Jug, jug! Fair fall the nightingal,
Whose tender breast
Chants out her merry madrigal,
With hawthorn pressed:
Te'u, te'u! thus sings she even by even,
And represents the melody in heaven:
Tis, tis ,
I am not as I wish.

Rape-defilid Philomel
In her sad mischance
Tells what she is forced to tell,
While the satyrs dance:
" Unhappy I," quoth she, " unhappy I,
That am betrayed by Tereus' treachery;
Tis, tis ,
I am not as I wish.

" Chaste-unchaste, deflowered, yet
Spotless in heart,
Lust was all that he could get,
For all his art:
For I ne'er attention lent
To his suit, nor gave consent;
Tis, tis ,
I am not as I wish."

Thus hath faithless Tereus made
Heartless Philomele
Moan her in her forlorn shade,
Where grief I feel —
Grief that wounds me to the heart,
Which though gone hath left her smart;
Tis, tis ,
I am not as I wish.