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By this, the boy that by her side lay killed
Was melted like a vapor from her sight,
And in his blood that on the ground lay spilled,
A purple flower sprung up, chequered with white,
Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood
Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.

She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath,

And says, within her bosom it shall dwell,
Since he himself is reft from her by death:

She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.

"Poor flower," quoth she, "this was thy father's guise— Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire—

For every little grief to wet his eyes:

To grow unto himself was his desire,

And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good
To wither in my breast as in his blood.

"Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast;
Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right:
Lo, in this hollow cradle take thy rest,

My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night;
There shall not be one minute in an hour

Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower."
[From VENUS AND ADONIS.]

LYRICS FROM THE PLAYS

SILVIA

WHO is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness.
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness,
And, being helped, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.

[From Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.]

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE

UNDER the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me

And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat

Come hither! come hither! come hither!

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun,

Seeking the food he eats

And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither! come hither! come hither!
Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

[From As You LIKE IT.]

BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND

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.

Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky!
That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot;

Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.

Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! etc.

[From As You LIKE IT.]

O MISTRESS MINE

O 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.

[From TWELFTH NIGHT.]

LAMENT

COME away, come away, Death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true

Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet

On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover never find my grave

To weep there.

[From TWELFTH NIGHT.]

TAKE, O, TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY

TAKE, O, take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,

Bring again;

Seals of love, but sealed in vain,

Sealed in vain!

[From MEASURE for MEASURE.]

HARK! HARK! THE LARK!

HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:

Arise, arise!

[From CYMBELINE.]

DIRGE

FEAR no more the heat o' th' sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

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