Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee,
For I am falser then vowes made in wine:
Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house,
'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:
Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard:
Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him better
And be not proud, though all the world could see,
None could be so abus'd in sight as hee.
Come, to our flocke,
Enter.

Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might,
Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first sight?
Sil. Sweet Phebe

Phe. Hah: what saist thou Siluius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe pitty me

Phe. Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius

Sil. Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be:
If you doe sorrow at my griefe in loue,
By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefe
Were both extermin'd

Phe. Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would haue you

Phe. Why that were couetousnesse: