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The Sheepheards Sonnet.
My fairest Ganimede disdaine me not,Though sillie Sheepheard!, presume to loue thee,
Though my harsh Songs and Sonnets cannot mooue thee:
Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot:
Apollo, Ioue, and many Gods beside
S'dain'd not the name of Country Sheepheards Swaines,
Nor want we pleasures, though we take some paines.
We liue contentedly: A thing call'd pride
Which so corrupts the Court and euery place,
(Each place I meane where learning is neglected,
And yet of late, euen learnings selfe's infected,)
J know not what it meanes in any case.
We onely (when Molorchus gins to peepe,
Learne for to fold, and to vnfold our Sheepe.
FINIS.
Rich. Barnefielde.
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