Amarillis:
Daphne, Shepheards if they knew 
Their happines would not be Kings;

Daphne:
Ther's nothing in the world more true 
Than that which Amarillis sings 

Amarillis:
Then Daphne tune thine Oaten Reed, 
And let us know this oncly strife, 
Whether thy Pipe or mine exceed 
In singing of a Shepheards life. 

Daphne:
Upon our huts of Turfe without 
The grasse within the Ivie's sprout, 
The hills yeeld sedge and rusnes store 
To thack the roose and strew the floore. 

Amarillis:
The angry Thistles shed 
Us Down to make our bed.

Daphne:
Lambkins bequeath us when they die, 
The blankets warm wherein we lie, 

Amarillis:
The morning sunne at sluggards blushes 

Daphne:
But lights us early through the bushes, 

Both:
Where Philomel amongst the Roses,
Her sweet, her sweet melody discloses;

Amarillis:
And whilest we wash our eyes and hands 
In basons of some Fountaine pure, 
With melting Notes poore heart shee stands, 
As if shee held the weeping Ewer.

Both:
Hence with devotion as we go 
T'unfold our flocks the fields we strow, 
Till pierced clouds th'impression feele, 
And tuft the Cushion where wee kneele.

Amarillis:
Then ope the grate of hayle wands 
Wherein our bleating Prisoners stand. 

Daphne:
The Wether Rings for joy his Bell.

Amarillis:
Whilst from their pound the Ewes doe bound 
At the sound of the merry peale. 

Daphne:
The pretty Lambe but new awake, 
Bridles in her pretty chin, 
And stretches out her curled back. 

Amarillis:
Nor are our pipes mute as they passe 
To nibble up the three leav'd grasse, 

Both:
And straine such rufts of greene as these, 
Into their into their milke and silver fleece, 

Amarillis:
When the high mountaines give no shade, 

Daphne:
The woods and fountains lend their ayd.

Amarillis:
Where harmles swains doe joine their mirth, 
Their bottles and their bags with ours, 

Daphne:
As on the table of the Earth 
Wee feast and sport it in the bowers

Amarillis:
Whil'st Phoebus rages, 
Pan asswages, 

Both:
To whose ayd we sing;

Daphne:
And when the heat 
Makes us retreat,

Both:
upon the Downs we make a Ring, 

Amarillis:
Then our fancies show in Dances. 

Daphne:
Change and chances 
Incident to every thing

Amarillis:
Then folde our flockes, 

Daphne:
And to our shed,

Both:
And with the Lambe 
Wee goe to bed.

Chorus:
Ye purple Robes, and Crowned heads, 
Upon this life the shepheard leads, 
Could you without ambition looke 
you'd change your Scepter, for his Crook.