Doris

Leave off, sweet nymph, to grace a worthless clown. He itched with love, and then did sing or say; The noise was such as all the nymphs did frown, And well suspected that some ass did bray. The woods did chide to hear this ugly sound The prating echo scorned for to repeat; This grisly voice did fear the hollow ground, Whilst artless fingers did his harpstrings beat. Two bear-whelps in his arms this monster bore, With these new puppies did this wanton play; Their skins was rough but yet your loves was more; He fouler was and far more fierce than they. I cannot choose, sweet nymph, to think, but smile That some of us thou fear'st will thee beguile.