COMPLETE ANGLER. 277 



COME, SHEPHERDS, DECK YOUR HEADS.* 



(From a MS. in the collection of the late Mr Heber, communicated by 

 Mr T. Rodd.) 



COME, Shepheards, deck your heads Faire Venus made her chast, 



No more with bayes but willowes, And Ceres beauty gave her, 



Forsake your downie beds Pan wept when shee was lost, 



And make the downes your pillowes, The Satyrs strove to have her ; 



And mourne with me, since crost Yet seem'd she to theire view 



As never yet was no man, So coy, so nice, that no man 



For shepheard neaver lost Could judge but he that knew 



So plain a dealing woman. Shee was plaine-cealinge woman. 



All yee forsaken wooers At all her pretty parts 



That ever were distressed, I nere enough can wonder ; 



And all ye lusty doers She overcame all hearts, 



That ever wenches pressed, Yet shee all hearts came under ; 



That losses can condole Her inward parts were sweete, 



And altogeather summon Yet not so sweete as common, 



To mourne for the poor soule Shepheard shall neaver meet 



Of my plaine-dealinge woman. So plaine a dealinge woman. 



"AS AT NOON DULCINA RESTED." 

 (Printed in Ellis's Specimens of Early English Poetry, 2d ed. p. 189.) 



As at noon Dulcina rested Improves delight : 



In her sweet and shady bower, Which she denies : night's murky noon, 

 Came a shepherd, and requested In Venus' plays, 



In her lap to sleep an hour. Makes bold (she says) ; 



But from her look Forego me now, come to me soon. 



A wound he took But wha , 



But in vain she did conjure him, Of lingering night 



To depart her presence so, Forego the present joys of noon ? 



H.iving a thousand tongues t' allure him, Tho' ne'er so fair 



And but one to bid him go. Her speeches were, 



When lips invite, Forego me now, come to me soon. 



And 



wrbo e ots1o y s7 y Th r e tongue ma y tdl what th> 



~ say> ,, Joys unseen are never sung. 



Forego me now, come to me soon ? Did she consent 



He demands, what time for pleasure Or he relent, 



Can there be more fit than now ? Accepts he night, or grants she noon, 



Sii? says, night gives love that leisure Left he her a maid 



Which the day doth not allow. Or not, she said, 



He says, the sight Forego me now, come to me soon. 



"PHILLIDA FLOUTS ME." 



(Printed in Ritson's "Ancient Songs," ed. 1790, p. 236, from the "Theatre 

 of Compliments," in 1689.) 



OH ! what a plague is love, She wavers with the wind, 

 I cannot bear it ; As a ship saileth : 



She will inconstant prove, Please her the best I may, 



I greatly fear it ; She loves still to gainsay, 



It so torments my mind, Alack, and well-a-day ! 

 That my heart faileth ; Phillida flouts me. 



* In the third, fourth, and fifth, as well as in the present edition of "The Complete 

 Angler," this word is erroneously printed "herds," 



