And thou, Menalcas! that by treachery
Didst underfong my lass to wax so light,
Shouldst well be known for such thy villany.
But since I am not as I wish I were,
Ye gentle shepheards! which your flocks do feed,
Whether on hills, or dales, or other where,
Bear witness all of this so wicked deed;
And tell the lass, whose flower is wox a weed,
And faultless faith is turn'd to faithless fear,
That she the truest shepheard's heart made bleed