A LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.

Do 'way your phyfick, I faint no more;
The falve you fent, it comes too late ;
You wift well all my grief before,

And what I fuffer'd for your fake;
Whole is my heart-I plain no more,
A new the cure did undertake,
Wherefore do 'way, you come too late.

For whilft you knew I was your own,
So long in vain you made me gape,
And though my faith it were well known,
Yet fmall regard you took thereat.

But, now the blaft is over-blown

Of vaine phyfick, a falve you shape,
Wherefore do 'way, you come too late.

How long, ere this, have I been fain

Το

gape for mercy at your gate,

Until the time I fpied it plain

For

That pity and you fell at debate.

my redress then was I fain

Your fervice clean for to forfake;

Wherefore do 'way-you come too late.

HARPALUS AND PHILLIDA.

PHILLIDA was a fair maid,
As fresh as any flower;

Whom Harpalus the herdsman pray'd

To be her paramour.

Harpalus, and eke Corin,
Were herdsmen both yfere ;*
And Phillida could twist and spin,
And thereto fing full clear.

But Phillida was all too coy
For Harpalus to win,
For Corin was her only joy.
Who forft + her not a pin.

How often would fhe flowers twine,

How often garlands make

Of cowflips and of Columbine?

And all for Corin's fake.

But Corin he had hawks to lure,

And forfed more the field;

Of lover's law he took no cure,
For once he was beguiled.

Harpalus prevailed nought,

His labour all was loft;

For he was farthest from her thought,
And yet he lov'd her moft.

Therefore wax'd he both pale and lean,

And dry as clot of clay;

His flesh it was confumed clean,

His colour gone away.

His beard it had not long be shave,
His hair hung all unkempt ;*
A man fit even for the grave,
Whom spiteful love had spent.

His eyes were red, and all fore-watch'd,+
His face befprent ‡ with tears;

It seem'd unhap had him long hatch'd,
In midst of his despairs.

His clothes were black, and also bare,

As one forlorn was he;

Upon his head always he ware

A wreath of willow tree.

His beasts he kept upon the hill,

And he fate in the dale;

And thus, with fighs and forrows fhrill,

He 'gan to tell his tale:

Uncombed. † Overwatched, tired with watching. Befprinkled.

"O Harpalus! (this would he fay) Unhappiest under fun!

"The cause of thine unhappy day

By love was firft begun.

"For thou went'st first by suit to seek

"A tiger to make tame;

"That fets not by thy love a leek,

“But makes thy grief her game.

"As eafy it were to convert "The froft into the flame,

"As for to turn a froward heart,

"Whom thou so fain would'st frame.

"Corin he liveth carélefs,

"He leaps among the leaves;

"He eats the fruits of thy redress,* "Thou reaps, he takes the sheaves.

"My beafts, awhile your food refrain, "And hark your herdsman's found, "Whom spiteful love, alas! hath slain, "Through-girt + with many a wound.

"O happy be ye, beastés wild,
"Who here your pasture takes;
"I fee that ye be not beguil'd,
"Of these your faithful makes. ‡

* Labour. + Pierced through.

Mates.

Ꭰ

"The hart he feedeth by the hind,
"The buck hard by the doe,
"The turtle-dove is not unkind
"To him that loves her fo.

"But, welaway! that nature wrought "Thee, Phillida, fo fair;

"For I may fay that I have bought

?

"What reason is that cruelty
"With beauty should have part
"Or elfe that fuch great tyranny
"Should dwell in woman's heart?

"O, Cupid, grant this my request, "And do not ftop thine ears,

"That she may feel within her breast "The pains of my despairs.

"Of Corin that is carélefs

"That she may crave her fee,

“As I have done in great distress

"That lov'd her faithfully.

"But fince that I fhall die her flave,

"Her flave and eke her thrall,

"Write you, my friends, upon my grave,

"This chance that is befall.