Ap. I thanke ye, gentle Ladies, for your paine.—
O Phoebus, wretched thou, thus art thou faine
With forg'de excuses to conceale thy paine.
O, Hyacinth, I suffer not these fits
For thee, my Boy; no, no, another sits
Deeper then thou in closet of my brest,
Whose sight so late hath wrought me this unrest.
And yet no Goddesse nor of heauenly kinde
She is, whose beautie thus torments my minde;
No Fayrie Nymph that haunts these pleasaunt woods,
No Goddesse of the flowres, the fields, nor floods:
Yet such an one whom iustly I may call
A Nymph as well as any of them all.
Eurymine, what heauen affoords thee heere?
So may I say, because thou com'st so neere,
And neerer far vnto a heauenly shape
Than she of whom Ioue triumph't in the Rape.
Ile sit me downe and wake my griefe againe
To sing a while in honour of thy name.
THE SONG.
Amidst the mountaine Ida groues,
Where Paris kept his Heard,
Before the other Ladies all
He would haue thee prefer'd.
Pallas, for all her painting, than
Her face would seeme but pale,
Then Iuno would haue blush't for shame
And Venus looked stale.
Eurymine, thy selfe alone
Shouldst beare the golden ball;
So far would thy most heauenly forme
Excell the others all;
O happie Phoebus! happie then,
Most happie should I bee
If faire Eurymine would please
To ioyne in loue with mee.
Enter Eurymine.
Eu. Although there be such difference in the chaunge
To Hue in Court and desart woods to raunge,
Yet in extremes, wherein we cannot chuse,
An extreame refuge is not to refuse.
Good gentlemen, did any see my heard?
I shall not finde them out I am afeard;
And yet my maister wayteth with his bowe
Within a standeing, for to strike a Doe.
You saw them not, your silence makes me doubt;
I must goe further till I finde them out.
Ap. What seeke you, prettie mayde?
Eu. Forsooth, my heard of Deere.
Ap. I sawe them lately, but they are not heere.
Eu. I pray, sir, where?
Ap. An houre agoe, or twaine, I sawe them feeding all aboue the plaine.