The Faithful Shepherdess. Beaumont Francis

      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.

      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,

      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.

      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