Rodope. Had I a bosome like to thine,
    When I it pleas’d to show,
    T’ what part o’ th’ Skie I would incline
    I would make th’ Etheriall bowe,
    My swannish breast brancht all with blew,
    In brauery like the spring: 
    In Winter to the generall view
    Full Summer forth should bring. 80

      Dorida. Had I a body like my deare,
    Were I so straight so tall,
    O, if so broad my shoulders were,
    Had I a waste so small;
    I would challenge the proud Queene of loue
    To yeeld to me for shape,
    And I should feare that Mars or Iove
    Would venter for my rape.

      Rodope. Had I a hand like thee my Gerle,
    (This hand O let me kisse) 90
    These Ivory Arrowes pyl’d with pearle,
    Had I a hand like this;
    I would not doubt at all to make,
    Each finger of my hand
    To taske swift Mercury to take
    With his inchanting wand.

      Dorida. Had I a Theigh like Rodopes;
    Which twas my chance to viewe,
    When lying on yon banck at ease,
    The wind thy skirt vp blew, 100
    I would say it were a columne wrought
    To some intent Diuine,
    And for our chaste Diana sought,
    A pillar for her shryne.

      Rodope. Had I a Leg but like to thine
    That were so neat, so cleane,
    A swelling Calfe, a Small so fine,
    An Ankle, round and leane,
    I would tell nature she doth misse
    Her old skill; and maintaine, 110
    She shewd her master peece in this,
    Not to be done againe.

      Dorida. Had I that Foot hid in those shoos,
    (Proportion’d to my height)
    Short Heele, thin Instep, euen Toes,
    A Sole so wondrous straight,
    The Forresters and Nimphes at this
    Amazed all should stand,
    And kneeling downe, should meekely kisse
    The Print left in the sand. 120

    By this the Nimphes came from their sport,
    All pleased wondrous well,
    And to these Maydens make report
    What lately them befell: 
    One said the dainty Lelipa
    Did all the rest out-goe,
    Another would a wager lay
    She would outstrip a Roe;
    Sayes one, how like you Florimel
    There is your dainty face:  130
    A fourth replide, she lik’t that well,
    Yet better lik’t her grace,
    She’s counted, I confesse, quoth she,
    To be our onely Pearle,
    Yet haue I heard her oft to be
    A melancholy Gerle. 
    Another said she quite mistoke,
    That onely was her art,
    When melancholly had her looke