that Venus force imparts But lie content Within a fire and waste away their harts Vp flewe the Dame and vanish'd in a cloud But there stoode I And many thoughts within my mind did shroud My loue for why I felt within my hart a scorching fire And yet as did The Salamander t was my whole desire Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Firmius his Song SHeepheards giue eare and now be still Vnto my passions and their cause and what they be Since that with such an earnest will And such great signes of friendships lawes you aske it me It is not long since I was whole Nor since I did in euery part free-will resigne It is not long since in my sole Possession I did know my hart and to be mine It is not long since euen and morrow All pleasure that my hart could finde was in my power It is not long since greefe and sorrow My louing hart began to binde and to deuoure It is not long since companie I did esteeme a ioy indeede still to frequent Nor long since solitarilie I liu'd and that this life did breede my sole content Desirous I wretched to see But thinking not to see so much as then I sawe Loue made me know in what degree His valour and braue force did touch me with his lawe First he did put no more nor lesse Into my hart then he did view that there did want But when my breast in such excesse Of liuely flames to burne I knew then were so scant My ioyes that now did so abate My selfe estraunged euery way from former rest That I did know that my estate And that my life was euery day in deaths arrest I put my hand into my side To see what was the cause of this vnwonted vaine Where I did finde that torments hied By endlesse death to preiudice my life with paine Because I sawe that there did want My hart wherein I did delight my dearest hart And he that did the same supplant No iurisdiction had of right to play that part The Iudge and Robber that remaine Within my soule their cause to trie are there all one And so the giuer of the paine And he that is condemn'd to die or I or none To die I care not any way Though without why to die I greeue as I doo see But for because I heard her say None die for lone for I beleeue none such there be Then this thou shalt beleeue by me Too late and without remedie as did in briefe Anaxarete and thou shalt see The little she did satisfie with after griefe Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards praise of his sacred Diana PRaysed be Dianaes faire and harmelesse light Praised be the dewes where-with she moists the ground Praised be her beames the glory of the night Prais'd be her power by which all powers abound Prais'd be her Nimphs with whom she decks the vvoods Prais'd be her Knights in whom true honour liues Prais'd be that force by which she mooues the floods Let that Diana shine which all these giues In heauen Queene she is among the Spheares She Mistresse-like makes all things to be pure Eternity in her oft change she beares She beauty is by her the faire endure Time weares her not she dooth his Chariot guide Mortality below her Orbe is plast By her the vertue of the starres downe slide In her is vertues perfect Image cast A knowledge pure it is her woorth to know With Circes let them dwell that thinke not so FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards dumpe LIke desart Woods with darksome shades obscured Where dreadfull beasts where hatefull horror raigneth Such is my wounded hart whom sorrow paineth The Trees are fatall shafts to death inured That cruell loue within my hart maintaineth To whet my greefe when as my sorrow waineth The ghastly beasts my thoughts in cares assured Which wadge me warre whilst hart no succour gaineth With false suspect and feare that still remaineth The horrors burning sighs by cares procured Which foorth I send whilst weeping eye complaineth To coole the heate the helplesse hart containeth But shafts but cares sighs horrors vnrecured Were nought esteem'd if for their paines awarded Your Sheepheards loue might be by you regarded S. E. D. FINIS ¶ The Nimph Dianaes Song WHen that I poore soule was borne I was borne vnfortunate Presently the Fates had sworne To fore-tell my haplesse state Titan his faire beames did hide Phoebe ' clips'd her siluer light In my birth my Mother died Young and faire in heauie plight And the Nurse that gaue me suck Haplesse was in all her life And I neuer had good luck Being mayde or married wife I lou'd well and was belou'd And forgetting was forgot This a haplesse marriage mou'd Greeuing that it kills me not With the earth would I were wed Then in such a graue of woes Daylie to be buried Which no end nor number knowes Young my Father married me Forc'd by my obedience Syrenus thy faith and thee I forgot without offence Which contempt I pay so farre Neuer like was paid so much Iealousies doo make me warre But without a cause of such I doo goe with iealous eyes To my folds and to my Sheepe And with iealousie I rise When the day begins to peepe At his table I doo eate In his bed with him I lie But I take no rest nor meate Without cruell iealousie If I aske him what he ayles And whereof he iealous is In his aunswere then he failes Nothing can he say to this In his face there is no cheere But he euer hangs the head In each corner he dooth peere And his speech is sad and dead Ill the poore soule liues ywis That so hardly married is Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Rowlands Madrigall FAire Loue rest thee heere Neuer yet was morne so cleere Sweete be not vnkinde Let me thy fauour finde Or else for loue I die Harke this pretty bubling spring How it makes the Meadowes ring Loue now stand my friend Heere let all sorrow end And I will honour thee See where little Cupid lyes Looking babies in her eyes Cupid helpe me now Lend to me thy bowe to wound her that wounded me Heere is none to see or tell All our flocks are feeding by This banke with Roses spred Oh it is a dainty bed fit for my Loue and me Harke the birds in yonder Groaue How they chaunt vnto my Loue Loue be kind to me As I haue beene to thee for thou hast wonne my hart Calme windes blow you faire Rock her thou sweete gentle ayre O the morne is noone The euening comes too soone to part my Loue and me The Roses and thy lips doo meete Oh that life were halfe so sweete Who would respect his breath That might die such a death oh that life thus might die All the bushes that be neere With sweet Nightingales beset Hush sweete and be still Let them sing their fill there 's none our ioyes to let Sunne why doo'st thou goe so fast
