Sweet Phyllis, if a silly swain
May sue to thee for grace,
See not thy loving shepherd slain
With looking on thy face;
But think what power thou hast got
Upon my flock and me;
Thou seest they now regard me not,
But all do follow thee.
And if I have so far presumed,
With prying in thine eyes,
Yet let not comfort be consumed
That in thy pity lies;
But as thou art that Phyllis fair,
That fortune favour gives,
So let not love die in despair
That in thy favour lives.
The deer do browse upon the briar,
The birds do pick the cherries;
And will not Beauty grant Desire
One handful of her berries?
If it be so that thou hast sworn
That none shall look on thee,
Yet let me know thou dost not scorn
To cast a look on me.
But if thy beauty make thee proud,
Think then what is ordain'd;
The heavens have never yet allow'd
That love should be disdain'd.
Then lest the fates that favour love
Should curse thee for unkind,
Let me report for thy behoof,
The honour of thy mind;
Let Corydon with full consent
Set down what he hath seen,
That Phyllida with Love's content
Is sworn the shepherds' queen.
A Report Song in a Dream,
between a shepherd and
his nymph
Shall we go dance the hay? _The hay?_
Never pipe could ever play
Better shepherd's roundelay.
Shall we go sing the song? _The song?_
Never Love did ever wrong.
Fair maids, hold hands all along.
Shall we go learn to woo? _To woo?_
Never thought came ever to[o](?)
Better deed could better do.
Shall we go learn to kiss? _To kiss?_
Never heart could ever miss
Comfort where true meaning is.
Thus at base they run, _They run,_
When the sport was scarce begun;
But I waked, and all was done.