Shee that long true love profest,
She hath robb'd my heart of rest:
For she a new love loves, not mee; 15
Which makes me wear the willowe-tree.
Willy.
Come then, shepherde, let us joine,
Since thy happ is like to mine:
For the maid I thought most true,
Mee hath also bid adieu. 20
Cuddy.
Thy hard happ doth mine appease,
Companye doth sorrowe ease:
Yet, Phillis, still I pine for thee,
And still must weare the willowe-tree.
Willy.
Shepherde, be advis'd by mee, 25
Cast off grief and willowe-tree:
For thy grief brings her content,
She is pleas'd if thou lament.
Cuddy.
Herdsman, I'll be rul'd by thee,
There lyes grief and willowe-tree: 30
Henceforth I will do as they,
And love a new love every day.