A Dialogue between Phillida and Coridon

Phillida:

Ah, Coridon, contentedly we tend

Our bleating flocks, but think not of our end

Coridon:

Faire Phillida, our life that's innocent,

Cannot be guilty of an ill event:

Phillida:

'Tis true, but yet me thinks diseas'd old age,

Should make us weary of our pilgrimage:

Coridon:

Our age points to our end; in this we're blest,

That after all our pains, w'are neer our rest.

Chorus:

In this w'are blest, that after all our pains,

W'are neere our rest.

Phillida:

But wher's our rest? must we not fight with death,

And gainst him lose our life for neere our rest. want of breath;

Coridon:

Death hasts us to our graves, if well we die,

We shall have heav'n in change for misery.

Chorus:

Then welcome death, obey our destiny,

And change our frailty for eternity.