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With lullaby now take thine ease,
With lullaby thy doubts appease;
For trust to this, if thou be still,
My body shall obey thy will.

Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes,
My will, my ware, and all that was:
I can no more delays devise;

But welcome pain, let pleasure pass.
With lullaby now take your leave;
With lullaby your dreams deceive;
And when you rise with waking eye,
Remember then this lullaby.

George Gascoigne [1525?-1577]

PHILLIDA AND CORIDON

IN the merry month of May,

In a morn by break of day,

Forth I walked by the wood-side
When as May was in his pride:
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Coridon.

Much ado there was, God wot!
He would love and she would not.
She said, Never man was true;
He said, None was false to you.

He said, He had loved her long;
She said, Love should have no wrong.
Coridon would kiss her then;

She said, Maids must kiss no men
Till they did for good and all;
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use

When they will not Love abuse,

"It Was a Lover and His Lass" 691

Love, which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded;
And Phillida, with garlands gay,

Was made the Lady of the May.

Nicholas Breton [1545?-1626?]

"CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH"

From "The Passionate Pilgrim "

CRABBED Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;

Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.

Youth is full of sport,

Age's breath is short;

Youth is nimble, Age is lame;

Youth is hot and bold,

Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, and Age is tame.

Age, I do abhor thee;

Youth, I do adore thee;

O, my Love, my Love is young!

Age, I do defy thee:

O, sweet shepherd, hie thee!

For methinks thou stay'st too long.

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

"IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS"

From "As You Like It

It 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,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie,

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that life was but a flower

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

And, therefore, take the present time

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

For love is crowned 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.

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

"I LOVED A LASS"

I LOVED a lass, a fair one,
As fair as e'er was seen;
She was indeed a rare one,
Another Sheba Queen:

But, fool as then I was,

I thought she loved me too:
But now, alas! she's left me,
Falero, lero, loo!

Her hair like gold did glister,
Each eye was like a star,
She did surpass her sister,

Which passed all others far;

[blocks in formation]

TO CHLORIS.

Ан, Chloris! that I now could sit
As unconcerned as when
Your infant beauty could beget
No pleasure, nor no pain!
When I the dawn used to admire,
And praised the coming day,
I little thought the growing fire
Must take my rest away.

Your charms in harmless childhood lay
Like metals in the mine;
Age from no face took more away

Than youth concealed in thine.

But as your charms insensibly
To their perfection pressed,
Fond love as unperceived did fly,
And in my bosom rest.

My passion with your beauty grew,
And Cupid at my heart,
Still as his mother favored you,

Threw a new flaming dart:

Each gloried in their wanton part;

To make a lover, he

Employed the utmost of his art

To make a beauty, she.

Charles Sedley [1639?-1701]

SONG

THE merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrowed name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure;
But Chloe is my real flame.

My softest verse, my darling lyre,

Upon Euphelia's toilet lay;

When Chloe noted her desire

That I should sing, that I should play.

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