faire befall the dainty sweete By that flower there is a Bower where the heauenly Muses meete In that Bower there is a chaire frindged all about with gold Where dooth sit the fairest faire that euer eye did yet behold It is Phillis faire and bright shee that is the Sheepheards ioy Shee that Venus did despight and did blind her little boy This is she the wise the rich that the world desires to see This is ipsa quae the which there is none but onely shee Who would not this face admire who would not this Saint adore Who would not this sight desire though he thought to see no more Oh faire eyes yet let me see one good looke and I am gone Looke on me for I am hee thy poore silly Coridon Thou that art the Sheepheards Queene looke vpon thy silly Swaine By thy comfort haue beene seene dead men brought to life againe N. Breton FINIS ¶ Coridon and Melampus Song Cor. MElampus when will Loue be void of feares Mel. When Iealousie hath neither eyes nor eares Cor. Melampus when will Loue be throughly shrieued Mel. When it is hard to speake and not beleeued Cor. Melampus when is Loue most malecontent Mel. When Louers range and beare their bowes vnbent Cor. Melampus tell me when takes Loue least harme Mel. When Swaines sweete pipes are puft and Trulls are warme Cor. Melampus tell me when is Loue best fed Mel. When it hath suck'd the sweet that ease hath bred Cor. Melampus when is time in Loue ill spent Mel. When it earnes meede and yet receaues no rent Cor. Melampus when is time well spent in Loue Mel. When deedes win meedes and words Loues works doo proue Geo. Peele FINIS ¶ Tityrus to his faire Phillis THE silly Swaine whose loue breedes discontent Thinks death a trifle life a loathsome thing Sad he lookes sad he lyes But when his Fortunes mallice dooth relent Then of Loues sweetnes he will sweetly sing thus he liues thus he dyes Then Tityrus whom Loue hath happy made Will rest thrice happy in this Mirtle shade For though Loue at first did greeue him yet did Loue at last releeue him I. D. FINIS ¶ Sheepheard SWeete thrall first step to Loues felicitie Sheepheardesse Sweete thrall no stop to perfect libertie Hee O life Shee What life Hee Sweete life Shee No life more sweete Hee O Loue. Shee What loue Hee Sweete Loue. Shee No loue more meete I. M. FINIS Another of the same Authour FIelds were ouer-spread with flowers Fairest choise of Floraes treasure Sheepheards there had shadie Bowers Where they oft reposd with pleasure Meadowes flourish'd fresh and gay where the wanton Heards did play Springs more cleare then Christall streames Seated were the Groues among Thus nor Titans scorching beames Nor earths drouth could Sheepheards wrong Faire Pomonaes fruitfull pride did the budding braunches hide Flocks of sheepe fed on the Plaines Harmelesse sheepe that roamd at large Heere and there sate pensiue Swaines Wayting on their wandring charge Pensiue while their Lasses smil'd Lasses which had them beguil'd Hills with trees were richly dight Vallies stor'd with Vestaes wealth Both did harbour sweet delight Nought was there to hinder health Thus did heauen grace the soyle Not deform'd with work-mens toile Purest plot of earthly mold Might that Land be iustly named Art by Nature was controld Art which no such pleasures framed Fayrer place was neuer seene Fittest place for Beauties Queene I. M. FINIS ¶ Menaphon to Pesana FAire fields proud Floraes vaunt why i' st you smile when as I languish You golden Meades why striue you to beguile my weeping anguish I liue to sorrow you to pleasure spring why doo ye spring thus What will not Boreas tempests wrathfull King take some pitty on vs And send forth Winter in her rustie weede to waile my bemoanings While I distrest doo tune my Country Reede vnto my groanings But heauen and earth time place and euery power haue with her conspired To turne my blisfull sweete to balefull sower since I this desired The heauen whereto my thoughts may not aspire aye me vnhappie It was my fault t' imbrace my bane the fire that forceth me die Mine be the paine but hers the cruell cause of this strange torment Wherefore no time my banning prayers shall pause till proud she repent Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ A sweete Pastorall GOod Muse rock me a sleepe with some sweet Harmonie This wearie eye is not to keepe thy warie companie Sweete Loue be gone a while thou knowest my heauines Beauty is borne but to beguile my hart of happines See how my little flocke that lou'd to feede on hie Doo headlong tumble downe the Rocke and in the Vallie die The bushes and the trees that were so fresh and greene Doo all their dainty colour leese and not a leafe is seene The Black-bird and the Thrush that made the woods to ring With all the rest are now at hush and not a noate they sing Sweete Philomele the bird that hath the heauenly throate Dooth now alas not once affoord recording of a noate The flowers haue had a frost each hearbe hath lost her sauour And Phillida the faire hath lost the comfort of her fauour Now all these carefull sights so kill me in conceite That how to hope vpon delights it is but meere deceite And therefore my sweete Muse that knowest what helpe is best Doo now thy heauenly cunning vse to set my hart at rest And in a dreame bewray what fate shall be my friend Whether my life shall still denay or when my sorrow end N. Breton FINIS ¶ Harpalus complaynt on Phillidaes loue bestowed on Corin who loued her not and denyed him that loued her PHillida was a faire mayde as fresh as any flower Whom Harpalus the Heards-man prayde to be his Paramour Harpalus and eke Corin were Heard-men both yfere And Phillida could twist and spinne and thereto sing full cleere But Phillida was all too coy for Harpalus to winne For Corin was her onely ioy who forc'd her not a pinne How often would she flowers twine how often garlands make Of Cowslips and of Cullumbine and all for Corins sake But Corin he had Hawkes to lure and forced more the field Of Louers law he tooke no cure for once he was beguild Harpalus preuailed naught his labour all was lost For he was furthest from her thought and yet he lou'd her most Therefore woxe he both pale and leane and drye as clod of clay His flesh it was consumed cleane his colour gone away His beard it had not long beene shaue his haire hung all vnkempt A man most fit euen for the graue whom spitefull Loue had spent His eyes were red and all fore-watcht his face besprent with teares It seem'd vnhap had him long hatcht in midst of his dispaires His cloathes were blacke and also bare as one forlorne was hee Vpon his head he alwayes ware a wreath of Willow-tree His beasts he kept vpon the hill and he sate in the Dale
she doo denie Thus to her replie Venus lawes she must be taught Then with kisses mooue her That 's the way to prooue her thus thy Phillis must be wone She will not forsake thee But her Loue will make thee When Loues duty once is done Happie shall I be If she graunt me fauour Else for loue I die Phillis is so faire Boldly then goe see thou maist quickly haue her Though she should denie yet doo not despaire She is full of pride Venus be my guide helpe a sillie Sheepheards speede Vse no such delay Sheepheard goe thy way venture man and doo the deede I will sore complaine me Say that loue hath slaine thee if her fauours doo not feede But take no deniall Stand vpon thy triall spare to speake and want of speede I. G. