And euery Morne by dawning of the day, When _Phœbus_ riseth with a blushing face, _Siluanus_ Chappel-Clarkes shall chaunt a Lay, And play thee hunts-vp in thy resting place: My Coote thy Chamber, my bosome thy Bed; Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head. And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad, (Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre:) The Meades with _Floras_ treasure should be strowde, (The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre.) And by a siluer Well (with golden sands) Ile sit me downe, and wash thine yuory hands. And in the sweltring heate of summer time, I would make Cabinets for thee (my Loue:) Sweet-smelling Arbours made of Eglantine Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy Doue. Coole Cabinets of fresh greene Laurell boughs Should shadow vs, ore-set with thicke-set Eughes. Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs, Within the Christall of a Pearle-bright brooke, Paued with dainty pibbles to the brims; Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thy selfe mayst looke; Weele goe to _Ladon_, whose still trickling noyse, Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy ioyes. Or if thoult goe vnto the Riuer side, To angle for the sweet fresh-water fish: Arm'd with thy implements that will abide (Thy rod, hooke, line) to take a dainty dish; Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke, Thy hooks of siluer, and thy bayts of milke. Or if thou lou'st to heare sweet Melodie, Or pipe a Round vpon an Oaten Reede, Or make thy selfe glad with some myrthfull glee, Or play them Musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede; To _Pans_ owne Pipe Ile helpe my louely Lad, (_Pans_ golden Pype) which he of _Syrinx_ had. Or if thou dar'st to climbe the highest Trees For Apples, Cherries, Medlars, Peares, or Plumbs, Nuts, Walnuts, Filbeards, Chest-nuts, Ceruices, The hoary Peach, when snowy winter comes; I have fine Orchards full of mellowed frute; Which I will giue thee to obtain my sute. Not proud _Alcynous_ himselfe can vaunt, Of goodlier Orchards or of brauer Trees Than I haue planted; yet thou wilt not graunt My simple sute; but like the honey Bees Thou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone; And lou'st mee for my Coyne till I haue none. Leave _Guendolen_ (sweet hart) though she be faire Yet is she light; not light in vertue shining: But light in her behauiour, to impaire Her honour in her Chastities declining; Trust not her teares, for they can watonnize, When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes. If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home; My sheep-cote shall be strowd with new greene rushes: Weele haunt the trembling Prickets as they rome About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes; I haue a pie-bald Curre to hunt the Hare: So we will liue with daintie forrest fare.