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Syl. Come make an end, no cause omit, (10) Of all the ioyes that thou art in:
Arsil. H ow should I make an end of it, That am not able to begin?
Syl. It is not iust, we should consent, That thou should’st not thy ioyes recite:
Arsil. (15) The soule that felt the punishment, Dooth onely feele this great delight.
Syl. That ioy is small, and nothing fine, That is not told abroade to manie:
Arsil. If it be such a ioy as mine, (20) It neuer can neuer be told to anie.
Syl. H ow can this hart of thine containe A ioy, that is of such great force?
Arsil. I haue it, where I did retaine My passions of so great remorce.
Syl. (25) So great and rare a ioy is this, No man is able to with-hold:
Arsil. But greater that a pleasure is, The lesse it may with words be told.
Syl. Yet haue I heard thee heeretofore, (30) Thy ioyes in open Songs report:
Arsil. I said, I had of ioy some store,But not how much, nor in what sort.
Syl. Yet when a ioy is in excesse, It selfe it will oft-times vnfold:
Arsil. (35) Nay, such a ioy would be the lesse, If but a word thereof were told.

FINIS. Bar. Yong.

¶Montanus Sonnet. +

W H en the doggeFull of rage With his irefull eyes Frownes amidst the skies: