The Chorus sung by all.
_Love, I found such felicitie,
And joy, in thy captivitie:
As I before did never prove,
And thought me happy, being in Love._
_Comfort abounding in my hart,
Joy and Delight
In soule and spright
I did possesse in every part;
O Soveraigne Love by thee.
Thy Sacred fires,
Fed my desires,
And still aspires,
Thy happy thrall to bee.
Love, I found such felicity, &c._
_My Song wants power to relate,
The sweets of minde
Which I did finde
In that most blissefull state,
O Soveraigne Love by thee.
No sad despaire,
Or killing care
Could me prepare;
Still thou didst comfort me.
Love, I found such felicity, &c._
_I hate all such as do complaine,
Blaspheming thee
With Cruelty,
And sleights of coy disdaine.
O Soveraigne Love, to mee
Thou hast bene kinde:
If others finde.
Thee worse inclinde,
Yet I will honour thee._
_LOVE, I found such felicitie,
And joy in thy Captivitie:
As I before did never prove,
But thought me happie, being in Love._
Thus the Song of _Pamphilus_ ended, whereto all the rest (as a Chorus)
answered with their Voyces, yet every one particularly (according
as they felt their Love-sicke passions) made a curious construction
thereof, perhaps more then they needed, yet not Divining what
_Pamphilus_ intended. And although they were transported with variety
of imaginations; yet none of them could arrive** at his true meaning
indeed. Wherefore the Queene, perceiving the Song to be fully ended,
and the Ladies, as also the young Gentlemen, willing to go take their
rest: she commaunded them severally to their Chambers.
_The End of the Eight Day._