August.
Of Rosalend (who knowes not Rosalend?)
That Colin made, ylke can I you rehearse.
That Colin made, ylke can I you rehearse.
Perigot.
Now say it Cuddie, as thou art a ladde:
With mery thing its good to medle sadde.
Now say it Cuddie, as thou art a ladde:
With mery thing its good to medle sadde.
Willy.
Fayth of my soule, thou shalt ycrouned be
In Colins stede, if thou this song areede:
For neuer thing on earth so pleaseth me,
As him to heare, or matter of his deede,
Fayth of my soule, thou shalt ycrouned be
In Colins stede, if thou this song areede:
For neuer thing on earth so pleaseth me,
As him to heare, or matter of his deede,
Cuddie.
Then listneth ech vnto my heauy laye,
And tune your pypes as ruthful, as ye may.
Then listneth ech vnto my heauy laye,
And tune your pypes as ruthful, as ye may.
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e wastefull woodes beare witnesse of my woe,Wherein my plaints did oftentimes resound:
Ye carelesse byrds are priuie to my cryes,
Which in your songs were wont to make apart:
Thou pleasaunt spring hast luld me oft a sleepe,
Whose streames my tricklinge teares did ofte augment.
Resort of people doth my greefs augment,
The walled townes do worke my greater woe:
The forest wide is fitter to resound
The hollow Echo of my carefull cryes,
I hate the house, since thence my loue did part.
Whose wayle full want debarres myne eyes from sleep:
Let stremes of teares supply the place of sleepe:
Let all that sweete is, voyd: and all that may augment
My doole, drawe neare. More meete to wayle my woe,
Bene the wild woddes my sorrowes to resound,
Then bedde, or bowre, both which I fill with cryes,
When I them see so waist, and fynd no part
Of pleasure past. Here will I dwell apart
In gastfull groue therefore, till my last sleepe
Doe close mine eyes: so shall I not augment
With sight of such a chaunge my restlesse woe:
Helpe me, ye banefull byrds, whose shrieking sound
Ys signe of dreery death, my deadly cryes
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