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards Song of Venus and Adonis VEnus faire did ride siluer Doues they drew her By the pleasant lawnds ere the Sunne did rise Vestaes beautie rich opend wide to view her Philomel records pleasing Harmonies Euery bird of spring cheerefully did sing Paphos Goddesse they salute Now Loues Queene so faire had of mirth no care for her Sonne had made her mute In her breast so tender He a shaft did enter when her eyes beheld a boy Adonis was he named By his Mother shamed yet he now is Venus ioy Him alone she met ready bound for hunting Him she kindly greetes and his iourney stayes Him she seekes to kisse no deuises wanting Him her eyes still wooe him her tongue still prayes He with blushing red Hangeth downe the head not a kisse can he afford His face is turn'd away Silence sayd her nay still she woo'd him for a word Speake shee said thou fairest Beautie thou impairest see mee I am pale and wan Louers all adore mee I for loue implore thee christall teares with that downe ran Him heere-with shee forc'd to come sit downe by her Shee his necke embrac'de gazing in his face Hee like once transformd stird no looke to eye her Euery hearbe did wooe him growing in that place Each bird with a dittie prayed him for pitty in behalfe of beauties Queene Waters gentle murmour craued him to loue her yet no liking could be seene Boy shee sayd looke on mee Still I gaze vpon thee speake I pray thee my delight Coldly hee replyed And in breefe denyed to bestow on her a sight I am now too young to be wunne by beauty Tender are my yeeres I am yet a bud Fayre thou art shee said then it is thy dutie Wert thou but a blossome to effect my good Euery beauteous flower boasteth in my power Byrds and beasts my lawes effect Mirrha thy faire mother most of any other did my louely hests respect Be with me delighted Thou shalt be requited euery Nimph on thee shall tend All the Gods shall loue thee Man shall not reproue thee Loue himselfe shall be thy freend Wend thee from mee Venus I am not disposed Thou wring'st mee too hard pre-thee let me goe Fie what a paine it is thus to be enclosed If loue begin with labour it will end in woe kisse mee I will leaue heere a kisse receiue a short kisse I doe it find Wilt thou leaue me so yet thou shalt not goe breathe once more thy balmie wind It smelleth of the Mirh-tree That to the world did bring thee neuer was perfume so sweet When she had thus spoken Shee gaue him a token and theyr naked bosoms meet Now hee sayd let 's goe harke the hounds are crying Grieslie Boare is vp Hunts-men follow fast At the name of Boare Venus seemed dying Deadly coloured pale Roses ouer-cast Speake sayd shee no more of following the Boare thou vnfit for such a chase Course the fearefull Hare Venson doe not spare if thou wilt yeeld Venus grace Shun the Boare I pray thee Else I still will stay thee herein he vowed to please her minde Then her armes enlarged Loth shee him discharged forth he went as swift as winde Thetis Phoebus Steedes in the West retained Hunting sport was past Loue her loue did seeke Sight of him too soone gentle Queene shee gained On the ground he lay blood had left his cheeke For an orped Swine smit him in the groyne deadly wound his death did bring Which when Venus found shee fell in a swound and awakte her hands did wring Nimphs and Satires skipping Came together tripping Eccho euery cry exprest Venus by her power Turnd him to a flower which shee weareth in her creast H. C. FINIS ¶ Thirsis the Sheepheard his deaths song THirsis to die desired marking her eyes that to his hart was neerest And shee that with his flame no lesse was fiered sayd to him Oh hart 's loue deerest Alas forbeare to die now By thee I liue by thee I wish to die too Thirsis that heate refrained wherewith to die poore louer then hee hasted Thinking it death while hee his lookes maintained full fixed on her eyes full of pleasure and louely Nectar sweet from them he tasted His daintie Nimph that now at hand espyed the haruest of loues treasure Said thus with eyes all trembling faint and wasted I die now The Sheepheard then replyed and I sweet life doe die too Thus these two Louers foutunately dyed Of death so sweet so happy and so desired That to die so againe their life retired Out of Maister N. Young his Musica Transalpina FINIS ¶ Another stanza added after THirsis enioyed the graces Of Chloris sweet embraces Yet both theyr ioyes were scanted For darke it was and candle-light they wanted Wherewith kinde Cinthia in the heauen that shined her nightly vaile resigned and her faire face disclosed Then each from others lookes such ioy deriued That both with meere delight dyed and reuiued Out of the same FINIS ¶ Another Sonet thence taken ZEphirus brings the time sweetly senteth with flowers and hearbs which Winters frost exileth Progne now chirpeth Philomel lamentesh Flora the Garlands white and red compileth Fields doo reioyce the frowning skie relenteth Ioue to behold his dearest daughter smileth The ayre the water the earth to ioy consenteth each creature now to loue him reconcileth But with me wretch the stormes of woe perseuer and heauie sighs which from my hart she straineth That tooke the key thereof to heauen for euer so that singing of birds and spring-times flowring And Ladies loue that mens affection gaineth are like a Desert and cruell beasts deuouring FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards slumber IN Pescod time when Hound to horne giues eare till Buck be kild And little Lads with pipes of corne sate keeping beasts a field I went to gather Strawberies tho by Woods and Groaues full faire And parcht my face with Phoebus so in walking in the ayre That downe I layde me by a streame with boughs all ouer-clad And there I met the straungest dreame that euer Sheepheard had Me thought I saw each Christmas game each reuell all and some And euery thing that I can name or may in fancie
And thus with sighs and sorrowes shrill he gan to tell his tale Oh Harpalus thus would he say vnhappiest vnder Sunne The cause of thine vnhappy day by loue was first begun For thou went'st first by sute to seeke a Tyger to make tame That sets not by thy loue a Leeke but makes thy greefe a game As easie were it to conuert the frost into a flame As for to turne a froward hart whom thou so faine wouldst frame Corin he liueth carelesse he leapes among the leaues He eates the fruites of thy redresse thou reap'st he takes the sheaues My beasts a-while your food refraine and harke your Heard-mans sound Whom spightfull Loue alas hath slaine through-girt with many a wound Oh happy be ye beasts wild that heere your pasture takes I see that ye be not beguild of these your faithfull makes The Hart he feedeth by the Hind the Bucke hard by the Doe The Turtle-Doue is not vnkind to him that loues her so The Ewe she hath by her the Ram the young Cowe hath the Bull The Calfe with many a lusty Lamb doo feede their hunger full But well-away that Nature wrought thee Phillida so faire For I may say that I haue bought thy beauty all too deare What reason is 't that cruelty with beauty should haue part Or else that such great tirannie should dwell in vvomans hart I see therefore to shape my death she cruelly is prest To th' end that I may want my breath my dayes beene at the best Oh Cupid graunt this my request and doo not stop thine eares That she may feele within her brest the paine of my despaires Of Corin that is carelesse that she may craue her fee As I haue done in great distresse that lou'd her faithfully But since that I shall die her slaue her slaue and eke her thrall Write you my friends vpon my graue this chaunce that is befall Heere lyeth vnhappy Harpalus by cruell Loue now slaine Whom Phillida vniustly thus hath murdred with disdaine L. T. Haward Earle of Surrie FINIS ¶ An other of the same subiect but made as it were in aunswere ON a goodly Sommers day Harpalus and Phillida He a true harted Swaine Shee full of coy disdaine droue their flocks to field He to see his Sheepheardesse She did dreame on nothing lesse Then his continuall care Which to grim-fac'd Dispaire wholely did him yield Corin she affected still All the more thy hart to kill Thy case dooth make me rue That thou should'st loue so true and be thus disdain'd While their flocks a feeding were They did meete together there Then with a curtsie lowe And sighs that told his woe thus to her he plain'd Bide a while faire Phillida List what Harpalus will say Onely in loue to thee Though thou