PARIS. Enone, while we bin disposed to walk, Thou hast a sort of pretty tales in store; 'Dare say no nymph in Ida's woods hath more. Again, beside thy sweet alluring face, In telling them thou hast a special grace. Then prithee, sweet, afford some pretty thing, Some toy that from thy pleasant wit doth spring. CENONE. Paris, my heart's contentment and my choice, Use thou thy pipe, and I will use my voice; So shall thy just request not be denied, And time well spent, and both be satisfied. PARIS. Well, gentle nymph, although thou do me wrong, CENONE. And whereon then shall be my roundelay? To Jove, to Neptune, and to Dis below; Against the Gods and State of Jupiter; How Phorcyas' 'ympe, that was so trick and fair, A piece of cunning, trust me for the nonce, How Pluto raught Queen Ceres' daughter thence, Of Daphne turned into the Laurel Tree, How fair Narcissus, tooting on his shade, What force in love, what wit in sorrow, dwells; What pains unhappy Souls abide in Hell, They say, because on Earth they lived not well, How Danaus' daughters ply their endless task; PARIS AND ENONE. 66 All these are old and known, I know; yet if thou wilt have any, Choose some of these; for, trust me else, Enone hath not many. PARIS. Nay, what thou wilt; but since my cunning not compares with thine, Begin some toy that I can play upon this pipe of mine. CENONE. There is a pretty Sonnet then, we call it CUPID'S CURSE: They that do change old love for new, pray Gods they change for worse." COCK up, fair lids! the treasure of my heart, In this rare subject, from thy common right, SOME, Sleep, O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, And if these things, as being thine by right, |