Plays and Poems

SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC.

III,

It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of My flocks feed not, three,

My ewes breed not, That liked of her master as well as well might My rams speed not, be,

All is amiss : Till looking on an Englishman, the fair'st that Love's denying, eye could see,

Faith's defying Her fancy fell a-turning.

Heart's renying,

Causer of this. Long was the combat doubtful that love with | All my merry jigs are quite forgot, love did fight,

All my lady's love is lost, God wot: To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love, knight :

There a nay is plac'd without remove.
To put in practice either, alas I it was a spite One silly cross
Unto the silly damsel.

Wrought all my loss ;
But one must be refused; more mickle was the For now I see

0! frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame; pain

Inconstancy That nothing could be used to turn them both

More in women than in men remain, to gain, For of the two the trusty knight was wounded in black mourn I, with disdain :

All fears scorn I, Alas! she could not help it.

Love bath forlorn me, Thus art with arms contending was victor of

Living in thrall : the day,

Heart is bleeding, Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid All help needing,

0! cruel speeding, ; Then lullaby', the learned man hath got the lady My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,

Fraughted with gall.
gay ;
For now my song is ended.

My wether's bell rings doleful kuell ;
My curtal dog, that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid ;
My sighs so deep

Procure to weep,
On a day, alack the day!

In howling wise, to see my doleful plight. Love, whose month was ever May,

How sighs resound Spied a blossom passing fair,

Through heartless ground, Playing in the wanton air :

Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody Through the velvet leaves the wind,

fight! All unseen, 'gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death,

Clear wells spring not, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.

Sweet birds sing not, ‘Air,' quoth he, “thy cheeks may blow; Green plants bring not Air, would I might triumph so !

Forth their dye; But, alas ! my hand hath sworn

Herds stand weeping, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn :

Flocks all sleeping, Vow, alack! for youth unmeet :

Nymphs back peeping Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.

Fearfully : Thou for whom Jove would swear

All our pleasure known to us poor swains, Juno but an Ethiop were ;

All our merry meetings on the plains, And deny himself for Jove,

All our evening sport from us is fled, Turning mortal for thy love.'

All our love is lost, for Love is dead.

II.

Live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And all the craggy mountains yields.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee a bed of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs ;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Then live with me and be my love.

LOVE'S ANSWER. If that the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.

VI.

Whenas thine eye hath chose the dame,
And stalld the deer that thou should'st strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
As well as fancy partial wight :

Take counsel of some wiser head,

Neither too young nor yet unwed.
And when thou com’st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell ;
A cripple soon can find a halt:

But plainly say thon lov'st her well,

And set thy person forth to sell.
What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will clear ere night;
And then too late she will repent
That thus dissembled her delight;

And twice desire, ere it be day,

That which with scorn she put away.
What though she strive to try her strength,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say,

* Had women been so strong as men,

In faith, you had not had it then,' And to her will frame all thy ways; Spare not to spend, and cliefly there Where thy desert may merit praise, By ringing in thy lady's ear:

The strongest castle, tower, and town,

The golden bullet beats it down.
Serve always with assured trust,
And in thy suit be humble true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,
Seek never thou to choose anew,

When time shall serve, be thou not slack

To proffer, though she put thee back.
The wiles and guiles that women work,
Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them shall not know.

Have you not heard it said full oft,

A woman's nay doth stand for nought?
Think, women love to match with men
And not to live so like a saint:
Here is no heaven; they holy then
Begin when age doth them attaint.

Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.

As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and plants did spring ;
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone :
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity :
• Fie, fie, fie!' now would she cry;
* Tereu, Tereu !' by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain ;
For her griefs, so lively shown,
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah! thought I, thou mourn'st in vain,
None takes pity on thy pain :
Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,
Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:
King Pandion he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead,
All thy fellow birds do sing
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle Fortune smil'd,
Thou and I were both beguil'd.

Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy, like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find :
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call

But, soft! enough! too much, I fear ;
For if my mistress hear my song,
She will not stick to ring my ear,
To teach my tongue to be so long :

Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her secrets so bewray'd.

And with such-like flattering,

Use his company no more. " Pity but he were a king.'

He that is thy friend indeed, If he be addict to vice,

He will help thee in thy need : Quickly him they will entice;

If thou sorrow, he will weep; If to women he be bent,

If thou wake, he cannot sleep: They have him at commandemect :

Thus of every grief in heart But if Fortune once do frown,

He with thee does bear a part. Then farewell his great renown;

These are certain signs to know They that fawn'd on him before

Faithful friend from flattering foe.

THE PHENIX AND THE TURTLE.

LET the bird of loudest lay
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.

Property was thus appalld,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was call'a.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together ;
To themselves yet either neither,
Simple were so well compounded,

That it cried, 'How true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one !
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.'

But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather'd king :
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white
That defunctive music can,
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right,
And thou treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the anthem doth commence :
Love and constancy is dead ;
Phoenix and the turtle fied
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they lov’d, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.

Whereupon it made this threne
To the phenix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene."

THRENOS.

Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos'd in cinders lie.

Death is now the phenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,

Leaving no posterity:
'Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder ;
Distance, and no space was seen
"Twixt the turtle and his queen :
But in them it were a wonder,

Truth may seem, but cannot be ;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix' sight;
Either was the other's mine.

this urn let those repair That are either true or fair; For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

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