think it best. Had I for warldis unkyndnéss In hairt tane ony heviness, Or fro my plesans bene opprest; I had bene deid lang syne dowtless: For to be blyth me think it best. How evir this warld do change and vary, Lat us in hairt nevir moir be sary, But evir be reddy and addrest To pass out of this frawfull fary: [92b] For to be blyth me think it best. p. 93Dowsabell. p. 93 By MICHAEL DRAYTON. By Far in the country of Arden There woned [93d] a knight, hight Cassamen, As bold as Isenbras: Fell was he and eager bent In battle and in tournament As was good Sir Topás. Far He had, as antique stories tell, A daughter clepéd Dowsabell, A maiden fair and free. And for she was her fathers heir, Full well she was yconned [93a] the leir [93b] Of mickle courtesie. The silk well couth she twist and twine, And make the finé marché pine, [93c] And with the needle work; And she couth help the priest to say His matins on a holiday, And sing a psalm in kirk. She ware a frock of frolic green Might well become a maiden queen, Which seemly was to see; A hood to that so neat and fine, In colour like the columbine, Inwrought full featously. Her features all as fresh above As is the grass that grows by Dove, And lithe as lass of Kent. Her skin as soft as Lemster [94a] wool, And white as snow on Peakish hull, [94b] Or swan that swims in Trent. This maiden, in a morn betime, Went forth, when May was in the prime, To get sweet setiwall, [94c] The honeysuckle, the harlock, [94d] The lily and the lady-smock, [94k] To deck her summer-hall. [94e] Thus, as she wandered here and there, And pickéd of the bloomy brere, She chancéd to espy A shepherd sitting on a bank, Like chanticleer he crowéd crank, [94f] And piped full merrily. He learned his sheep [94g] as he him list, When he would whistle in his fist, To feed about him round, Whilst he full many a carol sang, Until the fields and meadows rang, And that the woods did sound.
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