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¶A Dialogue Song betweene Syluanus and Arsilius.
Syl.
SHepheard, why do'st thou holde thy peace?
Sing, and thy ioy to vs report:
Arsil.
My ioy (good Shepheard) should be lesse,
If it were tolde in any sort.
Syl.
Though such great fauours thou do'st winne,
Yet daigne thereof to tell some part:
Arsil.
The hardest thing is to begin,
In enterprizes of such Art.
Syl.
Come make an end, no cause omit,
Of all the ioyes that thou art in:
Arsil.
How should I make an end of it,
That am not able to begin?
Syl.
It is not iust, we should consent,
That thou shoul'dst not thy ioyes recite:
Arsil.
The soule that felt the punishment,
Doth onely feele this great delight.
Syl.
That ioy is small, and nothing fine,
That is not tolde abroad to many:
Arsil.
If it be such a ioy as mine,
It neuer can be tolde to any.
Syl.
How can this hart of thine containe
A ioy, that is of such great force?
Arsil.
I haue it, where I did retaine
My passions of so great remorse.
Syl.
So great and rare a ioy is this,
No man is able to with-hold:
Arsil.
But greater that a pleasure is,
The lesse it may with words be told.