When Willy once he stayed, To fetch home a lamb that straied, Under a hill-side, A bonny lasse he spide, Of whom he was well apaied. Her cheeks like cherries growing, Her lips like rose-buds blowing; Her eyes black and cleare, As the sloe upon the breere, Or the worme in the hedge lies glowing. Her waist so small and slender, Her skin so soft and tender, He sigh'd and he said That she was a fair maid, And his love to her he'd render. The wind did seem to play With her tresses as she lay; Betwixt hope and feare, He was in despaire, To give her the time of the day. Yet resolv'd to court this minion, There stept in a new opinion; This timorous clowne Thought Phoebe had come down To speake with her loved Endimion. His errand quite forgotten, He lean'd to a tree was rotten; He swore by the masse, There was never such a lasse! His heart with a shaft was shotten. Then boldly he stept unto her, His eyes shot affection through her; He cast away fears, And pricking up his ears, Thus Willy began to wooe her. "Good day," quoth he, "my honny! Thou dearer to me than money; I'le lose my little lambe, And gladly give the damme, To be lov'd by a lasse so bonny. "Now list to what I'le tell thee, There's none in shape doth excell thee, So thou wilt wed me, None happier than thee; For better day ere befell me. "Of nuts I'le give thee plenty, And red side apples twenty; My butter I'le leese, To make thee summer cheese, And creame to make egge-pies dainty. "My lambs new gowns shall bear thee, No daylockes shall ere come near thee; The poultry of the towne Shall cackle without downe, Ere I'le want a soft bed to cheer thee. "My bagpipes mirth shall make thee, Each morn with a song I'le wake thee; At night I'le not faile To tell a merry tale, And make thy sad thoughts forsake thee." THE SECOND PART. "White lillies shall pave the closes, Each brier shall blush with roses; The gross green and sweet, Shall kiss thy tender feet, And the medows shall yield thee posies. "With shady bowers set ore thee, With thousand contents I'le store thee; While by some clear brooke, With my little dog and hooke, I'le bring my fine ewes before thee." While thus he was close set at her, Quoth she, "I suspect the matter, For an houres sport; Like the false alluring court, The country has learned to flatter. "Therefore leave off thy wooing; I love not such short doing, And come unto the matter; I love not for to flatter, True affection hates long suing. "But if your love will prove steady, Till Hymen had made him ready, Then surfeit all night In a captive maids delight, Which yet but ayre hath fed ye."