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But that which did of loue depend, (65) And in his hart did kindle fire: Of greater flames and hote desire.
Him did his passions all inuite, The greene leaues blowne with gentle winde: Christaline streames with their delight, (70) And Nightingales were not behinde, To helpe him in his louing verse: Which to himselfe he did rehearse.

FINIS. Bar. Yong.

¶ The Sheepheard to the flowers. +

S Weete Violets (Loues Paradise) that spread Your gracious odours, which you couched beare Within your palie faces: Vpon the gentle wing of some calme-breathing-winde (5) That playes amidst the Plaine, If by the fauour of propitious starres you gaine Such grace as in my Ladies bosome place to finde: Be proude to touch those places. And when her warmth your moysture foorth dooth weare, (10) Whereby her daintie parts are sweetly fed: Your honours of the flowrie Meades I pray, You prettie daughters of the earth and Sunne: With mild and seemely breathing straite display My bitter sighs, that haue my hart vndone.
(15) Vermillion Roses, that with new dayes rise Display your crimson folds fresh looking faire, Whose radiant bright, disgraces The rich adorned rayes of roseate rising morne, Ah if her Virgins hand. (20) Doo pluck your pure, ere Phœbus view the land,