¶ The Shepheards Consort. +
H Arke iolly Shepheards, harke yond lustie ringing: How cheerefully the Bells daunce, the whilst the Lads are springing? (5) Goe we then, why sit we here delaying: And all yond merrie wanton Lasses playing? How gaily Flora leades it, and sweetly treads it? The woods and Groues they ring, (10) louely resounding: With Ecchoes sweet rebounding.
FINIS. Out of M. Morleys Madrigals.
¶ Thirsis praise of his Mistresse. +
O N a hill that grac’d the plaine Thirsis sate, a comely Swaine , Comelier Swaine nere grac’d a hill: Whilst his Flocke that wandred nie (5) Cropt the greene grasse busilie, Thus he tun’d his Oaten quill.
Ver hath made the pleasant field Many seu’rall odours yeeld, Odors aromaticall;