_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 wood- Dogs 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,