And Corydon the only swain
That only hath her shepherd been,--
Though Phyllis keep her bower of state,
Shall Corydon consume away?
No, shepherd, no, work out the week,
And Sunday shall be holiday.
A Pastoral of Phyllis and Corydon
On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower,