And thrice I’ll kiss the green-grass turf
That wraps his breathless clay.
GENTLE HERDSMAN.
When thus I saw he loved me well,
I grewe so proud his paine to see,
That I, who did not know myselfe,
Thought scorne of such a youth as hee,
And grewe soe coy and nice to please,
As women’s lookes are often soe,