Of wooing repenting—

"Who trust to undoing,

Lament them too late."

 He. Nay, nay, when I woo thee, Thy mother might spy on All harm I shall do thee. 

Thy mother might spy on

All harm I shall do thee.

 She. I come, then—I come! To follow Arion Where green woods be dumb.  

To follow Arion

Where green woods be dumb.

SONG

Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck, Arrow of Love—I bare my neck Down to the bosom. See, no fleck Of blood! I have never a wound; I go Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho! What 'neath my girdle flutters so?  'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings, 'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings; While in the wound it nests and sings— Heigh-ho! 

Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck,

Arrow of Love—I bare my neck

Down to the bosom. See, no fleck

Of blood! I have never a wound; I go

Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho!

What 'neath my girdle flutters so?

'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings,

'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings;

While in the wound it nests and sings—

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