PHYLLIS

What haste shouldst thou have but to comfort me, Who hath no other comfort but in thee? Not in thy pour Clarindo? ah ifthou Hadst any thing of manliness, thou wouldst. Ah whither canst thou go, where thou shalt be More dearly loved and cherished then with me? Oh cruel youth, will thy heart nothing move? Show me yet pity, if thou show not love. And art thou gone hardhearted youth? hast thou Thus disappointed my desires, and Jest My shame afflict me worse then my love? Now in what case am I, that neither can Recall my modesty, nor thee again? Ah were it now to do again, my passion should Have smothered me to death, before I would Have showed the smallest sparkle of my flame. But it is done, and I am now undone. Ah hadst thou be a man, and had that partly Of understanding of a woman's heart, My words had be unborn, only mine eyes Had be a tongue enough to one were wise. But this it is, to love a boy, whose years Conceives not his own good, nor weighs my tears: But this disgrace I justly have deserved SO Phillis have you, and you're rightly served. Have you disdained the gallanst Foresters, And bravest herdsmen all Arcadia hath, And now in love with one is not a man? Assure your self this is a joust revenge Love takes, for your misprision of his pour. I told you often there would come a time, When you would sure be plagued for such a crime: But you would laugh at me, as one you thought Conceived not of what mettle you were wrought. Is this you, who would wonder any nymphs Could ever be so foolish as to love? Who is so foolish now? Small touches Lidia, do you count the small? Can there unto a woman worse befall Then hath to me? what? have not I lost all That is most deer to us, love and my fame? Is there a third thing Lidia you can name That is so precious as to match with these? Ah Lidia, but he saw I did not sport, He saw my tears, and more, what shall I say? He saw too much, and that which never man Shall ever see again whilst I have breath. That Lidia can I never do, let him Do what he will to me: report my shame, And vaunt his fortune, and my weakness blame. Ah Lidia, could that he without his harm, How blessed should I be? But see where comes My great tormentor, hat rude Forester. Good Lidia let us fly, I hate his sighed Next to the ill I suffer: let us fly, We shall be troubled with him woefully. What Lidia, does he brawl? what means he thus To speak and look in this strange sort on me? Me with a boy, Montanus? when? where? how? But yet I would not have you hurt the youth, For that were neither grace for you nor me. That shall I never do but ever blush At her, to think what she will think of me, Who did bewray my self so foolishly. Peace Lidia, peace, Add not more grief t'a heart that hath too much, Do not insult upon her misery, Whose flame, God wot, needs water, and not oil. Thou seest I am undone, caught in the Toil Of and intangling mischief: tell me how I may recover, and unwind me now. What use can of so gross a piece be made? See Lidia see, how savagely he looks, Good let us go, I never shall endure To hear him bellow. Well, it I hear, I will not answer him a word, you shall reply, And prithee Lidia do, reply for me. Good Lidia see how he hath tricked himself, Now sure this gay fresh suit as seems to me Hangs Like green Ivy on a rotten tree.