When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes.
If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home;
My sheep-cote shall be strowd with new greene rushes:
Weele haunt the trembling Prickets as they rome
About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes;
I haue a pie-bald Curre to hunt the Hare:
So we will liue with daintie forrest fare.
Nay more than this, I haue a Garden-plot,
Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers;