In contraries of such a kinde: Tell me what succour shall I finde?
(65) If then yong Shepheardesse thou craue A Heards-man for thy beast to haue, with grace thou maist restore Thy Shepheard from his barren loue, For neuer other shalt thou proue, (70) that seekes to please thee more: And who to serue thy turne, will neuer shun, The nipping frost, and beames of parching Sun.
FINIS. Bar. Yong.
¶ Corins dreame of his faire Chloris. +
W Hat time bright Titan in the Zenith sat, And equally the fixed poales did heate: When to my flocke my daily woes I chat, And vnderneath a broade Beech tooke my seate. (5) The dreaming God which Morpheus Poets call Augmenting fuell to my Aetnaes fire, With sleepe possessing my weake sences all, In apparitions makes my hopes aspire. Me thought I saw the Nimph I would embrace, (10) With armes abroade comming to me for helpe: A lust-led Satire hauing her in chace, Which after her about the fields did yelpe. I seeing my Loue in such perplexed plight,