CLOE

O help, if any Shepherds, near, Hear my laments. O hapless Maid, no aid will come. Lysander steps forth. Kind Youth, to whom am I Bound for this fair courtesy? May your Sweetest whom you love, Ever constant to you prove. Be she brighter than the Sun, Pleasing as our day at noon; Fresher than the morning Due: Sweeter than a new killed Ewe; Like Aurora decked with flowers, Or the welcome April showers. May she love you, and you be The mirror for true Constancy; Go gentle Youth, and this day prosperous be Amongst our Swains in your Activity. Exit. Friendly Swain, the day is yours; you see My prayer it seems successful was to thee. Pity my maiden tears; till now, I never Sued to a shepherd, but the shepherd's were My suitors. Nor deem me light because my love is such; I love indeed, and fear I love too much. You saved my life, my chastity, what more? Take me as one that was your own before. O friend! I le be your servant, and your flocks will keep. I'll nightly watch while you do sweetly sleep And in the morn I'll willingly to field, While you do taste the sweets Loves valleys yield, And with industrious labour against noon, Will get your dinner ready, so you will But smile on me, and say well done. Is my face withered? or has Nature so Deformed me lately that I am not Cloe ? For thee poor Cloe Shepherds have pitched the Bar, Wrestled, and leaped, and shown the feats of War. For thee each strove to gain thee as his Dove; But thou didst sleight and scorn their simple love. How many Verses have the Shepherds made, In praising of thy Beauty, whilst thou laid Thy heart on him that hates to hear thee named, And thy delight is still to have him famed? How many Rings and Gloves hast thou received From the poor Swains thou often times deceived? For thee on Holy days they often would Meet on the Heath next to the Pinders fold, Where they with Music, and such sweet content, Would spend their time to make thee merriment. Since then my love is not one mite rewarded, And that my Beauty is no more regarded: I'll tear these golden locks, that shepherd's may Leave off their sport, and make no Holiday. I will follow through yond Grove, Where I soon shall meet my Love; Then with sweet embraces we Will clip, and cull, and none shall see. A willow Garland I will make, And sweetly wear it for his sake. Then through Thickets, Woods, and Plains, I will hide me from the Swains? High Dam, high Dam, what art thou? As she is running in, meets her. Hence thou coward, hence from me: Blush at thy disloyal y. Didst not tell me thou wouldst gain Me reputation by thy fame; And sufferest now a stranger bear The prize, and thou to have no share? Would, would, would; fool, fool! see you now fool? Fool! kiss — kiss — kiss — Exit. Where do you lead me? Exeunt. Dear friend, the stories of us both if weighed In and equal balance, would poize each other Yet to put her love to the Test, I'll undertake your message. I'm glad I've found you; do you see w'are coupled as Lovers ought to do: but your Gloriana is lost beyond Recovery. Heigh down a down derry, And shall not we be merry? A fire on thy hold, It's as black as a coal, And thy nose is as brown as a berry. Him ho. What a thing this love is? When Love did act a woman's partly, She sings. She could have died with all her heart, It swelled her so in every partly; She swore 'twas wind, and then did — Him, him, him, him, Nymphs to her Sing about her. Love cannot choose but pity yield, He never lived in tented field, amongst iron hearted men, He knows both how, and when Thee to restore To what thou Wertenberg before. He has a tender breast, which knows Your wants by the tormenting woes He's subject to himself. Then do not you despair, That are both young and fair. Thus we convey you hence.