On your
eye-lids: so farewel,
Thus I end my evenings knel. [Exeunt.
Enter_ Clorin, _the_ Shepherdess, sorting of herbs, and telling the
natures of them._
Clor. Now let me know what my best Art hath done,
Helpt by the
great power of the vertuous moon
In her full light; O you sons of
Earth,
You only brood, unto whose happy birth
Vertue was given,
holding more of nature
Than man her first born and most perfect
creature,
Let me adore you; you that only can
Help or kill nature,
drawing out that span
Of life and breath even to the end of time;

You that these hands did crop, long before prime
Of day; give me
your names, and next your hidden power.
This is the Clote bearing a
yellow flower,
And this black Horehound, both are very good
For
sheep or Shepherd, bitten by a woodDogs
venom'd tooth; these
Ramuns branches are,
Which stuck in entries, or about the bar
That
holds the door fast, kill all inchantments, charms,
Were they Medeas
verses that doe harms
To men or cattel; these for frenzy be
A
speedy and a soveraign remedie,
The bitter Wormwood, Sage, and
Marigold,
Such sympathy with mans good they do hold;
This
Tormentil, whose vertue is to part
All deadly killing poyson from the
heart;
And here Narcissus roots for swellings be:
Yellow Lysimacus,
to give sweet rest
To the faint Shepherd, killing where it comes
All
busie gnats, and every fly that hums:
For leprosie, Darnel, and
Sellondine,
With Calamint, whose vertues do refine
The blood of
man, making it free and fair
As the first hour it breath'd, or the best
air.
Here other two, but your rebellious use
Is not for me, whose
goodness is abuse;
Therefore foul Standergrass, from me and mine
I
banish thee, with lustful Turpentine,
You that intice the veins and stir
the heat
To civil mutiny, scaling the seat
Our reason moves in, and
deluding it
With dreams and wanton fancies, till the fit
Of burning
lust be quencht; by appetite,
Robbing the soul of blessedness and

light:
And thou light Varvin too, thou must go after,
Provoking
easie souls to mirth and laughter;
No more shall I dip thee in water
now,
And sprinkle every post, and every bough
With thy well
pleasing juyce, to make the grooms
Swell with high mirth, as with
joy all the rooms.
Enter Thenot.
The. This is the Cabin where the best of all
Her Sex, that ever
breath'd, or ever shall
Give heat or happiness to the Shepherds side,

Doth only to her worthy self abide.
Thou blessed star, I thank thee for
thy light,
Thou by whose power the darkness of sad night
Is banisht
from the Earth, in whose dull place
Thy chaster beams play on the
heavy face
Of all the world, making the blue Sea smile,
To see how
cunningly thou dost beguile
Thy Brother of his brightness, giving day

Again from Chaos, whiter than that way
That leads to Joves high
Court, and chaster far
Than chastity it self, yon blessed star
That
nightly shines: Thou, all the constancie
That in all women was, or e're
shall be,
From whose fair eye-balls flyes that holy fire,
That Poets
stile the Mother of desire,
Infusing into every gentle brest
A soul of
greater price, and far more blest
Than that quick power, which gives a
difference,
'Twixt man and creatures of a lower sense.
Clor. Shepherd, how cam'st thou hither to this place?
No way is
troden, all the verdant grass
The spring shot up, stands yet unbruised
here
Of any foot, only the dapled