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Strephon.
Yee goteheard Gods that love the grassy Mounteynes?
Yee Nymphes wch haunte the springes in pleasaunt valleys,
Yee Satyres joyed with free and quyet Forestes,
Vouchesafe youre sylent eares to playing Musick,
Whiche to my woes gives still an earely Morninge,
And Drawes the Dolor on till weary Eevening.

Klaius.
O Mercury, foregoer to the Eevening,
O heavenly Huntress of the Savage Mountaynes,
O Lovely Starr, entytled of the Morning,
(While that my voyce dothe fill these wofull valleys)
Vouchsafe youre silent eares to playing Musick,
Wch ofte hathe Echo tyred in secrett Forestes.

Strephon.
I that was once free Burgess of the Forestes
(Where shade from Sunn̄ and sporte I sought in Eevening)
I that was once esteemd for pleasaunt Musick,
And banisht now amongst the Monsterus Mountaynes,
Of huge Dispayre and fowle afflictions valleyes,
Am growne a Scriche Owle to my self eche morning.

Klaius.
I that was once delighted every morning,
Hunting the wylde Inhabiters of the Forestes,
I that was once the Musick of the valleyes,
So Darckened am, that all my day ys Eevening,
Hart broken so, that Mole hilles seeme hye Mounteynes,
And fill the valleyes wth Cryes in steade of Musick.

Strephon.
Longe synce, alas, my Deadly Swannish Musick,
Hathe made yt self a Cryer of the Morning,
And hathe with wayling strengthe clymed hyest Mountaynes,
Longe synce my thoughtes more Dezert bee then Forestes,
Longe synce I see my Joyes come to theyre Eevening,
And State throwne downe to every trodden valleys.

Klaius.
Longe synce the happy dwellers of these valleyes,
Have prayde mee leave my straunge exclaming Musick,
Whiche trubles theyre dayes worcke and Joyes of Eevening,
Longe since I hate the Nighte, more hate the Morning,
Longe synce my thoughtes chase mee like Beastes in Forestes
And make mee wish my self layde under Mountaynes.

Strephon.
Mee seemes I see the hye and stately Mountaynes,
Transforme them selves to Lowe dejected valleys,
Mee seemes I heare in these yll chaunged Forestes
The Nightingales do learne of Owles theyre Musick,
Mee seemes I feele ye Comfort of the Morning,
Turne to the Mortall Siren of an Eevening.

Klaius.
Mee seemes I see a filthy Clowdy Eevening,
Assoone as Sunn̄ begyns to clyme the Mountaynes,
Mee seemes I feele a Noysome sent the Morninge,
When I do smell the Flowers of the valleyes,
Mee seemes I heare (when I do heare sweete Musick)
The Dreadfull Cryes of Murdered men in Forestes.

Strephon.
I wish to fyre the trees of all these Forestes,
I give the Sunne a Last farewell eche eevening,
I Curse the fidling fynders oute of Musick,
With Envy I do hate the lofty Mountaynes,
And with Despyte do spyte the humble valleyes.
I Do detest Nighte, Eevening day and Morning.

Klaius.
Curse to myself my Prayer ys the Morninge,
My fyer ys more then can bee made with Forestes,
My estate more base, then ys the basest valleyes,
I wish no Eevening, more, to see eche eevening.
Shamed, I hate my self in sighte of Mountaynes,
And stopp myne Eares lest I growe Madd wth Musik.

Strephon.
For shee whose partes meyntayne a perfect Musick,
Whose bewtyes shyne more then the blusshing morninge,
Who muche did pass in state, the Stately Mountaynes,
In streightnes past the Caedars of the forrestes,
Hathe cast mee wretche into Eternall Eevening,
By taking her twoo Sunnes from these darck valleyes.

Klaius.
For shee with whome Comparde the Alpes are valleyes,
Shee whose Least worde bringes from the Spheares theyre Musick,
At whose approche the Sunne rase in the Eevening,
Who where shee went bare in her forehead Morning,
Ys gon̄ ys gon̄ from these oure spoyled Forestes,
Turning to Dezartes oure best pastured Mountaynes.

Strephon.
These Mountaynes witnes shall, so shall these valleyes,

Klaius.
These Forestes eeke made wretched by oure Musick,
Oure Morning Hymne this ys and Songe at Eevening.