Could make me cross mine arms, or daily dye
With fresh consumings: boldly tell me then,
How shall we part their faithful loves, and when?
Shall I bely him to her, shall I swear
His faith is false, and he loves every where?
I'le say he mockt her th' other day to you,
Which will by your confirming shew as true,
For he is of so pure an honesty,
To think (because he will not) none will lye:
Or else to him I'le slander _Amoret_,
And say, she but seems chaste; I'le swear she met
Me 'mongst the shady Sycamores last night
And loosely offred up her flame and spright
Into my bosom, made a wanton bed
Of leaves and many flowers, where she spread
Her willing body to be prest by me;
There have I carv'd her name on many a tree,
Together with mine own; to make this show
More full of seeming, _Hobinall_ you know,
Son to the aged Shepherd of the glen,
Him I have sorted out of many men,
To say he found us at our private sport,
And rouz'd us 'fore our time by his resort:
This to confirm, I have promis'd to the boy
Many a pretty knack, and many a toy,
As gins to catch him birds, with bow and bolt,
To shoot at nimble Squirrels in the holt;
A pair of painted Buskins, and a Lamb,
Soft as his own locks, or the down of swan;
This I have done to win ye, which doth give