respect not mee yet vouchsafe an eare To preuent ensuing ill Which no doubt betide thee will If thou doo not fore-see To shunne it presentlie then thy harme I feare Firme thy loue is well I wot To the man that loues thee not Louely and gentle mayde Thy hope is quite betrayde which my hart doth greeue Corin is vnkind to thee Though thou thinke contrarie His loue is growne as light As is his Faulcons flight this sweet Nimph beleeue Mopsus daughter that young mayde Her bright eyes his hart hath strayde From his affecting thee Now there is none but shee that is Corins blisse Phillis men the Virgin call She is Buxome faire and tall Yet not like Phillida If I my mind might say eyes oft deeme amisse He commends her beauty rare Which with thine may not compare He dooth extoll her eye Silly thing if thine were by thus conceite can erre He is rauish'd with her breath Thine can quicken life in death He prayseth all her parts Thine winnes a world of harts more if more there were Looke sweet Nimph vpon thy flock They stand still and now feede not As if they shar'd with thee Greefe for this iniurie offred to true loue Pretty Lambkins how they moane And in bleating seeme to groane That any Sheepheards Swaine Should cause their Mistres paine by affects remoue If you looke but on the grasse It 's not halfe so greene as 't was When I began my tale But it is witherd pale all in meere remorce Marke the Trees that brag'd euen now Of each goodly greene-leau'd-bow They seeme as blasted all Ready for Winters fall such is true loues force The gentle murmur of the Springs Are become contrary things They haue forgot their pride And quite forsake their glide as if charm'd they stand And the flowers growing by Late so fresh in euery eye See how they hang the head As on a suddaine dead dropping on the sand The birds that chaunted it yer-while Ere they hear'd of Corins guile Sit as they were afraide Or by some hap dismaide for this wrong to thee Harke sweet Phil how Philomell That was wont to sing so well Iargles now in yonder bush Worser then the rudest Trush as it were not shee Phillida who all this while Neither gaue a sigh or smile Round about the field did gaze As her wits were in a maze poore despised mayd And reuiued at the last After streames of teares were past Leaning on her Sheepheards hooke With a sad and heauie looke thus poore soule she sayd Harpalus I thanke not thee For this sorry tale to mee Meete me heere againe to morrow Then I will conclude my sorrow mildly if may be With their flocks they home doo fare Eythers hart too full of care If they doo meete againe Then what they furder sayne you shall heare from me Shep. Tonie FINIS ¶ The Nimphes meeting their May Queene entertaine her with this Dittie WIth fragrant flowers we strew the way And make this our cheefe holy-day For though this clime were blest of yore Yet was it neuer proud before O beauteous Queene of second Troy Accept of our vnfayned ioy Now th' Ayre is sweeter then sweet Balme And Satires daunce about the Palme Now earth with verdure newly dight Giues perfect signes of her delight O beauteous Queene c. Now birds record new harmonie And trees doo whistle melodie Now euery thing that Nature breedes Dooth clad it selfe in pleasant weedes O beauteous Queene c. Tho. Watson FINIS ¶ Colin Cloutes mournfull Dittie for the death of Astrophell SHeepheards that wunt on pipes of Oaten reede Oft-times to plaine your loues concealed smart And with your pitteous Layes haue learn'd to breede Compassion in a Country-Lasses hart Harken ye gentle Sheepheards to my song And place my dolefull plaint your plaints among To you alone I sing this mournfull verse The mournfulst verse that euer man heard tell To you whose softned harts it may emprerse With dolours dart for death of Astrophell To you I sing and to none other wight For well I wot my rimes been rudely dight Yet as they been if any nicer wit Shall hap to heare or couet them to reade Thinke he that such are for such
one 's most fit Made not to please the liuing but the dead And if in him found pitty euer place Let him be moou'd to pitty such a case Edm. Spencer FINIS ¶ Damaetas Iigge in praise of his Loue. IOlly Sheepheard Sheepheard on a hill on a hill so merrily on a hill so cherily Feare not Sheepheard there to pipe thy fill Fill euery Dale fill euery Plaine both sing and say Loue feeles no paine Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard on a greene on a greene so merrily on a greene so cherily Be thy voyce shrill be thy mirth seene Heard to each Swaine seene to each Trull both sing and say Loues ioy is full Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard in the Sunne in the Sunne so merrily in the Sunne so cherily Sing forth thy songs and let thy rimes runne Downe to the Dales to the hills aboue both sing and say No life to loue Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard in the shade in the shade so merrily in the shade so cherily Ioy in thy life life of Sheepheards trade Ioy in thy loue loue full of glee both sing and say Sweet Loue for me Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard heere or there heere or there so merrily heere or there so cherily Or in thy chat eyther at thy cheere In euery Iigge in euery Lay both sing and say Loue lasts for aye Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard Daphnis Loue Daphnis loue so merrily Daphnis loue so cherily Let thy fancie neuer more remoue Fancie be fixt fixt not to fleete still sing and say Loues yoake is sweete Iohn Wootton FINIS ¶ Montanus praise of his faire Phaebe PHaebe sate Sweete she sate sweete sate Phaebe when I saw her White her brow Coy her eye brow and eye how much you please me Words I spent Sighs I sent sighs and words could neuer draw her Oh my Loue Thou art lost since no sight could euer ease thee Phaebe sate By a Fount sitting by a Fount I spide her Sweete her touch Rare her voyce touch and voyce what may distaine you As she sung I did sigh And by sighs whilst that I tride her Oh mine eyes You did loose her first sight whose want did paine you Phoebes flocks White as wooll yet were Phoebes lookes more whiter Phoebes eyes Doue-like mild Doue-like eyes both mild and cruell Montane sweares In your Lamps he will die for to delight her Phoebe yeeld Or I die shall true harts be fancies fuell Thom. Lodge FINIS ¶ The complaint of Thestilis the forsaken Sheepheard THestilis a silly Swaine when Loue did him forsake In mournfull wife amid the woods thus gan his plaint to make Ah wofull man quoth he falne is thy lot to mone And pine away with carefull thoughts vnto thy Loue vnknowne Thy Nimph forsakes thee quite whom thou didst honour so That aye to her thou wert a friend but to thy selfe a foe Ye Louers that haue lost your harts-desired choyce Lament with me my cruell hap and helpe my trembling voyce Was neuer man that stoode so great in Fortunes grace Nor with his sweate alas too deere possest so high a place As I whose simple hart aye thought himselfe still sure But now I see high springing tides they may not eye endure Shee knowes my guiltlesse hart and yet she lets it pine Of her vntrue professed loue so feeble is the twine What wonder is it then if I berent my haires And crauing death continually doo bathe my selfe in teares When Craesus King of Lide was cast in cruell bands And yeelded goods and life into his enemies hands What tongue could tell his woe yet was his griefe much lesse Then mine for I haue lost my Loue which might my woe