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A rich ſuit of green embroydered rare
With a garlands of flowers this lovely fair,ear
To ſhed oft the ſun from her beauty of clear.
To her ſheep in the valley each day did repair
TWhen two full year? were finiſhed and gone,
he ſquire to Oxfoord again he did return,
Her parentsa accus’d him for wronging their child.
He ſaid, ſhe was fickle and falſe like the wind,
But onw ſaid her father I fear ſhe is dead,
So we can ſay nothing to what you have ſaid
But we’re ſure ſhe was virtuous and civel to all,
And you are the man that’s the cauſe of her fall.
In ſorrow we well leave her dear parents to murn,
And to the fair ſhepherdeſs will return,
Who was the talk of-her folk far and near.
At leaſt her falſe lover the ſame came to hear,
He moſt ſee the beauty whatever betide,
So he call’d for his coach and away he did ride,
And juſt as Phceous was going donw,
He came to the valley where ſhe ſat alone,
The lambs were a ſporting in harmleſs ſpolt
The nymph ſhe was pleated at their infant ipurt
Her fine ſilver hair the breeſes did wave,
One a bank of lillies as tareleſs ſhe lay,
Ye gods ſaid the ſquire ſure ſhe is divine.
But if ſhe is motal then let her be mine
But little he thought it was love ſo true,
So falſe men admire each beauty that’s new.
