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Depart not griefe and paine,
For when you goe, you soone returne againe.

After they had ended their song, one of them called Doria said. Are these (Cyn∣thia) the riuer bankes, where the Shepherd Syrenus went vp and downe, tormented and lost for the loue of the faire Shepherdesse Diana? I without doubt (said the other) they must be these, for neere vnto a fountaine not far from this medow, it was told me, they tooke of each other their last farewell, which is (I assure thee) wor∣thie to be celebrated with eternall memorie, for the amorous and louing speeches, that passed betweene them. When Syrenus heard this, he was almost out of his wits, to see how the three Nymphes had knowledge of his mishaps. But Cynthia, proceeding, said. And among these riuer banks are many other faire Shepherdesses, and enamoured Shepherds, where loue hath shewed his mightie power and effects, and some cleane contrary to that they hoped for. This is a thing (said Polydora, for so was the third called) not greatly to be maruelled at, bicause there is no successe in loue, (be it neuer so preposterous) which may cause wonder in those that haue passed his disordinate effects. But tell me Cynthia, how knewest thou of this farewell? I knew it thus (said Cynthia) for at that time when they tooke it, neere to the foresaid fountaine, Celius, who behind an Oke was listening to them, heard it, and commit∣ting it to memorie, did truly put it in verse, as it passed betweene them. Therfore if thou wilt heare it, I thinke, I can sing it to the tune of my lute. Faire Cynthia (an∣swered Polydora) so may thy destinies and fortune fauour thee, as thy beauty and good graces are no lesse delightfull vnto vs, then the hearing of so sweete a song shall be (wherein is matter so woorthie to be knowen) if thou wilt deyne to pleasure vs with the recitall of it. Cynthia then taking her harpe, began to sing as followeth.

The song of the Nymph.

NEere to the riuer bankes, with greene
And pleasant trees on euery side,
Where freest mindes would most haue beene,
That neuer felt braue Cupids pride,
To passe the day and tedious how’rs
Amongst those painted meades and flow’rs.

A certaine Shepheard full of woe
(Syrenus call’d) his flockes did feede,
Not sorowfull in outward showe,
But troubled with such greefe indeede,
As cruell loue is wont t’impart
Vnto a painfull louing hart.

This Shepherd euery day did die
For loue he to Diana bare,
A Shepherdesse so fine perdie,
So liuely yoong and passing faire,
Excelling more in beautious feature,
Then any other humane creature.