University of Virginia Library

Tityrus to his faire Phillis.

The silly Swaine whose loue breedes discontent,
Thinks death a trifle, life a loathsome thing,
Sad he lookes, sad he lyes:
But when his Fortunes mallice dooth relent,
Then of Loues sweetnes he will sweetly sing,
thus he liues, thus he dyes.
Then Tityrus whom Loue hath happy made,
Will rest thrice happy in this Mirtle shade.
For though Loue at first did greeue him:
yet did Loue at last releeue him.