Of many sorts, to fill the Shepherds dish.
This holy well, my grandam that is dead,
Right wise in charms, hath often to me said,
Hath power to change the form of any creature,
Being thrice dipt o're the head, into what feature,
Or shape 'twould please the letter down to crave,
Who must pronounce this charm too, which she gave
Me on her death-bed; told me what, and how,
I should apply unto the Patients brow,
That would be chang'd, casting them thrice asleep,
Before I trusted them into this deep.
All this she shew'd me, and did charge me prove
This secret of her Art, if crost in love.
I'le this attempt; now Shepherd, I have here
All her prescriptions, and I will not fear
To be my self dipt: come, my temples bind
With these sad herbs, and when I sleep you find,
As you do speak your charm, thrice down me let,
And bid the water raise me _Amoret_;
Which being done, leave me to my affair,
And e're the day shall quite it self out-wear,
I will return unto my Shepherds arm,
Dip me again, and then repeat this charm,
And pluck me up my self, whom freely take,
And the hotst fire of thine affection slake.

_Sul._ And if I fit thee not, then fit not me:
I long the truth of this wells power to see. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Daphnis._