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 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: