In a morninge when Flora was adorninge
the earth w th flowers
By a fountayne that sprunge beneath a mountayne
besett with bowers
Poore Melanthus silly sheephearde swayne
his flock satt keepinge and sadly weepinge
but all in vayne, sorrowe had his hearte so pinde
he sight & sobbinge cryde Byanca proues vnkinde

Cupids fiers enflamde him w th desiers
he could not master
Still loue woundes him, but he too cruell found him
to giue a plaster
At the length to giue his passiones vente
with his sad sorrowes a truce he borrowes
to empty out his cause of discontent
whylst gentle Ecco lent an eare to his lament

fayre yett cruell Byanca my harts Iewell
why doest thou flye me
Cruell beuty that forct my heart to deuty
canst thou deny me
Can so sweete an outside shroude disdayne
can virtues temple with loue dissemble
to giue a heart and take it backe againe
O pitty sweete Byanca and ease me of my payne.

Then he sighed as w th her name affrighted
his hartstringes breakinge
On the showers he poowrd his bryny showers
in silence speakinge
With a groane that Ecco soone replyde
the ayre rebounded and all confounded
this woofull note with faintinge voyce he cryde
farewell vnkinde Byanca and so Melanthus dyde