No More Learning

_ Mirtillo, tell us whither.
_Mir. _ Where she and I shall never meet together.
_Mon. _ Forfend it Pan, and, Pales, do thou please
To give an end. _Mir. _ To what? _Sil. _ Such griefs as these.
_Mir. _ Never, O never! Still I may endure
The wound I suffer, never find a cure.
_Mon. _ Love for thy sake will bring her to these hills
And dales again. _Mir.
_ No, I will languish still;
And all the while my part shall be to weep,
And with my sighs, call home my bleating sheep:
And in the rind of every comely tree
I'll carve thy name, and in that name kiss thee.
_Mon. _ Set with the sun thy woes. _Sil. _ The day grows old,
And time it is our full-fed flocks to fold.
_Chor. _ The shades grow great, but greater grows our sorrow;
But let's go steep
Our eyes in sleep,
And meet to weep
To-morrow.

_Quintell_, quintain or tilting board.
_Bents_, grasses.
_Pales_, the goddess of sheepfolds.


422. THE POET LOVES A MISTRESS, BUT NOT TO MARRY.

I do not love to wed,
Though I do like to woo;
And for a maidenhead
I'll beg and buy it too.

I'll praise and I'll approve
Those maids that never vary;
And fervently I'll love,
But yet I would not marry.

I'll hug, I'll kiss, I'll play,
And, cock-like, hens I'll tread,
And sport it any way
But in the bridal bed.

For why?