2239And what shall I doe then? Ile bring a beavy,

2240A hundred blacke eyd Maides, that love as I doe

2241With Chaplets on their heads of Daffadillies,

2242With cherry-lips, and cheekes of Damaske Roses,

2243And all wee'l daunce an Antique fore the Duke,

2244And beg his pardon; Then she talk'd of you Sir;

2245That you must loose your head to morrow morning,

2246And she must gather flowers to bury you,

2247And see the house made handsome, then she sung

2248Nothing but Willow, willow, willow, and betweene

2249Ever was, Palamon, faire Palamon,

2250And Palamon, was a tall yong man. The place

2251Was knee deepe where she sat; her careles Tresses,

2252A wreake of bull-rush rounded; about her stucke

2253Thousand fresh water flowers of severall cullors.

2254That me thought she appeard like the faire Nimph

2255That feedes the lake with waters, or as Iris

2256Newly dropt downe from heaven; Rings she made

2257Of rushes that grew by, and to 'em spoke

2258The prettiest posies: Thus our true love's tide,

2259This you may loose, not me, and many a one:

2260And then she wept, and sung againe, and sigh'd,

2261And with the same breath smil'd, and kist her hand.

22622. Fr. Alas what pitty it is?

2263Wooer. I made in to her.

2264She saw me, and straight sought the flood, I sav'd her,

2265And set her safe to land: when presently

2266She slipt away, and to the Citty made,

2267With such a cry, and swiftnes, that beleeve me

2268Shee left me farre behinde her; three, or foure,

2269I saw from farre off crosse her, one of 'em

2270I knew to be your brother, where she staid,

2271And fell, scarce to be got away: I left them with her.

2273And hether came to tell you: Here they are.

2274Daugh. May you never more enjoy the light, &c.

2275Is not this a fine Song?

2276Bro. O a very fine one.