Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,

MICHAEL DRAYTON (1563–1631)

SINCE THERE'S NO HELP

Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part!

me;

And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair1 from fair sometime de

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:

green,

chemy,

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Anon permit the basest clouds to ride 5
With ugly rack2 on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
Even so my sun one early morn did shine
With all-triumphant splendor on my
brow;

ΙΟ

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day 5
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take
away,

rest.

Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,

And let that pine to aggravate thy store;10 Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more:

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,

And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.

ELIZABETHAN SONG WRITERS

ANONYMOUS

BACK AND SIDE GO BARE, GO BARE

Back and side go bare, go bare,

Both hand and foot go cold;

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

Whether it be new or old.

I cannot eat but little meat,

My stomach is not good;

But sure I think that I can drink With him that wears a hood. Though I go bare, take ye no care,

I am nothing a-cold;

I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, etc.

I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab1 laid in the fire;

A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.

No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if it would,

I am so wrapt and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side, etc.

And Tib my wife, that as her life

Loveth well good ale to seek, Full oft drinks she, till ye may see

My mind to me a kingdom is,

Such present joys therein I find That it excels all other bliss

That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want which most would have,

Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No force to win the victory,

No wily wit to salve a sore,

No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall:
For why? My mind doth serve for all.

I see how plenty [surfeits] oft,

And hasty climbers soon do fall;

I see that those which are aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all; They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear. Content to live, this is my stay;

I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway;

Look, what I lack my mind supplies: Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring.

I grudge not at another's pain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss;
My state at one doth still remain:
I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.

Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Their wisdom by their rage of will;
Their treasure is their only trust;

A cloaked craft their store of skill:
But all the pleasure that I find
Is to maintain a quiet mind.

My wealth is health and perfect ease;
My conscience clear my chief defence;
I neither seek by bribes to please,

Nor by deceit to breed offence: Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I!

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554–1586)

LOVE IS DEAD

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40

45

be spread;

For Love is dead:

All Love is dead, infected

Worth, as nought worth, rejected,

With plague of deep disdain:

IO

And Faith fair scorn doth gain.

From such a female franzie,2

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20

Some have too much, yet still do crave;25

I little have, and seek no more.

From so ungrateful fancy,

From them that use men thus,

Good Lord, deliver us!

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ΙΟ