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GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. 189
I am not what I seeme to bee,
My clothes and sexe doe differ fair:
I am a woman, woe is me !
Born to greeffe and irksome care.
For my beloved, and well-beloved, 25
My wayward cruelty could kill: And though my leaves will nought avail,
Most dearely I bewail him still.
He was the flower of raoble wights,
None ever more sincere colde bee ; so
Of comely mien and shape hee was,
And tenderlye hee loved mee.
When thus I saw he foved me well, Igrewe so proud his pame to see,
That I, who did not know myselfe, ss
Thought scorne of such a youth as hee.
And grew soe coy and nice to please, As women's lookes are often soe,
He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth,
Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. «
Thus being wearyed with delayes To see I pittyed not his greeffe,
41—52. Stanzas 11, 12, 13, have been paraphrased by Goldsmith in his ballad of Edwin and Emma. |
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