PER. And though my bale with death I bought, WIL. Hey, ho, heavy cheer! PER. Yet should thilk lass not from my thought, WIL. So you may buy gold too dear. PER. But whether in painful love I pine, WIL. Hey, ho, pinching pain! PER. Or thrive in wealth, she shall be mine, WIL. But if thou can her obtain. PER. And if for graceless grief I die, WIL. Hey, ho, graceless grief! PER. Witness she slew me with her eye, WIL. Let thy folly be the prief. PER. And you, that saw it, simple sheep, WIL. Hey, ho, the fair flock! PER. For prief thereof, my death shall weep, WIL. And moan with many a mock. PER. So learn'd I love on a holy eve, WIL. Hey, ho, holy-day! PER. That ever since my heart did grieve, WIL. Now endeth our roundelay." CUD. Sicker, such a roundel never heard I none; Little lacketh Perigot of the best, And Willie is not greatly overgone, So weren his under-songs well addrest. WIL. Herdgroom, I fear me thou have a squint eye; Arede uprightly, who has the victory. CUD. Faith of my soul, I deem each have gained; Forthy let the lamb be Willie his own; And for Perigot, so well hath him pained, To him be the wroughten mazer alone. PER. Perigot is well pleased with the doom, Ne can Willie wite the witeless herdgroom. WIL. Never dempt more right of beauty, I ween, The shepheard of Ida that judged Beauty's queen. CUD. But tell me, shepheards, should it not yshend Your roundels fresh, to hear a doleful verse Of Rosalind (who knows not Rosalind?) That Colin made? ilk can I you rehearse. PER. Now say it, Cuddie, as thou art a lad; With merry thing it's good to medle sad. WIL. Faith of my soul, thou shalt ycrowned be In Colin's stead, if thou this song arede; For never thing on earth so pleaseth me As him to hear, or matter of his deed. CUD. Then listen each unto my heavy lay, And tune your pipes as ruthful as ye may. "Ye wasteful Woods! bear witness of my woe, Wherein my plaints did oftentimes resound; Ye careless Birds are privy to my cries, Which in your songs were wont to make a part: Thou, pleasant Spring, hast lull'd me oft asleep, Whose streams my trickling tears did oft augment! "Resort of people doth my griefs augment, The walled towns do work my greater woe; The forest wide is fitter to resound The hollow echo of my careful cries. I hate the house, since thence my love did part, Whose wailful want debars mine eyes of sleep. "Let streams of tears supply the place of sleep; Let all, that sweet is, void; and all, that may augment My dole, draw near! More meet to wail my woe Be the wild woods, my sorrows to resound, Than bed, nor bower, both which I fill with cries, When I them see so waste, and find no part