To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
The blushing apple, bashful pear,

And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.
Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
The name of Phillis in the rind

Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.
To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
Be-prank'd with ribbands, to this end,
This, this alluring hook might be
Less for to catch a sheep, than me.
Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
Not made of ale, but spiced wine;
To make thy maids and self free mirth,
All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.
Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
Of winning colours, that shall move
Others to lust, but me to love.

These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
If thou wilt love, and live with me.

All this but the casket is

Which contains

Such a jewel, as to miss

Breeds endless pains,

That's her mind, and they that know it
May admire, but cannot show it.

Disdain Returned

He that loves a rosy cheek
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind,

Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires;
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.

No tears, Celia, now shall win
My resolved heart to return;

I have searched thy soul within

And find naught but pride and scorn;

I have learned thy arts, and now

Can disdain as much as thou.

Song

Would you know what's soft? I dare
Not bring you to the down, or air,
Nor to stars to show what's bright,
Nor to snow to teach you white;

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Nor, if you would music hear,

Call the orbs to take your ear;

'Mongst horrid shapes and shrieks and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell,

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