Sel. Imagine that thou doo’st not loue mine, (30) But some braue beauty that’s aboue mine.
Sil. To such a thing (sweete) doo not will me: Where faining of the same dooth kill me.
Sel. I see thy firmenesse gentle Louer, More then my beauty can discouer.
Sil. (35) And my good fortune to be higher Then my desert, but not desire.
FINIS. Bar. Yong.
¶ Montanus his Madrigall. +
I T was a Vallie gawdie greene, Where Dian at the Fount was seene, Greene it was, And did passe (5) All other of Dianaes bowers, In the pride of Floraes flowers.
A Fount it was that no Sunne sees, Cirkled in with Cipres trees, Set so nie, (10) As Phaebus eye Could not doo the Virgins scathe, To see them naked when they bathe.
She sate there all in white, Colour fitting her delight, (15) Virgins so Ought to goe: For white in Armorie is plaste To be the colour that is chaste.