But you haue seene me melancholy many a time:
Perhaps it is the glowing weather now
That makes me seeme so ill at ease to you.

1 _Cha_. Fine shifts to cover that you cannot hide!
No, _Phoebus_; by your looks may be discride
Some hid conceit that harbors in your thought
Which hath therein some straunge impression wrought,
That by the course thereof you seeme to mee
An other man then you were wont to bee.

_Ap_. No, Ladies; you deceiue yourselues in mee:
What likelihood or token do ye see
That may perswade it true that you suppose?

2 _Cha_. _Appollo_ hence a great suspition growes:--
Yeare not so pleasaunt now as earst in companie;
Ye walke alone and wander solitarie;
The pleasaunt toyes we did frequent sometime
Are worne away and growne out of prime;
Your Instrument hath lost his siluer sound,
That rang of late through all this grouie ground;
Your bowe, wherwith the chace you did frequent,
Is closde in case and long hath been unbent.
How differ you from that _Appollo_ now
That whilom sat in shade of Lawrell bowe,
And with the warbling of your Iuorie Lute
T'alure the Fairies for to daunce about!
Or from th'_Appollo_ that with bended bowe
Did many a sharp and wounding shaft bestowe
Amidst the Dragon _Pithons_ scalie wings,
And forc't his dying blood to spout in springs!
Beleeue me, _Phebus_, who sawe you then and now
Would thinke there were a wondrous change in you.

_Ap_. Alas, faire dames, to make my sorows plain
Would but reuiue an auncient wound again,
Which grating presently vpon my minde
Doth leaue a fear of former woes behinde.

3 _Cha_. _Phoebus_, if you account vs for the same
That tender thee and loue _Appollo's_ name,
Poure forth to vs the fountaine of your woe
Fro whence the spring of these your sorows flowe;
If we may any way redresse your mone
Commaund our best, harme we will do you none.

_Ap_. Good Ladies, though I hope for no reliefe
He shewe the ground of this my present griefe:
This time of yeare, or there about it was,
(Accursed be the time, tenne times, alas!)
When I from _Delphos_ tooke my iourney downe
To see the games in noble Sparta Towne.
There saw I that wherein I gan to ioy,
_Amilchars_ sonne, a gallant comely boy
(Hight _Hiacinth_), full fifteene yeares of age,
Whom I intended to haue made my Page;
And bare as great affection to the boy
As euer _Ioue_ in _Ganimede_ did ioy.
Among the games my selfe put in a pledge,
To trie my strength in throwing of the sledge;
Which,