The Shepherd's Sonnet

My fairest Ganymede, disdain me not.
Though silly shepherd I presume to love thee;
Though my harsh songs and sonnets cannot move thee,
Yet to thy beauty is my love no blot:

' Apollo, Jove, and many gods beside,
'Sdain'd not the name of country shepherd swains,
Nor want we pleasures, though we take some pains.
We live contentedly; a thing call'd pride,
Which so corrupts the court and every place
(Each place J mean where learning is neglected.
And yet of late even learning's self s infected),
I know not what it means in any case.
We only (when Molorchus 'gins to peep)
Learn for to fold, and to unfold our sheep.