A lover is about to be left behind, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his Amarillis close. She tells him she’ll be off in dewy meadows, quietly filling baskets with wildflowers. He can’t stand the thought — not because he looks down on the countryside, but because he believes she’s far too radiant for it. He wants her at court, glittering among jewels and admirers, a queen among men rather than a girl among lilies. She gently pushes back, calling herself a homely shepherdess, but he won’t hear it: to him, no one at court is half as lovely. The mood is tender and a little playful, full of the sweet ache of an imminent goodbye. Their argument isn’t really a fight — it’s a flirtatious tug-of-war that ends with a kiss and the quiet confidence that this parting, though painful now, won’t last forever.
A DIALOGUE BETWIXT HIMSELF AND MISTRESS ELIZAWHEELER, UNDER THE NAME OF AMARILLIS — Summary
My dearest Love, since thou wilt go, And leave me here behind thee; For love or pity, let me know The place where I may find thee.
AMARIL. In country meadows, pearl'd with dew, And set about with lilies; There, filling maunds with cowslips, you May find your Amarillis.
HER. What have the meads to do with thee, Or with thy youthful hours? Live thou at court, where thou mayst be The queen of men, not flowers.
Let country wenches make 'em fine With posies, since 'tis fitter For thee with richest gems to shine, And like the stars to glitter.
AMARIL. You set too-high a rate upon A shepherdess so homely. HER. Believe it, dearest, there's not one I' th' court that's half so comely.
I prithee stay. AMARIL. I must away; Let's kiss first, then we'll sever; AMBO And though we bid adieu to day, We shall not part for ever.