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(From Pastorals, 1593)
1 FARRE in the Forrest of Arden, | |
| There dwelt a Knight hight Cassimen, | |
| As bold as Isenbras: | |
| Fell he was and eager bent | |
| In battaile and in Turnament, | 5 |
| As was the good Sr. Topas. | |
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2 He had (as Antique stories tell) | |
| A daughter cleped Dowsabell, | |
| A Maiden faire and free, | |
| Who, cause she was her fathers heire, | 10 |
| Full well she was y-tought the leire | |
| Of mickle courtesie. | |
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3 The Silke well could she twist and twine, | |
| And make the fine Marchpine, | |
| And with the needle work. | 15 |
| And she could help the Priest to say | |
| His Mattins on a Holy-day, | |
| And sing a Psalme in Kirk. | |
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4 Her Frocke was of the frolique Green, | |
| (Mought well become a Mayden Queen) | 20 |
| Which seemely was to see: | |
| Her Hood to it was neat and fine, | |
| In colour like the Columbine, | |
| y-wrought full featuously. | |
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5 This Maiden in a morne betime, | 25 |
| Went forth when May was in her prime, | |
| To get sweet Scettuall, | |
| The Honysuckle, the Horelock, | |
| The Lilly, and the Ladies-Smock, | |
| To dight her summer Hall. | 30 |
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6 And as she romed here, and there, | |
| Y-picking of the bloomed brier, | |
| She chanced to espie | |
| A Shepheard sitting on a bank, | |
| Like Chanticleere—he crowed crank, | 35 |
| And piped with merry glee. | |
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7 He leerd his Sheep as he him list, | |
| When he would whistle in his fist, | |
| To feed about him round, | |
| Whilst he full many a Caroll sung, | 40 |
| That all the fields, and meadowes rung, | |
| And made the woods resound. | |
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8 In favour this same Shepheard Swaine | |
| Was like the Bedlam Tamerlaine, | |
| That kept proud Kings in awe, | 45 |
| But meek he was as meek mought be, | |
| Yea like the gentle Abell, he | |
| Whom his lewd brother slew. | |
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9 This Shepheard wore a freeze-gray Cloake, | |
| The which was of the finest locke, | 50 |
| That could be cut with Sheere: | |
| His Aule and Lingell in a Thong, | |
| His Tar-box by a broad belt hung, | |
| His Cap of Minivere. | |
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10 His Mittens were of Bausons skin, | 55 |
| His Cockers were of Cordowin, | |
| His Breech of country blew: | |
| All curle, and crisped were his Locks, | |
| His brow more white than Albion Rocks: | |
| So like a Lover true. | 60 |
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11 And piping he did spend the day, | |
| As merry as a Popinjay, | |
| Which lik’d faire Dowsabell, | |
| That wod she ought, or wod she nought, | |
| The Shepheard would not from her thought, | 65 |
| In love she longing fell: | |
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12 With that she tucked up her Frock, | |
| (White as the Lilly was her Smock,) | |
| And drew the Shepheard nigh, | |
| But then the Shepheard pip’d a good, | 70 |
| That all his Sheep forsook their food, | |
| To heare his melody. | |
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13 Thy Sheep (quoth she) cannot be lean, | |
| That have so faire a Shepheard Swain, | |
| That can his Pipe so well: | 75 |
| I but (quoth he) the Shepheard may, | |
| If Piping thus he pine away, | |
| For love of Dowsabell. | |
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14 Of love (fond boy) take thou no keep, | |
| Look well (quoth she) unto thy Sheep; | 80 |
| Lest they should chance to stray. | |
| So had I done (quoth he) full well, | |
| Had I not seen faire Dowsabell, | |
| Come forth to gather May. | |
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15 I cannot stay (quoth she) till night, | 85 |
| And leave my Summer Hall undight, | |
| And all for love of men. | |
| Yet are you, quoth he, too unkind, | |
| If in your heart you cannot find, | |
| To love us now and then. | 90 |
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16 And I will be to thee as kind, | |
| As Collin was to Rosalinde, | |
| Of courtesie the flower. | |
| And I will be as true (quoth she) | |
| As ever Lover yet mought be, | 95 |
| Unto her Paramour. | |
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17 With that the Maiden bent her knee, | |
| Down by the Shepheard kneeled she, | |
| And sweetly she him kist. | |
| But then the Shepheard whoop’d for joy, | 100 |
| (Quoth he) was never Shepheard boy, | |
| That ever was so blist. | |
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