Oh, what a plague is love!

How shall I bear it? She will inconstant prove,

I greatly fear it. She so torments my mind

That my strength faileth, And wavers with the wind

As a ship saileth. Please her the best I may, She loves still to gainsay, Alack, and well-a-day,

Phillada flouts me!

At the fair yesterday

She did pass by me; She looked another way,

And would not spy me: I woo'd her for to.dine,

But could not get her, Will had her to the wine He might entreat her. With Daniel she did dance, On me she looked askance; Oh, thrice unhappy chance!

Phillada flouts me! Fair maid, be not so coy,

Do not disdain me! I am my mother's joy:

Sweet, entertain me! She'll give me, when she dies,

All that is fitting: Her poultry and her bees,

And her goose sitting,

A pair of mattress beds, And a bag full of shreds, And yet, for all this guedes,

Phillada flouts me! She hath a clout of mine,

Wrought with blue Coventry, Which she keeps for a sign

Of my fidelity: But i' faith, if she flinch,

She shall not wear it; To Tib, my t'other wench,

I mean to bear it. And yet it grieves my heart So soon from her to part: Death strike me with his dart!

Phillada flouts me! Thou shalt eat crudded cream

All the year lasting, And drink the crystal stream

Pleasant in tasting. Whig and whey whilst thou lust,

And bramble berries, Pie-lid and pastry crust,

Pears, plums, and cherries - Thy raiment shall be thin, Made of a weevil's skin - Yet, all's not worth a pin,

Phillada flouts me! In the last month of May

I made her posies; I heard her often say

That she loved roses. To be continued.

Cowslips and gilly-flowers,

And the white lily, I brought to deck the bowers

For my sweet Philly. But she did all disdain, And threw them back again; Therefore 'tis flat and plain

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,

Laugh'd at me lately, And wanton Winifred

Favours me greatly. One throws milk on my clothes, T'other plays with my nose; What wanting signs are those?

Phillada flouts me. I cannot work nor sleep,

At all in season: Love wounds my heart so deep

Without all reason. I 'gin to pine away

In my love's shadow, Like as a fat beast may,

Penn'd in a meadow. I shall be dead, I fear, Within this thousand year: And all for that, my dear Phillada flouts me.