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“Her eyes were once his dart.”
GEORGE PEELE (1658?-1697?)
ENONE. Fair and fair, and twice so fair, Alas, I lie: rage hath this error bred;
As fair as any may be;
The fairest shepherd on our
green, In her unmatchèd mind,
A love for any lady.
As fair as any may be;
Thy love is fair for thee alone,
And for no other lady. Who Love can temper thus,
En. My love is fair, my love is gay, Good Lord, deliver us!
As fresh as binthe flowers in
And of my love my roundelay,
My merry, merry roundelay,
Concludes with Cupid's curse, -
“They that do change old love for
new, Cupid and my Campaspe played
Pray gods they change for worse!” 15 At cards for kisses; Cupid paid.
AMBO SIMUL.3 They that do change, etc. He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
En. Fair and fair, etc. His mother's doves and team of sparrows; PAR. Fair and fair, etc. Loses them too; then down he throws 5
Thy love is fair, etc. The coral of his lip, the rose
En. My love can pipe, my love can Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);
sing, With these the crystal of his brow,
My love can* many a pretty thing, And then the dimple, of his chin;
And of his lovely praises ring All these did my Campaspe win.
My merry, merry roundelays, At last he set' her both his eyes;
Amen to Cupid's curse, She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
“They that do change,” etc. 25 O Love, has she done this to thee?
PAR. They that do change, etc. What shall, alas! become of me?
AMBO. Fair and fair, etc.
ROBERT GREENE (1560?–1692)
SWEET ARE THE THOUGHTS
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
Sweet are the thoughts that savor of con
tent; The quiet mind is richer than a crown; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber
spent; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry
frown: Such sweet content, such minds, such
sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
3 Both together.
knows how to do.
The homely house that harbors quiet rest;
Love in my bosom like a bee The sweet consort of mirth and music's
Doth suck his sweet; fare;
Now with his wings he plays with me, Obscurè life sets down a type of bliss:
Now with his feet.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest, 5
And yet he robs me of my rest.
Ah, wanton, will ye?
And makes his pillow of my knee,
The livelong night.
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting.
Else I with roses every day
20 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
And bind you, when you long to play, When thou art old there's grief enough for
For your offence.
I'll shut my eyes to keep you in,
I'll make you fast it for your sin,
I'll count your power not worth a pin. 25
Alas! what hereby shall I win
If he gainsay me?
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosom be; When thou art old there's grief enough for Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee. thee.
O Cupid, so thou pity me,
Spare not, but play thee!
(1564-1693) Child and mother, baby bless,
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO For he left his pretty boy,
HIS LOVE Father's sorrow, father's joy. 30 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my Come live with me and be my love, knee,
And we will all the pleasures prove, When thou art old there's grief enough for That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, thee.
Woods, or steepy mountains, yields.
Beauty is but a flower,
Lord, have mercy on us!
Then by that happy blissful day
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see, 20 20 | That have cast off their rags of clay,
And walk apparelled fresh like me. 1 2 badge of a pilgrim.
I'll take them first,
When we have wandered all our ways, 5 To quench their thirst
Shuts up the story of our days: And taste of nectar suckets!
But from this earth, this grave, this dust, At those clear wells
My God shall raise me up, I trust.
ROBERT SOUTHWELL (16617-1696)
THE BURNING BABE Then the blessèd paths we'll travel, Strowed with rubies thick as gravel; As I in hoary winter's night stood shiverCeilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
ing in the snow, High walls of coral, and pearly bowers. Surprised I was with sudden heat which
made my heart to glow; From thence to Heaven's bribeless hall, And lifting up a fearful eye to view what Where no corrupted voices brawl; 36 | fire was near, No conscience molten into gold;
A pretty babe, all burning bright, did in No forged accuser bought or sold;
the air appear, No cause deferred, no vain-spent jour Who, scorched with excessive heat, such ney,
floods of tears did shed, For there Christ is the King's Attorney, 40 As though his floods should quench his Who pleads for all, without degrees,
flames which with his tears were fed; And he hath angels but no fees.
“Alas!" quoth he, “but newly born in And when the grand twelve million jury fiery heats I fry, Of our sins, with direful fury,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or Against our souls black verdicts give, 45 feel my fire but I! Christ pleads his death; and then we live. My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel,
wounding thorns; Be Thou my speaker, taintless Pleader! | Love is the fire and sighs the smoke, the Unblotted Lawyer! true Proceeder!
ashes, shame and scorns; Thou giv'st salvation, even for alms, The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy Not with a bribèd lawyer's palms. 50 blows the coals;
The metal in this furnace wrought are And this is mine eternal plea
men's defiled souls; To Him that made heaven and earth and For which, as now on fire I am to work sea:
them to their good, That, since my flesh must die so soon, So will I melt into a bath to wash them in And want a head to dine next noon,
my blood.” Just at the stroke, when my veins start With this he vanished out of sight, and and spread, 55 I swiftly shrunk away,
15 Set on my soul an everlasting head! And straight I called unto mind that it
was Christmas-day. Then am I ready, like a palmer fit, To tread those blest paths, which before I writ.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616)
SONGS FROM THE PLAYS THE CONCLUSION
From Love's LABOR's Lost Even such is time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have, When icicles hang by the wall, And pays us but with earth and dust; And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, Who in the dark and silent grave, And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
From A MIDSUMMER Night's DREAM Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere,
5 Swister than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy Queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see: Those be rubies, fairy favors, In those freckles live their savors. I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. I cool by stirring.
Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green
holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky!