THOMALIN.
Is not thilk same a goatherd proud,
That sits on yonder bank,
Whose straying herd them self doth shroud
Among the bushes rank?
MOR. What, ho, thou jolly shepheard's swain,
Come up the hill to me;
Better is than the lowly plain,
Als for thy flock and thee.
THOM. Ah! God shield, man, that I should climb,