Sil.  Nor I breake mine:  and here her cottage is, Ile call her forth.

Ge.  Will Silvio be so rude?

Sil.  Never shall we betwixt ourselves conclude Our controversie, for we overweene.

Ge.  Not I but thou; for though thou iet’st in greene,
As fresh as meadow in a morne of May,
And scorn’st the shepheard for he goes in gray. 
But, Forrester, beleeve it as thy creede,
My mistresse mindes my person not my weede.

Sil.  So ’twas I thought:  because she tends thy sheepe
Thou thinkst in love of thee she taketh keepe;
That is as townish damzels, lend the hand
But send the heart to him aloofe doth stande: 
So deales Eurymine with Silvio.

Ge.  Al be she looke more blithe on Gemulo Her heart is in the dyall of her eye, That poynts me hers.

Sil.  That shall we quickly trye. Eurymine!

Ge. Erynnis, stop thy throte; Unto thy hound thou hallowst such a note.  I thought that shepheards had bene mannerlesse, But wood-men are the ruder groomes I guesse.

Sil.  How shall I call her swaine but by her name?

Ge.  So Hobinoll the plowman calls his dame.  Call her in Carroll from her quiet coate.

Sil.  Agreed; but whether shall begin his note?

Ge.  Draw cuttes.

Sil.  Content; the longest shall begin.

Ge.  Tis mine.

Sil.  Sing loude, for she is farre within.

Ge.  Instruct thy singing in thy forrest waies, Shepheards know how to chant their roundelaies.

Sil.  Repeat our bargain ere we sing our song, Least after wrangling should our mistresse wrong:  If me she chuse thou must be well content, If thee she chuse I give the like consent.

Ge.  Tis done:  now, Pan pipe, on thy sweetest reede, And as I love so let thy servaunt speede.—­

     As little Lambes lift up their snowie sides
     When mounting Lark salutes the gray eyed morne—­

Sil.  As from the Oaken leaves the honie glides
     Where nightingales record upon the thorne—­

Ge.  So rise my thoughts—­

Sil.  So all my sences cheere—­

Ge.  When she surveyes my flocks

Sil.  And she my Deare.

Ge.  Eurymine!

Sil.  Eurymine!

Ge.  Come foorth—­

Sil.  Come foorth—­

Ge.  Come foorth and cheere these plaines—­

       (And both sing this together when they have sung it single.)

Sil.  The wood-mans Love

Ge.  And Lady of the Swaynes.

       Enter Eurymine_.

Faire Forester and lovely shepheard Swaine,
Your Carrolls call Eurymine in vaine,
For she is gone:  her Cottage and her sheepe
With me, her brother, hath she left to keepe,
And made me sweare by Pan, ere she did go,
To see them safely kept for Gemulo.