Yet dewed with tears they have been ever among.
Ah! who has wrought my Rosalind this spite,
To spoil the flowers that should her garland dight?
"And I, that whilome wont to frame my pipe
Unto the shifting of the shepheard's foot,
Such follies now have gathered as too ripe,
And cast them out as rotten and unsoote.
The looser lass I cast to please no more;
One if I please, enough is me therefore.
"And thus of all my harvest-hope I have