Hopelesse love cur'd by derision.
[1]
What? wilt thou pine, or fall away,
Because thy Daphne says thee nay?
Wilt cross thine arms, or willow wear,
Because that Shee is so severe?
Fye Shepherd, Fye, this must not bee,
Thy Daphne then will laugh at thee.
2
No, if She needs will be unkind,
On somewhat else divert thy mind:
Go sport with wanton Amarillis,
And dance with lovely nut-brown Phillis:
For Love's a shadow will deny
To follow thee, until thou sly.
3
Then Choridon, do not despair
For Daphne, whom we all know fair;
Let no proud Beauty on our Plains
Destroy thy youth with her disdains:
But if thou find her scorning thee,
Think thus, She was not born for mee.