redresse Ye woods that shroud my limbs giue now your hollow sound That ye may helpe me to bewaile the cares that me confound Ye Riuers rest a while and stay your streames that runne Rue Thestilis the wofulst man that rests vnder the Sunne Transport my sighs ye winds vnto my pleasant foe My trickling teares shall witnes heare of this my cruell woe Oh happy man were I if all the Gods agreed That now the Sisters three should cut in twaine my fatall threed Till life with loue shall end I heere resigne all ioy Thy pleasant sweete I now lament whose lacke breeds mine annoy Farewell my deere therefore farewell to me well knowne If that I die it shall be sayd that thou hast slaine thine owne L. T. Howard E. of Surrie FINIS ¶ To Phillis the faire Sheepheardesse MY Phillis hath the morning Sunne at first to looke vpon her And Phillis hath morne-waking birds her risings still to honour My Phillis hath prime-featherd flowres that smile when she treads on them And Phillis hath a gallant flocke that leapes since she dooth owne them But Phillis hath too hard a hart alas that she should haue it It yeelds no mercie to desert nor grace to those that craue it Sweete Sunne when thou look'st on pray her regard my moane Sweete birds when you sing to her to yeeld some pitty woo her Sweet flowers that she treads on tell her her beauty deads one And if in life her loue she nill agree me Pray her before I die she will come see me S. E. D. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Dorons ligge THrough the shrubs as I can crack for my Lambs pretty ones mongst many little ones Nimphs I meane whose haire was black As the Crow Like as the Snow Her face and browes shin'd I weene I saw a little one a bonny pretty one As bright buxome and as sheene As was shee On her knee That lull'd the God whose arrowes warmes such merry little ones such faire-fac'd pretty ones As dally in Loues chiefest harmes Such was mine Whose gray eyne Made me loue I gan to wooe this sweete little one this bonny pretty one I wooed hard a day or two Till she bad Be not sad Wooe no more I am thine owne thy dearest little one thy truest pretty one Thus was faith and firme loue showne As behooues Sheepheards Loues Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ Astrophell his Song of Phillida and Coridon FAire in a morne ô fairest morne was neuer morne so faire There shone a Sunne though not the Sunne that shineth in the ayre For the earth and from the earth was neuer such a creature Did come this face was neuer face that carried such a feature Vpon a hill ô blessed hill was neuer hill so blessed There stoode a man was neuer man for vvoman so distressed This man beheld a heauenly view which did such vertue giue As cleares the blind and helps the lame and makes the dead man liue This man had hap ô happy man more happy none then hee For he had hap to see the hap that none had hap to see This silly Swaine and silly Swaines are men of meanest grace Had yet the grace ô gracious guest to hap on such a face He pitty cryed and pitty came and pittied so his paine As dying would not let him die but gaue him life againe For ioy whereof he
thee spoile his hart and inward sences A publique passion Natures lawes restrayning And which with words can neuer be declared A soule twixt loue and feare and desperation And endlesse plaint that shuns all consolation A spendlesse flame that neuer is impaired A friendlesse death yet life in death maintayning A passion that is gayning On him that loueth well and is absented Whereby it is augmented A iealousie a burning greefe and sorrow These fauours Louers borrow Of thee fell Loue these be thy recompences Consuming still their soule and inward sences Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Arsileus replie to Syrenus Song O Let that time a thousand moneths endure Which brings from heauen the sweet and siluer showers And ioyes the earth of comfort late depriued With grasse and leaues fine buds and painted flowers Ecchoe returne vnto the vvoods obscure Ring foorth the Sheepheards Songs in loue contriued Let old loues be reuiued Which angry Winter buried but of late And that in such a state My soule may haue the full accomplishment Of ioy and sweet content And since fierce paines and greefes thou doost controule Good Loue doo not forsake my inward soule Presume not Sheepheards once to make you merrie With springs and flowers or any pleasant Song Vnlesse mild Loue possesse your amorous breasts If you sing not to him your Songs doo wearie Crowne him with flowers or else ye doo him wrong And consecrate your Springs to his behests I to my Sheepheardesse My happy loues with great content doo sing And flowers to her doo bring And sitting neere her by the Riuer side Enioy the braue Spring-tide Since then thy ioyes such sweetnes dooth enroule Good Loue doo not forsake my inward soule The wise in auncient time a God thee nam'd Seeing that with thy power and supreame might Thou didst such rare and mighty wonders make For thee a hart is frozen and enflam'd A foole thou mak'st a wise man with thy light The coward turnes couragious for thy sake The mighty Gods did quake At thy commaund To birds and beasts tranformed Great Monarches haue not scorned To yeeld vnto the force of beauties lure Such spoiles thou doost procure With thy braue force which neuer may be tould With which sweet Loue thou conquer'st euery soule In other times obscurely I did liue But with a drowsie base and simple kinde Of life and onely to my profit bend me To thinke of Loue my selfe I did not giue Or for good grace good parts and gentle minde Neuer did any Sheepheardesse commend me But crowned now they send me A thousand Garlands that I wone with praise In wrastling dayes by dayes In pitching of the barre with arme most strong And singing many a Song After that thou didst honour and take hould Of my sweet Loue and of my happy soule What greater ioy can any man desire Then to remaine a Captiue vnto Loue And haue his hart subiected to his power And though sometimes he tast a little sower By suffering it as mild as gentle Doue Yet must he be in liew of that great hire Whereto he dooth aspire If Louers liue afflicted and in paine Let them with cause complaine Of cruell fortune and of times abuse And let not them accuse Thee gentle-Loue that dooth with blisse enfould Within thy sweetest ioyes each liuing soule Behold a faire sweete face and shining eyes Resembling two most bringht and twinkling starres Sending vnto the soule a perfect light Behold the rare perfections of those white And Iuorie hands from greefes most surest barres That mind wherein all life and glory lyes That ioy that neuer dyes That he dooth feele that loues and is beloued And my delights approoued To see her pleas'd whose loue maintaines me heere All those I count so deere That though sometimes Loue dooth my ioyes controule Yet am I glad he dwels within my soule Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ A Sheepheards dreame A Silly Sheepheard lately sate among a flock of Sheepe Where musing long on this and that at last he fell a sleepe And in the slumber as he lay he gaue a pitteous groane He thought his sheepe were runne away and he was left alone He whoopt he whistled and he call'd but not a sheepe came neere him Which made the Sheepheard sore appall'd to see that none would heare him But as the Swaine amazed stood in this most solemne vaine Came Phillida foorth of the vvood and stoode before the Swaine Whom when