University of Virginia Library

SCENA. I.

Colin
thenamored sheepeherd singeth his passion of loue.
The songe.
O gentle loue, vngentle for thy deede,
Thou makest my harte
A bloodie marke
VVith pearcyng shot to bleede.
Shoote softe sweete loue, for feare thou shoote amysse,
For feare too keene.
Thy arrowes beene,
And hit the harte, where my beloued is.
To faire that fortune were, nor neuer I
Shalbe so blest
Among the rest
That loue shall ceaze on her by simpathye.
Then since with loue my prayers beare no boot,
This doth remayne
To cease my payne,
I take the wounde, and dye at Venus foote.
Exit Colin.