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Requests, that with deniall could not meet,
Flew to our Shepherd, and the voices sweet
Of fairest Nymphes, intreating him to say
What wight he lou'd; he thus began his lay:
Shall I tell you whom I loue?
Hearken then a while to me;
And if such a woman moue,
As I now shall versifie;
Be assur'd, 'tis she, or none
That I loue, and loue alone.
Nature did her so much right,
As she scornes the helpe of Art,
In as many Vertues dight
As e'er yet imbrac'd a heart.
So much good so truly tride,
Some for lesse were deifide.
Wit she hath without desire
To make knowne how much she hath;
And her anger flames no higher
Then may fitly sweeten wrath.
Full of pitty as may be,
Though perhaps not so to me.
Reason masters euery sense,
And her vertues grace her birth
Louely as all excellence,
Modest in her most of mirth:

8

Likelihood enough to proue,
Onely worth could kindle Loue.
Such she is: and if you know
Such a one as I haue sung;
Be she browne, or faire, or so,
That she be but somewhile young;
Be assur'd, 'tis she, or none
That I loue, and loue alone.

Eous, Pyroeis, Aethon, and Phlegon, were fained to be the horses of the Sunne.

Eous and his fellowes in the teame,

(Who, since their watring in the Westerne streame,
Had run a furious iourney to appease
The night-sicke eyes of our Antipodes.)
Now (sweating) were in our Horizon seene
To drinke the cold dew from each flowry greene:
When Tritons Trumpet (with a shrill command)
Told siluer-footed Thetis was at hand.