Bartholomew:
O kind fellow, I hath a confession.
To fair Agnes, I lost mine callow heart.
Wynchell:
Blest art thou, O gentle shepheard. 
The beauteous maid hath virtue.
Bartholomew:
But ere I can proclaim my love for her,
I behold her eyes, and I am struck dumb.
Wynchell:
A laddie's heart doth quiver like a leaf,
So quoth mine old father. May he be blest!
Bartholomew:
Oft I doubt, will Agnes accept my love?
For I am but a humble, plain shepheard. 
Wynchell:
Love doth not pick silver ov'r a chaste heart.
Banish thine fear, for love shall overcome.
Bartholomew:
May our bond stay blest in eternity!
Wynchell:
Amen! Now hasten to seek thine maid's hand.

Poet's Notes:

Since this poem is written in dialogue form, the names of the two shepherds have been excluded from the syllable & line count.