it was a desperate shot.

Per. There it ranckleth ay more and more,

Wil. hey ho the arrowe,

Per. Ne can I find salue for my sore:

Wil. loue is a curelesse sorrowe.

Per. And though my bale with death I bought,

Wil. hey ho heauie cheere,

Per. Yet should thilk lasse not from my thought:

Wil. so you may buye gold to deare.

Per. But whether in paynefull loue I pyne,

Wil. hey ho pinching payne,

Per. Or thriue in welth, she shalbe mine.

Wil. but if17 thou can her obteine.

Per. And if for gracelesse greefe I dye,

Wil. hey ho gracelesse griefe,

Per. Witnesse, shee slewe me with her eye:

Wil. let thy follye be the priefe.

Per. And you, that sawe it, simple shepe,

Wil. hey ho the fayre flocke,

Per. For priefe thereof, my death shall weepe,

Wil. and mone with many a mocke.

Per. So learnd I loue on a hollye eue,

Wil. hey ho holidaye,

Per. That euer since my hart did greue.

Wil. now endeth our roundelay.

 

Cuddye.

 

Sicker sike a roundle neuer heard I none.

Little lacketh Perigot of the best.

And Willye is not greatly ouergone,

So weren his vndersongs well addrest.

 

Willye.

 

Herdgrome, I feare me, thou haue a squint eye:18

Areede vprightly, who has the victorye?

 

Cuddie.

 

Fayth of my soule, I deeme ech haue19 gayned.

For thy let the Lambe be Willye his owne:

And for Perigot so well hath hym payned,

To him be the wroughten mazer alone.

 

Perigot.

 

Perigot is well pleased with the doome:20

Ne can Willye wite the witelesse21 herdgroome.

 

Willye.

 

Neuer dempt22 more right of beautye I weene,

The shepheard of Ida,23 that iudged beauties Queene.

 

Cuddie.

 

But tell me shepherds, should it not yshend

Your roundels fresh, to heare a doolefull verse

Of Rosalend (who knowes not Rosalend?)

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.

 

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.

 

Cuddie.

 

Then listneth ech vnto my heauy laye,

And tune your pypes as ruthful, as ye may.

 

Ye 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 a part:

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 waylefull want debarres myne eyes from sleepe.

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

Most ruthfully to tune. And as my cryes

(Which of my woe cannot bewray least part)

You heare all night, when nature craueth sleepe,

Increase, so let your yrksome yells augment.

Thus all the night in plaints, the daye in woe

I vowed haue to wayst, till safe and sound

She home returne, whose voyces siluer sound

To cheerefull songs can chaunge my cherelesse cryes.

Hence with the Nightingale will I take part,

That blessed byrd, that spends her time of sleepe

In songs and plaintiue pleas, the more taugment

The memory of hys misdeede, that bred her woe:

And you that feele no woe, | when as the sound

Of these my nightly cryes | ye heare apart,

Let breake your sounder sleepe | and pitie augment.

 

Perigot.

 

O Colin, Colin, the shepheards ioye,

How I admire ech turning of thy verse:

And Cuddie, fresh Cuddie the liefest boye,

How dolefully his doole thou didst rehearse.

 

Cuddie.

 

Then blowe your pypes shepheards, til you be at home:

The night nigheth fast, yts time to be gone.

 

Perigot his Embleme.

 

Vincenti gloria victi.

 

Willyes Embleme.

 

Vinto non vitto.

 

Cuddies Embleme.

 

Felice chi puo.

 

Glosse.

 

1 Bestadde) disposed, ordered.

 

2 Whilome) once. Peregall) equall.

 

3 Rafte) bereft, depriued.

 

4 Miswent) gon a straye.

 

5 Ill may) according to Virgile. Infelix o semper ouis pecus.

 

6 A mazer) So also do Theocritus and Virgile feigne pledges of their strife.

 

7 Enchased) engrauen.