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I draw her biding nigh, And sitting downe I sigh, And sighing say: Alas, that birds auow (30) A setled faith, yet Phæbe scornes my smart.
Thus wearie in my walke, and wofull too, I spend the day, fore-spent with daily griefe: Each obiect of distresse My sorrow doth expresse. (35) I doate on that which doth my hart vndoe: And honour her that scornes to yeeld releefe.


¶ Espilus and Therion, their contention in Song
for the May-Ladie.

Espilus. T Vne vp my voyce, a higher note I yeeld, To high conceit, the Song must needes needs be hie: More high then stars, more firme then flintie field Are all my thoughts, in which I liue and die. (5) Sweete soule to whom I vowed am a slaue: Let not wild woods so great a treasure haue.
Therion. The highest note comes oft from basest minde, As shallow Brookes doe yeeld the greatest sound: +Seeke other thoughts thy life or death to finde, (10) Thy starres be falne, plowed is thy flinty ground. Sweet soule, let not a wretch that serueth sheep Among his Flock so sweet a treasure keep.