The Tragedy of Phillis, Complaining of the Disloyal Love of Amintas.  
To a New Court Tune.  

AMintas on a Summer's day  
to shun Apollo's beams,  
Was driving of his flock away,  
to cast some cooling streams.  
And through a Forest as they went  
hard by a river's side,  
A voice which from a grove was sent  
invited him to bide.   

The voice well seemed for to bewray  
some Malcontented mind,  
For oft times did he hear it say  
ten thousand times unkind:  
The remnant of that raging moan  
did all escape his ear,  
For every word brought forth a groan  
and every groan a tear.   

And nearer when it did repair,  
both face and voice he knew,  
He saw that Phillis was come there  
her plaints for to renew,  
Thus leaving her unto her plaints  
and sorrow slaking groans,  
He heard her deadly discontents  
thus all break't forth at once.   

Amintas is thy love to me  
of such a light account,  
That thou disdainest to look on me  
or love as thou was wont.  
Were those the Oaths that thou didst make  
the Vows thou didst conceive,  
When I for thy contentment sake  
my heart's delight did leave.   

How oft didst thou protest to me  
the Heaven should turn to naught,  
The Sun should first obscured be,  
ere thou wouldst change thy thought.  
Then heaven desolve without delay  
Sun show thy face no more,  
Amintas love is lost for aye,  
and woe is me therefore.   

Well might I if I had been wise  
foreséen what now I find,  
But too much love did dull mine eyes  
and made my judgement blind:  
But O alas! the effect doth prove,  
that it was plain deceit,  
For true and undefiled love  
will never turn to hate.   

All thy behaviours were (God knows)  
too smooth and too discreet,  
Like Sugar which empoisoned grows,  
suspects because it's sweet.  
Thine oaths and vows did promise more  
than well thou couldst perform  
Much like a calm that comes before  
an unexpected storm.   

God knows it would not grieve me much  
for to be killed for thee,  
But oh, too near it doth me touch  
that thou shouldst murder me;  
God knows I care not for the pain  
can come for loss of breath,  
'tis thy unkindness cruel Swain  
that grives me to the death.   

Amintas tell me if thou may,  
if any fault of mine  
Hath given thee cause for to betray  
mine heart's delight and thine:  
No, no alas it could not be,  
my love to thee was such,  
Unless that I if urged thee  
in loving thee to much.   

But ah, alas what do I gain,  
by this my fond complaint,  
My dolour doubles my disdain  
my grief thy joy augment.  
Although it yields no greater good,  
it oft doth ease my mind,  
For to reproach the ingratitude  
of him that is unkind.   

With that her hand, cold, wan and pale,  
upon her breast she lays  
And seeing that her breath did fail,  
she sighs and then she says,  
Amintas, and with that poor Maid  
she sighed again full sore,  
But after that she never said,  
nor sighed, nor breathed no more.   
Finis.