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¶The Shepheard Dorons Iigge.
THrough the shrubs as I can crack, for my Lambs pretty ones, mongst many little ones, Nimphs I meane, whose haire was black As the Crow. Like as the Snow Her face and browes shin'd I weene, I saw a little one, a bonny pretty one, As bright, buxome, and as sheene: As was shee On her knee That lull'd the God, whose arrowes warmes such merry little ones, such faire-fac'd pretty ones, As dally in Loues chiefest harmes. Such was mine, Whose gray eyne Made me loue: I gan to wooe this sweet little one, this bonny pretty one. I wooed hard a day or two, Till she bad, Be not sad, Wooe no more, I am thine owne, thy dearest little one, thy truest pretty one. Thus was faith and firme loue showne, As behooues Shepheards Loues.FINIS.
Ro. Greene.