Phil. Doubt me not, my true-Loue, doo not feare, farewell then, farewell then, (60) heauen keepe our loues alway. +
¶ The Sheepheards solace. +
P Hæbus delights to view his Laurell tree, The Poplar pleaseth Hercules alone: Melissa mother is and fautrixe to the Bee, Pallas will weare the Oliue branch alone. (5) Of Sheepheards and their flocks Pales is Queene: And Ceres ripes the Corne was lately greene. To Chloris euery flower belongs of right, The Dryade Nimphs of woods make chiefe account: Oreades in hills haue their delight, (10) Diana dooth protect each bubling Fount. To Hebe louely kissing is assign’d: To Zephire euery gentle-breathing wind. But what is Loues delight? To hurt each where He cares not whom, with Darts of deepe desire: (15) With watchfull iealousie, with hope, with feare, With nipping cold, and secret flames of fire. O happy houre, wherein I did forgoe: This little God, + so great a cause of woe.
FINIS. Tho. Watson.