The shepherds delight.  
To the tune of Frog galliard  
 

ON yonder hill there springs a flower  
fair befall those dainty sweets:  
And by that flower there stands a bower,  
Where all the heavenly Muses meets.  
And in that Bower there stands a chair,  
fringed all about with gold,  
And therein sits the fairest face,  
that ever did mine eyes behold.   

It was Philida fair and bright,  
and the shepherds only joy:  
She whom Venus did most spite,  
and the blinded little boy.  
It was she the wisest rich,  
whom all the World did joy to see,  
It was Ipse qui the which,  
there was none but only she.   

Thou art the shepherds Queen,  
pity me thy woeful Swain,  
For by thy virtue hath been seen  
dead men restored to life again.  
Look on me with thy fair eyes,  
one smiling look and I am gone:  
Look on me for I am he,  
thy poor afflicted Coridon.   

Dead am I to all delights,  
except thy mercy quicken me:  
Grant oh Queen of else I die,  
a Psalm for this my melody.  
The while we sing with cheerful noise  
Wood Nymphs & satires all may play  
With silver sounding Musics voice,  
rejoicing at this happy day.   
W. T.  
FINIS.   

A pleasant new Ballad of DAPHNE.  
To a new Tune.  

WHen Daphne from fair Phebu did fly,  
the West wind most sweetly  
Did blow in her face:  
Her silken scarf scarce shadowed her eyes,  
The gods cried O pity, & held her in chase:  
Stay Nymph, stay Nymph cries Apollo,  
Larry and turn thee, sweet Nymph stay,  
Lion nor Lyger do 〈◊〉 thee follow.  
turn thy fair eyes and look this way,  
O turn, O pretty sweet,  
And let our red lips meet:  
Pity O Daphne, pity O pity me,  
pity O Daphne pity me.   

She gave no ear unto his cry,  
But still did neglect him the more he did moon  
He still did entreat, she still did deny:  
And earnestly prays him to leave her alone,  
Never, never cries Apollo,  
Unless to love thou do consent,  
But still with my voice so hollow,  
I'll cry to thee while life be spent,  
But if thou turn to me,  
I will praise thy felicity,  
Pity O Daphne, pity, O pity me,  
pity O Daphne pity me.   

Away like Venus Down she flies,  
The red blood her buskins did run all adown  
Her plaintiff Love she now denies,  
Crying, help, help Diana, & save my renown  
Wanton, wanton lust is near me,  
Would and chaste Diana hear,  
Let the earth a virgin bear me,  
or devour me quick a maid.  
Summer pure heard her prey,  
Pity O Daphe, pity O pity me,  
pity O Daphne pity me.   

Amazed stood Apollo then,  
When he beheld Daphne turned as she desired  
Accursed am I above Gods and men,  
With grief & laments my senses are tired,  
Farewell false Daphne most unkind,  
My love is buried in this grave,  
Long have I sought love, yet love could not find,  
Therefore this is my Epithet,  
This tree doth Daphne cover,  
That never pitied Lover,  
Farewell false Daphne that would not pity  
nor be my Love, yet art thou my free. me,   
FINIS,   

Imprinted at London for I. W.