ROGET.
Not for both your flocks, I swear,
And the gain they yield you yearly,
Would I so much wrong my dear.
Yet to me, nor to this place,
Would she now be long a stranger;
She would hold it no disgrace,
(If she feared not more my danger,)
Where I am to show her face.
WILLY.
Shepherd, we would wish no harms,
But something that might content thee.
ROGET.
Wish me then within her arms,
And that wish will ne'er repent me,
If your wishes might prove charms.
WILLY.
Be thy prison her embrace,
Be thy air her sweetest breathing.
CUDDY.
Be thy prospect her fair face,
For each look a kiss bequeathing,
And appoint thyself the place.