Tom and Will.
OR ,
The Shepars Sheepfold.
Both doated on a beautiful Lass
Both were alike respected;
Both thought themselves i'th better case,
Both were at last neglected.
To a pleasant new Country Tune,
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TOm & Will were Shepherd Swains,
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who lov'd and liv'd together;
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When fair Pastora grav'd the Plains,
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alack why come we thither?
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For though they fed two several Flocks,
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they had but one desire,
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Pastora's eyes, and locks,
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set both their hearts on fire.
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Tom came of honest gentle race,
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by Father and by Mother,
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Will was noble, but alas,
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he was a younger Brother.
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Tom was toilsome, Will was sad,
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no [Hunts]-Man, nor no [Fowler.]
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Tom was held the proper Lad,
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but Will the better Bowler.
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The scorching flames their heart did bear,
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then they could no longer smother
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Although they knew they Rivals were,
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they still lov'd one another.
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Tom would drink her helth and swear,
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this Nation will not want her,
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Will could not take her by the ear,
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and with his voice inchant her.
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Tom keeps always in her sight,
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and ne'r forgot his duty;
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Will was witty and could write,
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some sonnets on her beauty.
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T Hus did she handle Tom and Will ,
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who both did dote upon her;
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For graciously she us'd them still,
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and still preserv'd her honour.
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Yet she was so sweet a she,
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and of so sweet behaviour,
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That Tom thought he, & Will thought he,
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was chiefly in her favour.
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Pastora was a loving Lass,
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and of a comely feature,
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Devinely good and fair she was,
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and kind to every creature.
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Of favour she was provident,
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and yet not over-sparing,
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She gave no less encouragement,
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yet kept them from despairing.
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Which of these two she loved best,
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or whether she lovd either,
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Tis thought they'l find it to their cost,
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that she indeed lov'd neither.
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She dealt her favour equally;
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they both were well contented,
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She kept them both from jealousie,
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not easily prevented.
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Tale-telling fame hath made report,
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of fair Pastora's beauty,
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Pastora's sent for to the Court,
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there for to perform her duty.
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Unto the Court Pastora's gone'
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it had been no Court without her,
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Our Queen amongst all her train had none
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not half so fair about her,
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Tom hung his Dog and threw away,
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his Sheep-crook and his Wallet,
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Will burst his Pipes, and curst the day,
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that e're he made a Sonnet.
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Their nine-pins & their bowls they break
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their joys are turn'd to fears;
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'Tis time for me an end to make,
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let them go shake their ears.
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FINIS.
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