Page:An English Garner Ingatherings from Our History and Literature (Volume 1 1877).pdf/320

 Thy raiment shall be thin, Made of a weaver's skin! Yet all's not worth a pin. PHILLADA flouts me.

Fair maiden! have a care And in time take me. I can have those as fair; If you forsake me. For DOLL the dairymaid Laught on me lately: And wanton WINIFRID Favours me greatly. One throws milk on my clothes; T'other plays with my nose. What wanton signs are those! PHILLADA flouts me.

I cannot work and sleep All at a season; Love wounds my heart so deep, Without all reason. I 'gin to pine away With grief and sorrow; Like to a fatted beast Penned in a meadow. I shall be dead, I fear, Within this thousand year; And all for very fear PHILLADA flouts me.