Classic Poem

Eunica skornde me, when her I would have sweetly kist,
And railing at me said, Goe with a mischiefe, where thou list!
Thinkst thou, a wretched Neteheard, mee to kisse? I have no will
After the Countrie Guise to smouch; and Cittie lips I skill.
My lovely mouth so much as in thy dreame thou shalt not touch.
How dost thou look! How dost thou talke! How plaiest thou the slouch!
How daintilie thou speakst! What courting words thou bringest out!
How soft a beard thou hast! How faire thy locks hang round about!
Thy lips are like a sickmans lips! thy hands, so black they bee,
And rankely thou dost smel, awaie, less thou defilest me!
Having thus sed, she spatterd on her bosome twise or thrise;
And, still beholding me from top to toe in skorneful wise,
She mutterd with her lips, and with her eies she lookte aside,
And of her beutie wondrous coy she was; her mouth she wride,
And proudly mockt me to my face. My blud boild in each vaine,
And red I woxe for griefe as doth the rose with dewye raine.
Thus leaving me, awaie she flung, since when, it vexeth me
That I should be so skornde of such a filthie drab as she.
Ye Shepeheards, tel me true, am not I fair as any swan?
Hath of a sodaine anie God made me another man?
For well I wote, before a cumlie grace in me did shine,
Like ivy round about a tree, and dekt this bearde of mine.
My crisped lockes like Parslie, on my temples wont to spred;
And on my eiebrowes black, a milke white forhed glistered:
More seemelie were mine eies than are MINERVAS eies, I know.
My mouth for sweetnes passed cheese, and from my mouth did flow
A voice more sweete than hunniecombes. Sweete is my rundelaie,
When on the whistle, flute or pipe, or cornet I do plaie.
And all the weemen on our hills, do saie that I am faire,
And all do love me well: but these that breathe the citty air
Did never love me yet. And why? The cause is this, I know,
That I a Neteheard am. They heare not how, is vales below
Fair BACCHUS kept a heard of beastes. Nor can these nice ones tell
How VENUS, raving for a Neteheards love, with him did dwell
Upon the hills of Phrygia; and how she lovde againe
ADONIS in the woods, and mournde in woods when hee was slaine
What was ENDYMION? Was he not a Neteheard? Yet the Moone
Did love this Neteheard so, that from the heavens descending soone,
She came to Latmos grove where with the daintie lad she laie.
And RHEA, thou a Neteheard dost bewaile, and thou, al daie
O mighty JUPITER but for a shepeheardes boy didst straie.
EUNICA only, dained not a Neteheard for to love:
Better, forsooth, than CYBEL, VENUS, or the Moone above.
And VENUS, thou hereafter must not love thy faire ADONE
In cittie nor on hill, but all the night must sleep alone.