Cli. Well mett, faire Florida sweete, which way goe you? 430
F. 73v rev. Flo. In faith, sweete Clinias, I cannot knowe you.
Dor. Noe, knowe, but did you see the white Narcisse?
Clo. The whitest man alive a huntinge is;
Hee that doth looke farre whiter then the vilett,
Or moone at midday, or els skye at twilight.
Cli. That is the same, even that is that Narcissus,
Hee that hath love despis'd, & scorned vs.
Flo. Not you alone hee scornes, but vs also;
O doe not greive when maids part stakes in woe.
O, that same youthe's the scummer of all skorne, 440
Of surquedry the very shooing horne,
Piller of pride, casting topp of contempt,
Stopple of statelines for takinge vente.
Many youthes, many maids sought him to gaine,
Noe youthes, noe maids could ever him obtaine:
Then thus I pray, & hands to heaven vpp leave,
So may hee love & neare his love atcheive.
Looke you for maids no more, our parte is done,
Wee come but to bee scornd, & so are gone.
[Exeunt.
Dor. But wee have more to doe, that have wee perdie, 450
Wee must a fish & hunt the hare so hardye,
For even as after hare runnes swiftest beagle,
So doth Narcissus our poore harts corneagle.
[Exeunt.
Enter Eccho.