 | Pastorals |  |
[Scene 1.]
Fauney
and Lallet, this as fair
As Flower, that fresh as Evening Air;
One Holy-Morning had in head,
To trip to Lynheath rosie Mead.
He one hand laid in Bosom bare:
Her Cloaths fast fluttered in Air.
Sang he and whistled ore the Sweard:
She limber leap'd, as blith as Bird.
As Flower, that fresh as Evening Air;
One Holy-Morning had in head,
To trip to Lynheath rosie Mead.
He one hand laid in Bosom bare:
Her Cloaths fast fluttered in Air.
40
She limber leap'd, as blith as Bird.
O dainty Violet! said he,
Simp'ring, and stooping on the Lea,
Thee little Lass, ah happy thee!
Adown her Bosom letten be.
Then, for he'd give a Mey the Flower,
The Stripling kist it o're and o're.
Simp'ring, and stooping on the Lea,
Thee little Lass, ah happy thee!
Adown her Bosom letten be.
Then, for he'd give a Mey the Flower,
The Stripling kist it o're and o're.
Lallet was meek and sweet of Mein;
Tender as Evening Air ybeen.
Soothly, a-frosty Morns she'll set
Her Window ope, and much of Meat:
Then, oh how she will cherrup fair,
The gentle Birds out eager Air.
Tender as Evening Air ybeen.
Soothly, a-frosty Morns she'll set
Her Window ope, and much of Meat:
Then, oh how she will cherrup fair,
The gentle Birds out eager Air.
41
Thus merry the two triped it:
I can but smile to think how sweet!
I can but smile to think how sweet!
Strait Fauney step'd afore, to see
The where the softest Seat might be.
The where the softest Seat might be.
Abie Lin-heath yspread's a Bough,
The sweetest sure the Bee doth know.
There use the Shepherds fresh yfare,
To bay their Bosoms in cool Air;
And sip the Dew off Sweet-Breer Rose:
There often Cubbinet too goes.
The sweetest sure the Bee doth know.
There use the Shepherds fresh yfare,
To bay their Bosoms in cool Air;
And sip the Dew off Sweet-Breer Rose:
There often Cubbinet too goes.
Now, sweet the Swain here lay at ease;
Waiting the Lilly-footen Lass.
She, slim-made PrettyOne, her hied
Over the Green, as brisk as Bride.
Her fine Dew-laping Vest, with Care,
One Hand did hold; one Flowerets fair
A-bosom put, soft Paps emong,
As soft, as Drop on Hawthorn hung.
Waiting the Lilly-footen Lass.
She, slim-made PrettyOne, her hied
Over the Green, as brisk as Bride.
42
One Hand did hold; one Flowerets fair
A-bosom put, soft Paps emong,
As soft, as Drop on Hawthorn hung.
The Shepherd saw her far away;
And sweet she sliggar'd by my Fay!
Then simpering said, as came anigh;
Oh what a merry Lass am I!
He'll pick 'em all out, when doth see,
While I with's RingletHair may play!
He'll say I'm sweeter, pick each Flower;
So I shall play amost an Hour!
Well was it ween'd now by my Fay;
O what a merry Lass am I!
And sweet she sliggar'd by my Fay!
Then simpering said, as came anigh;
Oh what a merry Lass am I!
He'll pick 'em all out, when doth see,
While I with's RingletHair may play!
He'll say I'm sweeter, pick each Flower;
So I shall play amost an Hour!
Well was it ween'd now by my Fay;
O what a merry Lass am I!
But she off Fauncy was so far,
That he no whit of this might hear.
That he no whit of this might hear.
43
Now they're together set so sweet,
How shall I say how soft and sweet!
The Swainet ope's his Breast to th' Air;
And calls his Love to fan it fair.
Then for her Pains her Lip soft smack's,
And right's and smooth's her Honey-Locks.
Sooth, now the Lass gan like a Kiss;
But claps her dimple Cheek to his,
And whisper's soft, Much Marl I how,
Fauney, thou can'st love kissing so.
How shall I say how soft and sweet!
The Swainet ope's his Breast to th' Air;
And calls his Love to fan it fair.
Then for her Pains her Lip soft smack's,
And right's and smooth's her Honey-Locks.
Sooth, now the Lass gan like a Kiss;
But claps her dimple Cheek to his,
And whisper's soft, Much Marl I how,
Fauney, thou can'st love kissing so.
