A Dialogue Betwixt Himself and Mistress Elizawheeler, Under the Name of Amarillis

AMARIL. In country meadows, pearl'd with dew,

And set about with lilies;

There, filling maunds with cowslips, you

May find your Amarillis.

HER. What have the meads to do with thee,

Or with thy youthful hours?

Live thou at court, where thou mayst be

The queen of men, not flowers.

Let country wenches make 'em fine

With posies, since 'tis fitter

For thee with richest gems to shine,

And like the stars to glitter.

AMARIL. You set too-high a rate upon

A shepherdess so homely.

HER. Believe it, dearest, there's not one

I' th' court that's half so comely.

I prithee stay. AMARIL. I must away;

Let's kiss first, then we'll sever;

AMBO And though we bid adieu to day,

We shall not part for ever.