Doris, I love not, yet I hardly bear Disgraceful terms, which you have spoke in scorn. You are not loved; and that's the cause I fear; For why? My love of Jove himself was born. Feeding his sheep of late amidst this plain, Whenas we nymphs did sport us on the shore, He scorned you all, my love for to obtain; That grieved your hearts; I knew as much before. Nay, smile not, nymphs, the truth I only tell, For few can brook that others should excel. DORIS Should I envy that blind did you that spite? Or that your shape doth please so foul a groom? The shepherd thought of milk, you looked so white; The clown did err, and foolish was his doom. Your look was pale, and so his stomach fed; But far from fair, where white doth want his red. GALATEA Though pale my look, yet he my love did crave, And lovely you, unliked, unloved I view; It's better far one base than none to have; Your fair is foul, to whom there's none will sue. My love doth tune his love unto his harp. His shape is rude, but yet his wit is sharp. DORIS Leave off, sweet nymph, to grace a worthless clown. He itched with love, and then did sing or say; The noise was such as all the nymphs did frown, And well suspected that some ass did bray. The woods did chide to hear this ugly sound The prating echo scorned for to repeat; This grisly voice did fear the hollow ground, Whilst artless fingers did his harpstrings beat. Two bear-whelps in his arms this monster bore, With these new puppies did this wanton play; Their skins was rough but yet your loves was more; He fouler was and far more fierce than they. I cannot choose, sweet nymph, to think, but smile That some of us thou fear'st will thee beguile. GALATEA Scorn not my love, until it can be known That you have one that's better of your own. DORIS I have no love, nor if I had, would boast; Yet wooed have been by such as well might speed: But him to love, the shame of all the coast, So ugly foul, as yet I have no need. Now thus we learn what foolish love can do, To think him fair that's foul and ugly too. To hear this talk, I sat behind an oak, And marked their words and penned them as they spoke. AD LECTOREM, DISTICHON CUJUSDAM DE AUTORE Lascivi quaeres fuerit cur carminis autor: Carmine lascivus, mente pudicus erat. A LOVER'S MAZE True are my thoughts, my thoughts that are untrue, Blind are my eyes, my eyes that are not blind, New is my love, my love that is not new, Kind is that fair, that fair that is not kind. Thus eyes and thoughts, that fairest fair, my love, Blind and untrue, unkind, unconstant prove.