DORIS, I love not: yet I hardly bear
Disgraceful terms, which you have spoke in scorn.
You are not loved: and that's the cause I fear.
For why, my Love of JOVE himself was born.
Feeding his sheep of late, amidst this plain.
When as we Nymphs did sport us on the shore:
He scorned you all, my love for to obtain.
That grieved your hearts. I knew as much before.
Nay, smile not Nymphs! The truth I only tell.
For few can brook that others should excel.