Corydon's Supplication to Phyllis

Sweet Phyllis, if a silly swain May sue to thee for grace, See not thy loving shepherd slain With looking on thy face; But think what power thou hast got Upon my flock and me; Thou seest they now regard me not, But all do follow thee. And if I have so far presumed, With prying in thine eyes, Yet let not comfort be consumed That in thy pity lies; But as thou art that Phyllis fair, That fortune favour gives, So let not love die in despair That in thy favour lives. The deer do browse upon the briar The birds do pick the cherries; And will not Beauty grant Desire One handful of her berrie If it be so that thou hast sworn That none shall look on thee Yet let me know thou dost not scorn To cast a look on me But if thy beauty make thee proud, Think then what is ordain'd; The heavens have never yet allow'd That love should be disdain'd. Then lest the fates that favour love Should curse thee for unkind, Let me report for thy behoof, The honour of thy mind; Let Corydon with full consent Set down what he hath seen, That Phyllida with Love's content Is sworn the shepherds' queen. Nicholas Breton