the Sheepheard did behold he straite began to weepe And at the hart he grew a cold to thinke vpon his sheepe For well he knew where came the Queene the Sheepheard durst not stay And where that he durst not be seene the sheepe must needes away To aske her if she saw his flock might happen pacience mooue And haue an aunswere with a mock that such demaunders prooue Yet for because he saw her come alone out of the vvood He thought he would not stand as dombe vvhen speach might doo him good And therefore falling on his knees to aske but for his sheepe He did awake and so did leese the honour of his sleepe N. Breton FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards Ode NIghts were short and dayes were long Blossomes on the Hawthorne hong Philomell Night-Musiques King Told the comming of the Spring Whose sweete-siluer-sounding-voyce Made the little birds reioyce Skipping light from spray to spray Till Aurora shew'd the day Scarse might one see when I might see For such chaunces sudden be By a Well of Marble-stone A Sheepheard lying all a-lone Weepe he did and his weeping Made the fading flowers spring Daphnis was his name I weene Youngest Swaine of Sommers Queene When Aurora saw t' was he Weepe she did for companie Weepe she did for her sweet Sonne That when antique Troy was wonne Suffer'd death by lucklesse Fate Whom she now laments too late And each morning by Cocks crewe Showers downe her siluer dewe Whose teares falling from their spring Giue moisture to each liuing thing That on earth encrease and grow Through power of their friendly foe Whose effect when Flora felt Teares that did her bosome melt For who can resist teares often But she whom no teares can soften Peering straite aboue the banks Shew'd her selfe to giue her thanks Wondring thus at Natures worke Wherein many meruailes lurke Me thought I heard a dolefull noyse Consorted with a mournfull voyce Drawing neere to heare more plaine Heare I did vnto my paine For who is not pain'd to heare Him in griefe whom hart holds deere Silly Swaine with griefe ore-gone Thus to make his pitteous mone Loue I did alas the while Loue I did but did beguile My deere Loue with louing so Whom as then I did not know Loue I did the fayrest boy That these fields did ere enioy Loue I did faire Ganimede Venus darling beauties bed Him I thought the fairest creature Him the quintessence of Nature But yet alas I was deceau'd Loue of reason is bereau'd For since then I saw a Lasse Lasse that did in
winds and watry fountaines O all you winged Queristers of vvood that pearcht aloft your former paines report And straite againe recount with pleasant moode your present ioyes in sweete and seemely sort O all you creatures whosoeuer thriue on mother earth in Seas by ayre by fire More blest are you then I heere vnder Sunne loue dies in me when as he dooth reuiue In you I perish vnder beauties ire where after stormes winds frosts your life is wunne Thom. Lodge FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards resolution in loue IF loue him-selfe be subiect vnto Loue And range the vvoods to finde a mortall pray If Neptune from the Seas him-selfe remoue And seeke on sands with earthly wights to play Then may I loue my Sheepheardesse by right Who farre excells each other mortall wight If Pluto could by Loue be drawne from hell To yeeld him-selfe a silly virgins thrall If Phoebus could vouchsafe on earth to dwell To winne a rustick Mayde vnto his call Then how much more should I adore the sight Of her in whom the heauens them-selues delight If Country Pan might follow Nimphs in chase And yet through loue remaine deuoide of blame If Satires were excus'd for seeking grace To ioy the fruites of any mortall Dame My Sheepheardesse why should not I loue still On whom nor Gods nor men can gaze their fill Tho. Watson FINIS ¶ Coridons Hymne in praise of Amarillis WOuld mine eyes were christall Fountaines Where you might the shadow view Of my greefes like to these mountaines Swelling for the losse of you Cares which curelesse are alas Helplesse haplesse for they grow Cares like tares in number passe All the seedes that loue dooth sow Who but could remember all Twinkling eyes still representing Starres which pierce me to the gall Cause they lend no more contenting And you Nectar-lips alluring Humane sence to tast of heauen For no Art of mans manuring Finer silke hath euer weauen Who but could remember this The sweete odours of your fauour When I smeld I was in blisse Neuer felt I sweeter sauour And your harmlesse hart annoynted As the custome was of Kings Shewes your sacred soule appoynted To be prime of earthly things Ending thus remember all Cloathed in a mantle greene T is enough I am your thrall Leaue to thinke what eye hath seene Yet the eye may not so leaue Though the thought doo still repine But must gaze till death bequeath Eyes and thoughts vnto her shrine Which if Amarillis chaunce Hearing to make hast to see To life death she may aduance Therefore eyes and thoughts goe free T. B. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Carillo his Song Guarda mi las Vaccas Carillo por tu fe Besa mi Primero Yo te las guardare IPre-thee keepe my Kine for me Carillo wilt thou Tell. First let me haue a kisse of thee And I will keepe them well If to my charge or them to keepe Thou doost commend thy Kine or Sheepe For thee I doo suffise Because in this I haue beene bred But for so much as I haue fed By viewing thee mine eyes Commaund not me to keepe thy beast Because my selfe I can keepe least How can I keepe I pre-thee tell Thy Kie my selfe that cannot well defend nor please thy kinde As long as I haue serued thee But if thou wilt giue vnto me a kisse to please my minde I aske no more for all my paine And I will keepe them very faine For thee the gift is not so great That I doo aske to keepe thy Neate but vnto me it is A guerdon that shall make me liue Disdaine not then to lend or giue so small a gift as this But if to it thou canst not frame Then giue me leaue to take the same But if thou doost my sweet denie To recompence me by and by thy promise shall relent me Heere-after some reward to finde Behold how I doo please my minde and fauours doo content me That though thou speak'st it but in iest I meane to take it at the best Behold how much loue works in me And how ill recompenc'd of thee that with the shadow of Thy happy fauours though delay'd I thinke my selfe right well appay'd although they prooue a scoffe Then pitty me that haue forgot My selfe for thee that carest not O in extreame thou art most faire And in extreame vniust despaire thy cruelty maintaines O that thou wert so pittifull Vnto these torments that doo pull my soule with sencelesse paines As thou shew'st in that face of thine Where pitty and mild grace should shine If that thy faire and sweetest face Assureth me both peace and grace thy hard and cruell hart Which in that white breast thou doo'st beare Dooth make me tremble yet for feare thou wilt not end my smart In contraries of such a kinde Tell me what succour shall I 〈◊〉 If then young Sheepheardesse thou craue A Heards-man for thy beast to haue with grace thou maist restore Thy Sheepheard from his barren loue For neuer other shalt thou prooue that seekes to please thee more And who to serue thy turne will neuer shun The nipping frost and beames of parching Sun Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Corins dreame of his faire Chloris WHat time bright Titan in the Zenith sat And equally the fixed poales did heate When to my flock my daily woes I chat And vnderneath a broade Beech tooke my seate The dreaming God which Morpheus Poets call Augmenting fuell to my Aetnaes fire With sleepe possessing my weake sences all In apparitions makes my hopes aspire Me thought I saw the Nimph I would embrace With armes abroade comming to me for helpe A lust-led Satire hauing her in chace Which after her about the fields did yelpe I seeing my Loue in such perplexed plight A sturdie bat from off an Oake I reft And with the Rauisher continued fight Till breathlesse I vpon the earth him left Then when my coy Nimph saw her breathlesse foe With kisses kind she gratifies my paine Protesting rigour neuer more to show Happy was I this good hap to obtaine But drowsie slumbers flying to their Cell My sudden ioy conuerted was to bale My wonted sorrowes still with me doo dwell I looked round about on hill and Dale But I could neither my faire Chloris view Nor yet the Satire which yer-while I slew W. S. