MY Phillis hath the morning sun   At first to look upon her; And Phillis hath morn-waking birds   Her risings still to honour. My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,   That smile when she treads on them; And Phillis hath a gallant flock,   That leaps since she doth own them. But Phillis hath too hard a heart,   Alas that she should have it! It yields no mercy to desert,   Nor grace to those that crave it.