Phoebe sat
Sweet she sat,
Sweet sat Phoebe when I saw her,
White her brow,
Coy her eye:
Brow and eye how much you please me!

Words I spent,
Sighs I sent,
Sighs and words could never draw her.
Oh my love
Thou art lost
Since no sight could ever ease thee.

Phoebe sat
By a fount
Sitting by a fount I spied her:
Sweet her touch,
Rare her voice
Touch and voice what may distain you!

As she sung,
I did sigh,
And by sighs whilst that I tried her,
Oh mine eyes!
You did lose
Her first sight whose want doth pain you.

Phoebe's flocks
White as wool,
Yet were Phoebe's locks more whiter.
Phoebe's eyes,
Dove-like mild,
Dove-like eyes both mild and cruel

Montan swears,
In your lamps
He will die for to delight her.
Phoebe yield,
Or I die:
Shall true hearts be fancy's fuel?"