5 Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe-- I will die ere she shall grieve. If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go: If she be not fit for me, What care I for whom she be? THE STEADFAST SHEPHERD. 1 Hence away, thou Siren, leave me, Pish! unclasp these wanton arms; Sugared words can ne'er deceive me, Though thou prove a thousand charms. Fie, fie, forbear; No common snare Can ever my affection chain: Thy painted baits, And poor deceits, Are all bestowed on me in vain. 2 I'm no slave to such as you be; Neither shall that snowy breast, Rolling eye, and lip of ruby, Ever rob me of my rest: Go, go, display Thy beauty's ray To some more soon enamoured swain: Those common wiles Of sighs and smiles Are all bestowed on me in vain. 3 I have elsewhere vowed a duty; Turn away thy tempting eye: Show not me a painted beauty: These impostures I defy: My spirit loathes Where gaudy clothes And feigned oaths may love obtain: I love her so, Whose look swears No, That all your labours will be vain. 4 Can he prize the tainted posies Which on every breast are worn, That may pluck the virgin roses From their never-touched thorn? I can go rest On her sweet breast That is the pride of Cynthia's train: Then stay thy tongue, Thy mermaid song Is all bestowed on me in vain. 5 He's a fool that basely dallies, Where each peasant mates with him: Shall I haunt the thronged valleys, Whilst there's noble hills to climb? No, no, though clowns Are scared with frowns, I know the best can but disdain; And those I'll prove: So will thy love Be all bestowed on me in vain. 6 I do scorn to vow a duty Where each lustful lad may woo; Give me her whose sun-like beauty Buzzards dare not soar unto: She, she it is Affords that bliss For which I would refuse no pain: But such as you, Fond fools, adieu! You seek to captive me in vain. 7 Leave me then, you Siren, leave me: Seek no more to work my harms: Crafty wiles cannot deceive me, Who am proof against your charms: You labour may To lead astray The heart that constant shall remain; And I the while Will sit and smile To see you spend your time in vain. THE SHEPHERD'S HUNTING. ARGUMENT. Cuddy tells how all the swains Pity Roget on the plains; Who, requested, doth relate The true cause of his estate; Which broke off, because 'twas long, They begin a three-man song. WILLY. CUDDY. ROGET. WILLY.