IV YOUTH AND LOVE Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear; your true-love's coming That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is Love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and-twenty : Youth's a stuff will not endure. V IT IT VER ET VENUS was a Lover and his Lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye These pretty country folks would lie. This carol they began that hour, How that a life was but a flower : And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; For love is crownéd with the prime In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring. A. A. VI TWO MAIDS WOOING A MAN Autolycus-Dorcas-Mopsa GET you hence, for I must go Where it fits not you to know! D. Whither? M. O whither? D. Whither? M. It becomes thy oath full well Thou to me thy secrets tell. D. Me, too, let me go thither. M. Or thou goest to the grange or mill. D. If to either, thou dost ill. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither. D. Thou hast sworn my Love to be. M. Thou hast sworn it more to me: -Then whither goest? say, whither? VII RED AND WHITE IF She be made of white and red, Her faults will ne'er be known; For blushing cheeks by faults are bred For still her cheeks possess the same VIII LOVE'S DESPAIR TAKE, O, take those lips away That so sweetly were forsworn ; And those eyes, the break of day, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain ; -Seal'd in vain. IX THE LOVER'S OFFERING HANG there, my verse, in witness of my love: And thou, thrice-crownéd Queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. |