A shepherd in a shade
His plaining made
Of love and lovers wrong
Unto the fairest lasse
That trode on grasse
And thus began his song

Restore, restore my hart againe
Which love by thy sweet looks hath slaine
Least that inforst by your distaine
I sing, fie fie on love
It is a foolish thing

Since love and fortune will
I honour still
Your faire and lovely eye
What conquest will it be
Sweet nymph, for thee
If I for sorrow dye

Restore, restore my hart againe
Which love by thy sweet looks hath slaine
Least that inforst by your distaine
I sing, fie fie on love
It is a foolish thing
My hart where have you laid
O cruell maide
To kill when you might save
Why have yee cast it forth
As nothing worth
Without a tombe or grave

Restore, restore my hart againe
Which love by thy sweet looks hath slaine
Least that inforst by your distaine
I sing, fie fie on love
It is a foolish thing

O let it bee intombed and lye
In your sweet minde and memorie
Least I resound on every warbling string
Fye fye on love
It is a foolish thing