Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence

Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence, Seeke a better place of feeding, Where you may have some defence From the stormes in my breast bleeding, And showers from mine eyes proceeding.

Leave a wretch in whom all woe, Can abide to keepe no measure; Merrie Flocke, such one forgoe Unto whom mirth is displeasure, Onely rich in measures treasure.

Yet alas before you goe, Heare your wofull Masters storie, Which to stones I else would showe; Sorrow onely then hath glorie, When tis excellently sorie.

Stella, fairest Shepheardesse, Fairest, but yet cruelst ever: Stella, whom the heavens still blesse, Though against me she persever, Though I blisse inherit never.

Stella hath refused mee, Stella, who more love hath proved In this caitiffe hart to bee, Than can in good to us be moved Towards Lambkins best beloved.

Stella hath refused mee Astrophel that so well served. In this plesant Spring (Muse) see, While in pride flowers be preserved, Himselfe onely, winter starved.

Why (alas) then doth she sweare That she loveth me so deerely; Seeing me so long to beare Coales of love that burne so cleerly: And yet leave me hopelesse meerly.

Is that love? forsooth I trow. If I saw my good dogg grieved, And a helpe for him did know, My love should not be beleeved, But he were by me releeved.

No, she hates me (welaway) Faining love, somewhat to please me, Knowing if she should display All hate, death soone would seaze me, And of hideous torments ease me.

Then my deare Flocke now adieu: But alas, if in your straying Heavenly Stella meete with you, Tell her in your piteous blaying Her poore Slaves just decaying.