Thus lovely lay the gentle Pair,
Soft as the Mid-day Gossamer:
Strait Lallet rises, and will hie
To gather Strawberrys abie.
I prethee, said she, smiling sweet,
Stay here, and here I'll see thee strait.
Soft as the Mid-day Gossamer:
Strait Lallet rises, and will hie
To gather Strawberrys abie.
I prethee, said she, smiling sweet,
Stay here, and here I'll see thee strait.
44
She goes: The Shepherd ill can brook,
To lose the Pleasance of her Look.
But rose anon; and Flowers gan pick,
Aside a Spring, her Breast to deck.
Then down agen sate on the Soft;
And look'd for Lallet oft and oft.
O me! How fine a Flower is this;
Sooth she shan't ha't without a Kiss!
Flig'ring he said; and pleas'd himself,
That he should please his darling Elf.
To lose the Pleasance of her Look.
But rose anon; and Flowers gan pick,
Aside a Spring, her Breast to deck.
Then down agen sate on the Soft;
And look'd for Lallet oft and oft.
O me! How fine a Flower is this;
Sooth she shan't ha't without a Kiss!
Flig'ring he said; and pleas'd himself,
That he should please his darling Elf.
Thus long he sate; still wondring why
She came not; but she then was by;
The Lass stood by; stood 'hind a Bough;
Laughing, to think what he would do,
When found she came not. Now, she sain,
Had I the Heart to give him Pain!
Emey I've heard say, I know not,
Love dearer be the dearer bought.
A little whit howe're I'll wait;
'Twill pain him but a little whit.
She came not; but she then was by;
The Lass stood by; stood 'hind a Bough;
Laughing, to think what he would do,
When found she came not. Now, she sain,
Had I the Heart to give him Pain!
45
Love dearer be the dearer bought.
A little whit howe're I'll wait;
'Twill pain him but a little whit.
The gentle Shepherd easeless was;
Turning and shifting on the Grass.
When Paplet saw he, Youngling-Lass,
Soft of Heart and fair of Face.
Full far away he saw, and ran
To know if Lallet she had seen;
And walk'd awith her, grieved sore,
Till his own Dear could see no more.
Turning and shifting on the Grass.
When Paplet saw he, Youngling-Lass,
Soft of Heart and fair of Face.
Full far away he saw, and ran
To know if Lallet she had seen;
And walk'd awith her, grieved sore,
Till his own Dear could see no more.
When Lallet saw, a-thro' her Bough,
The fair-framed he to Paplet go;
Ah God, how yearn'd the harmless Heart!
How griev'd, that she should give him smart!
But when he out of sight did go,
Alass, she knew not what to do.
For shamed after him to run,
Thinking he now was angry grown.
The fair-framed he to Paplet go;
Ah God, how yearn'd the harmless Heart!
How griev'd, that she should give him smart!
46
Alass, she knew not what to do.
For shamed after him to run,
Thinking he now was angry grown.
With pretty carefulness in Face,
Walk'd, ne knew where, the dainty Lass.
Nought minding now her little Cade;
Though't stop't her, as afore her plaid.
Ne when she made Mouth bleed with kick,
Left it, but soft her Footen lick.
Poor Fool! It stay her would, tho' whip'd;
Mayseem it lack'd so sore be lip'd.
For't used lye in Lap elong,
And touch her Bosom with the Tongue.
Walk'd, ne knew where, the dainty Lass.
Nought minding now her little Cade;
Though't stop't her, as afore her plaid.
Ne when she made Mouth bleed with kick,
Left it, but soft her Footen lick.
Poor Fool! It stay her would, tho' whip'd;
Mayseem it lack'd so sore be lip'd.
For't used lye in Lap elong,
And touch her Bosom with the Tongue.
Thus rov'd the dainty-leged Lass,
All till the Eve drew on apace.
Then down she laid her Limbs so sliek;
And to the cold Ground clap'd her Cheek.
Oh I hard Heart! I worse than Wolf!
(Then said) to pain so gentle Elf!
Ah how could I, how could I tho'
Go harm poor Heart? he work'd no Wo!—
But here do let me stop, for why,
I want to wipe my tearie Eye.
All till the Eve drew on apace.
47
And to the cold Ground clap'd her Cheek.
Oh I hard Heart! I worse than Wolf!
(Then said) to pain so gentle Elf!
Ah how could I, how could I tho'
Go harm poor Heart? he work'd no Wo!—
But here do let me stop, for why,
I want to wipe my tearie Eye.
| Pastorals | |