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Damons passion AH trees why fall your leaues so fast Ah Rocks where are your roabes of mosse Ah Flocks why stand you all agast Trees Rocks and Flocks what are ye pensiue for my losse The birds me thinks tune naught but moane The winds breath naught but bitter plaint The beasts forsake their dennes to groane Birds winds and beasts what dooth my losse your powers attaint Floods weepe their springs aboue their bounds And Eccho wailes to see my woe The roabe of ruthe dooth cloath the grounds Floods Eccho grounds why doo ye all these teares bestow The trees the Rocks and Flocks replie The birds the winds the beasts report Floods Eccho grounds
to you no wealth but you I would But take this beast if beasts you feare to misse For of his beasts the greatest beast he is Both kneeling to her Maiestie Espilus Iudge you to whom all beauties force is lent Therion Iudge you of loue to whom all loue is bent This Song was sung before the Queenes most excellent Maiestie in Wansted Garden as a contentention betweene a Forrester and a Sheepheard for the May-Ladie S. Phil. Sidney FINIS ¶ Olde Melibeus Song courting his Nimph. LOues Queene long wayting for her true-Loue Slaine by a Boare which he had chased Left off her teares and me embraced She kist me sweete and call'd me new-Loue With my siluer haire she toyed In my stayed lookes she ioyed Boyes she sayd breede beauties sorrow Olde men cheere it euen and morrow My face she nam'd the seate of fauour All my defects her tongue defended My shape she prais'd but most commended My breath more sweete then Balme in sauour Be old man with me delighted Loue for loue shall be requited With her toyes at last she wone me Now she coyes that hath vndone me M. F G. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Syluanus his Song MY life young Sheepheardesse for thee Of needes to death must post But yet my greefe must stay with me After my life is lost The greeuous ill by Death that cured is Continually hath remedy at hand But not that torment that is like to this That in slow time and Fortunes meanes dooth stand And if this sorrow cannot be Ended with life at most What then dooth this thing profit me A sorrow wonne or lost Yet all is one to me as now I trie a flattering hope or that that had not been yet For if to day for want of it I die Next day I doo no lesse for hauing seene it Faine would I die to end and free This greefe that kills me most If that it might be lost with me Or die when life is lost Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Coridons Song A Blithe and bonny Country-Lasse heigh hoe bonny-Lasse Sate sighing on the tender grasse and weeping sayd will none come woo me A smicker Boy a lither Swaine heigh hoe a smicker Swaine That in his loue was wanton faine with smiling lookes straite came vnto her When as the wanton Wench espied heigh hoe when she espied The meanes to make her selfe a Bride she simpred smooth like bonnie-bell The Swaine that sawe her squint-eyed kinde heigh hoe squint-eyed kinde His armes about her body twin'd and sayd Faire Lasse how fare ye well The Country-Kit sayd well forsooth heigh hoe well forsooth But that I haue a longing tooth a longing tooth that makes me crie Alas said he what garres thy greefe heigh hoe what garres thy greefe A wound quoth she without releefe I feare a mayde that I shall die If that be all the Sheepheard sayd heigh hoe the Sheepheard sayd I le make thee wiue it gentle Mayde and so recure thy maladie Heereon they kist with many an oath heigh hoe many an oath And fore God Pan did plight their troath so to the Church apace they hie And God send euery pretty peate heigh hoe the pretty peate That feares to die of this conceite so kind a friend to helpe at last Then Maydes shall neuer long againe heigh hoe to long againe When they finde ease for such a paine thus my Roundelay is past Thom. Lodge FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards Sonnet MY fairest Ganimede disdaine me not Though sillie Sheepheard I presume to loue thee Though my harsh Songs and Sonnets cannot mooue thee Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot Apollo Ioue and many Gods beside S'dain'd not the name of Country Sheepheards Swaines Nor want we pleasures though we take some paines We liue contentedly A thing call'd pride Which so corrupts the Court and euery place Each place I meane where learning is neglected And yet of late euen learnings selfe 's infected I know not what it meanes in any case We onely when Molorchus gins to peepe Learne for to fold and to vnfold our Sheepe Rich. Barnefielde FINIS ¶ Seluagia and Siluanus their Song to Diana Sel. I See thee iolly Sheepheard merrie And firme thy faith and sound as a berrie Sil. Loue gaue me ioy and Fortune gaue it As my desire could wish to haue it Sel. What didst thou wish tell me sweete Louer Whereby thou might'st such ioy recouer Sil. To loue where loue should be inspired Since there 's no more to be desired Sel. In this great glory and great gladnes Think'st thou to haue no touch of sadnes Sil. Good Fortune gaue me not such glorie To mock my Loue or make me sorrie Sel. If my firme loue I were denying Tell me with sighs would'st thou be dying Sil. Those words in ieast to heare thee speaking For very griefe this hart is breaking Sel. Yet would'st thou change I pre-thee tell me In seeing one that did excell me Sil. O no for how can I aspire To more then to mine owne desire Sel. Such great affection doo'st thou beare me As by thy words thou seem'st to sweare me Sil. Of thy deserts to which a debter I am thou maist demaund this better Sel. Sometimes me thinks that I should sweare it Sometimes me thinks thou should'st not beare it Sil. Onely in this my hap dooth greeue me And my desire not to beleeue me Sel. Imagine that thou doo'st not loue mine But some braue beauty that 's aboue mine Sil. To such a thing sweete doo not will me Where faining of the same dooth kill me Sel. I see thy firmenesse gentle Louer More then my beauty can discouer Sil. And my good fortune to be higher Then my desert but not desire Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Montanus his Madrigall IT was a Vallie gawdie greene Where Dian at the Fount was seene Greene it was And did passe All other of Dianaes bowers In the pride of Floraes flowers A Fount it was that no Sunne sees Cirkled in with Cipres trees Set so nie As Phaebus eye Could not doo the Virgins scathe To see them naked when they bathe She sate there all in white Colour fitting her delight Virgins so Ought to goe For white in Armorie is plaste To be the colour that is chaste Her taffata Cassock you might see Tucked vp aboue her knee Which did show There below Legges as white as Whales bone So white and chast was neuer none Hard by her vpon the ground Sate her Virgins in a round Bathing their Golden haire And singing all in notes hie Fie on Venus flattering eye Fie on Loue it is a toy Cupid witlesse and a boy All his fires And desires Are plagues that God sent from on hie To pester men with miserie As thus the Virgins did disdaine Louers ioy and Louers paine Cupid nie Did espie Greeuing at Dianaes Song Slily stole these Maydes among His bowe of steele darts of fire He shot amongst them sweete desire Which straite flies In their eyes And at the entraunce made them
