Thy bread be frowns, thy drink be gall,
Such as when you Phaon call;

Thy sleep fond dreams, thy dreams long care.
Hope, like thy fool at thy bed's head,
Mock thee till madness strike thee dead,
As Phaon thou dost me with thy proud eyes,
In thee poor Sappho lives, for thee she dies.

The Pages and the Constables.

Watch. STAND! who goes there?
We charge you appear

'Fore our constable here,

In the name of the man in the moon.

To us billmen* relate,

Why you stagger so late,

And how you came drunk so soon.

Pages. What are ye, scabs?

Watch. The watch:

This the constable.

Pages. A patch.

Const. Knock 'em down unless they all stand;

If any run away,

'Tis the old watchman's play,

To reach them a bill of his hand.

Pages. O gentlemen, hold,

Your gowns freeze with cold,

And your rotten teeth dance in
Wine nothing shall cost ye;
Nor huge fires to roast ye;

Then soberly let us be led.

your

head.

Const. Come, my brown bills, we'll roar,
Bounce loud at tavern door.

Omnes. And in the morning steal all to bed.

* The watchmen were so called from the pole they carried with a blade at the top of it, resembling a bill or halbert. Davenant (1636) uses the term in his play of the Wits.

SONG OF THE FAIRIES.

Omnes. PINCH him, pinch him, black and blue,

I Fairy.

2 Fairy.

3 Fairy.

Saucy mortals must not view

What the queen of stars is doing,
Nor pry into our fairy wooing.
Pinch him blue-

And pinch him black—

Let him not lack

Sharp nails to pinch him blue and red,
Till sleep has rocked his addlehead.
4 Fairy. For the trespass he hath done,
Spots o'er all his flesh shall run.
Kiss Endymion, kiss his eyes,
Then to our midnight heidegyes.*

YES, O yes, if any maid

Whom leering Cupid has betrayed
To powers of spite, to eyes of scorn,
And would in madness now see torn
The boy in pieces, let her come
Hither, and lay on him her doom.

O yes,

O yes, has any lost

A heart which many a sigh hath cost?

If

any cozened of a tear

Which as a pearl disdain does wear?

Here stands the thief; let her but come

Hither, and lay on him her doom.

Is any one undone by fire,

And turned to ashes by desire?
Did ever any lady weep,

Being cheated of her golden sleep

*Sports, dances, pastimes.

Stolen by sick thoughts?-the pirate's found,
And in her tears he shall be drowned.
Read his indictment, let him hear
What he's to trust to. Boy, give ear!

MY

APOLLO'S SONG OF DAPHNE.

Y Daphne's hair is twisted gold, Bright stars a-piece her eyes do hold, My Daphne's brow enthrones the graces, My Daphne's beauty stains all faces, On Daphne's cheek grow rose and cherry, But Daphne's lip a sweeter berry; Daphne's snowy hand but touched does melt, And then no heavenlier warmth is felt; My Daphne's voice tunes all the spheres, My Daphne's music charms all ears; Fond am I thus to sing her praise, These glories now are turned to bays.

PAN'S SONG OF SYRINX.

PAN'S Syrinx was a girl indeed,

Though now she's turned into a reed;
From that dear reed Pan's pipe does come,
A pipe that strikes Apollo dumb;
Nor flute, nor lute, nor gittern can
So chant it as the pipe of Pan:
Cross-gartered swains and dairy girls,
With faces smug and round as pearls,
When Pan's shrill pipe begins to play,
- With dancing wear out night and day;
The bagpipe's drone his hum lays by,
When Pan sounds up his minstrelsy;
His minstrelsy, O base! This quill,
Which at my mouth with wind I fill,
Puts me in mind, though her I miss,
That still my Syrinx' lips I kiss.

SONG TO APOLLO.

CING to Apollo, god of day,

Whose golden beams with morning play,

And make her eyes so brightly shine,

Aurora's face is called divine.

Sing to Phoebus and that throne
Of diamonds which he sets upon.
Io Pæans let us sing

To Physic and to Poesy's king.

Crown all his altars with bright fire,
Laurels bind about his lyre,

A Daphnean coronet for his head,
The Muses dance about his bed;
When on his ravishing lute he plays,
Strew his temple round with bays.
Io Peans let us sing

To the glittering Delian king.

MOTHER BOMBIE. 1598.

BACCHANALIAN SONG.

O Bacchus! To thy table

Thou callest every drunken rabble;
We already are stiff drinkers,

Then seal us for thy jolly skinkers.*
Wine, O wine!

O juice divine!

How dost thou the nowle† refine.
Plump thou makest men's ruby faces,
And from girls can fetch embraces.
By thee our noses swell
With sparkling carbuncle.

* Tapster, drawer. From skink, to draw liquor, to drink. †The noddle, or head-used here to imply the brain.

O the dear blood of grapes
Turns us to antic shapes,
Now to show tricks like apes,
Now lion-like to roar,
Now goatishly to whore,
Now hoggishly in the mire,
Now flinging hats in the fire.
Io Bacchus! at thy table,
Make us of thy reeling rabble.

CUPID.

CUPID! monarch over kings,

Wherefore hast thou feet and wings?

Is it to show how swift thou art,

When thou woundest a tender heart?
Thy wings being clipped, and feet held still,
Thy bow so many could not kill.

It is all one in Venus' wanton school,
Who highest sits, the wise man or the fool.
Fools in love's college

Have far more knowledge

To read a woman over,
Than a neat prating lover:

Nay, 'tis confessed,

That fools please women best.

GEORGE PEELE.

155- 159-.

His name

[GEORGE PEELE was a native of Devonshire. appears in the Matriculation Book of Oxford as a member of Broadgates Hall (now Pembroke College) in 1564, and Mr. Dyce, assuming him to have been at least twelve or thirteen when he was entered, places his birth about 1552 or 1553. While he was at the University, Wood tells us that he was