¶ Faire Phillis and her Sheepheard. +
S Hepheard, saw you not my faire louely Phillis, Walking on this Mountaine, or on yonder plaine? (5) She is gone this way to Dianaes Fountaine, and hath left me wounded, with her high disdaine. Aye me, she is faire, And without compare. (10) Sorrow come and sit with me: +Loue is full of feares, +Loue is full of teares, Loue without these cannot be. Thus my passions paine me, (15) For my loue hath slaine me, Gentle Shepheard beare a part: Pray to Cupids mother , For I know no other that can helpe to ease my smart.