a picture fine deface Which he sometime his fancie to beguile had caru'd on bark of Beech in secret place And with despight of most afflicted minde through deepe dispaire of hart for loue dismaid He pull'd euen from the tree the carued rinde and weeping sore these wofull words he said Ah Phillida would God thy picture faire I could as lightly blot out of my brest Then should I not thus rage in deepe dispaire and teare the thing sometime I liked best But all in vaine it booteth not God wot What printed is in hart on tree to blot Out of M. Birds set Songs FINIS ¶ Melisea her Song in scorne of her Sheepheard Narcissus YOung Sheepheard turne a-side and moue Me not to follow thee For I will neither kill with loue Nor loue shall not kill me Since I will liue and neuer show Then die not for my loue I will not giue For I will neuer haue thee loue me so As I doo meane to hate thee while I liue That since the louer so dooth proue His death as thou doo'st see Be bold I will not kill with loue Nor loue shall not kill me Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ His aunswere to the Nimphs Song IF to be lou'd it thee offend I cannot choose but loue thee still And so thy greefe shall haue no end Whiles that my life maintaines my will O let me yet with greefe complaine since such a torment I endure Or else fulfill thy great disdaine to end my life with death most sure For as no credite thou wilt lend and as my loue offends thee still So shall thy sorrowes haue no end whiles that my life maintaines my will If that by knowing thee I could leaue off to loue thee as I doo Not to offend thee then I would leaue off to like and loue thee too But since all loue to thee dooth tend and I of force must loue thee still Thy greefe shall neuer haue an end whiles that my life maintaines my will Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Her present aunswere againe to him ME thinks thou tak'st the worser way Enamoured Sheepheard and in vaine That thou wilt seeke thine owne decay To loue her that dooth thee disdaine For thine owne selfe thy wofull hart Keepe still else art thou much to blame For she to whom thou gau'st each part Of it disdaines to take the same Follow not her that makes a play And iest of all the greefe and paines And seeke not Sheepheard thy decay To loue her that thy loue disdaines Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ His last replie SInce thou to me wert so vnkinde My selfe I neuer loued for I could not loue him in my minde Whom thou faire Mistresse doo'st abhorre If viewing thee I sawe thee not And seeing thee I could not loue thee Dying I should not liue God wot Nor liuing should to anger mooue thee But it is well that I doo finde My life so full of torments for All kinde of ills doo fit his minde Whom thou faire Mistresse doo'st abhorre In thy obliuion buried now My death I haue before mine eyes And heere to hate my selfe I vow As cruell thou doo'st me despise Contented euer thou didst finde Me with thy scornes though neuer for To say the trueth I ioyed in minde After thou didst my loue abhorre Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Philon the Sheepheard his Song WHile that the Sunne with his beames hot Scorched the fruites in vale and mountaine Philon the Sheepheard late forgot Sitting besides a Christall Fountaine In shaddow of a greene Oake tree Vpon his Pipe this Song plaid he Adiew Loue adiew Loue vntrue Loue Vntrue Loue vntrue Loue adiew Loue Your minde is light soone lost for new loue So long as I was in young sight I was as your hart your soule and treasure And euermore you sob'd and sigh'd Burning in flames beyond all measure Three dayes endured your loue to me And it was lost in other three Adiew Loue adiew Loue vntrue Loue. c. Another Sheepheard you did see To whom your hart was soone enchained Full soone your loue was leapt from me Full soone my place he had obtained Soone came a third your loue to win And we were out and he was in Adiew Loue. c. Sure you haue made me passing glad That you your minde so soone remoued Before that I the leysure had To choose you for my best beloued For all my loue was past and done Two dayes before it was begun Adiew Loue. c. Out of M. Birds set Songs FINIS ¶ Lycoris the Nimph her sad Song IN dewe of Roses steeping her louely cheekes Lycoris thus sate weeping Ah Dorus false that hast my hart bereft me And now vnkinde hast left me Heare alas oh heare me Aye me aye me Cannot my beautie mooue thee Pitty yet pitty me Because I loue thee Aye me thou scorn'st the more I pray thee And this thou doo'st and all to slay me Why doo then Kill me and vaunt thee Yet my Ghoast Still shall haunt thee Out of M. Morleyes Madrigalls FINIS ¶ To his Flocks BVrst foorth my teares assist my forward greefe And shew what paine imperious loue prouokes Kinde tender Lambs lament Loues scant releefe And pine since pensiue care my freedom yoakes Oh pine to see me pine my tender Flocks Sad pyning care that neuer may haue peace At Beauties gate in hope of pittie knocks But mercie sleepes while deepe disdaines encrease And Beautie hope in her faire bosome yoakes Oh greeue to heare my greefe my tender Flocks Like to the windes my sighs haue winged beene Yet are my sighs and sutes repaide with mocks I pleade yet she repineth at my teene O ruthlesse rigour harder then the Rocks That both the Sheepheard kills and his poore Flocks FINIS ¶ To his Loue. COme away come sweet Loue The golden morning breakes All the earth all the ayre Of loue and pleasure speakes Teach thine armes then to embrace And sweet Rosie lips to kisse And mixe our soules in mutuall blisse Eyes were made for beauties grace Viewing ruing Loues long paine Procur'd by beauties rude disdaine Come away come sweet Loue The golden morning wasts While the Sunne from his Sphere His fierie arrowes casts Making all the shadowes flie Playing staying in the Groaue To entertaine the stealth of loue Thither sweet Loue let vs hie Flying dying in desire Wing'd with sweet hopes and heauenly fire Come away come sweet Loue Doo not in vaine adiorne Beauties grace that should rise Like to the naked morne Lillies on the Riuers side And faire Cyprian flowers new blowne Desire no beauties but their owne Ornament is Nurse of pride Pleasure measure Loues delight Hast then sweet Loue our wished flight FINIS ¶ Another of his Cinthia AWay with these selfe-louing-Lads Whom Cupids arrowe neuer glads Away poore soules that sigh and weepe In loue of them that lie and sleepe For Cupid is a Meadow God And forceth none to kisse the rod. God Cupids shaft like destenie Dooth eyther good or ill decree Desert