The Faithful Shepherdess | Page 6

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 Deer?Far from the feared sound of crooked horn?Dwels in this fastness.
Th. Chaster than the morn,?I have not wandred, or by strong illusion?Into this vertuous place have made intrusion:?But hither am I come (believe me fair)?To seek you out, of whose great good the air?Is full, and strongly labours, whilst the sound?Breaks against Heaven, and drives into a stound?The amazed Shepherd, that such vertue can?Be resident in lesser than a man.
Clor. If any art I have,