There stands the constable, there stands the We call him Fame, for that the wide-mouth whore, And harkening to the song, mark not each other; There by the serjeant stands the debtor poor, And doth no more mistrust him than his brother: This Orpheus to such hearers giveth music, And Philo to such patients giveth physic. IN FUSCUM. XXXIX. Fuscus is free, and hath the world at will, one; Then sees he a play till six, and sups at seven, And after supper straight to bed is gone. And there till ten next day he doth remain, And then he dines, then sees a comedy; And then he sups, and goes to bed again, Thus round he runs without variety: Save that sometimes he comes not to the play, But falls into a whore-house by the way. IN AFRUM. XL. The smell-feast Afer, travels to the Burse Twice every day the flying news to hear, Which, when he hath no money in his purse, To rich men's tables he doth ever bear: But that they do victorious Norris fear. But straight he learns the news and doth disclose it; No sooner hath the Turk a plot devised To conquer Christendom, but straight he knows it.* Fair written in a sell he hath the names, Of all the widows which the plague hath made; And persons, times and places, still he frames To every tale, the better to persuade : *The above two lines were recovered by Mr. Dyce from a MS. in the British Museum. slave, But he doth seriously bethink hiin whether To Paris Garden, Cock-pit, or the play: To be of counsel with a king for wit. AD MUSAM. XLVIII. Peace, idle Muse, have done! for it is time, To make me so well known for my ill rhyme : Grew both together fresh in estimation, What fame is this that scarce lasts out a fashion? Only this last in credit doth remain, I love thee not for thy enchanting eye, I love thee not for that my soul doth dance, Give musical and graceful utterance, 'Faith wench! I cannot court thy sprightly With the base viol placed between my thighs: I cannot cross my arms, or sigh "Ah me," Not I, by cock! but I shall tell thee Hark in thine ear, zounds I can ( Sweet wench, I love thee; yet I will not sue, Or show my love as musky courtiers do; In glory that I am thy servile ass. Yet for thy sake I will not bore mine ear, But by the chaps of hell, to do thee good, The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. [This beautiful song was first printed in 1599 in The Passionate Pilgrim as Shakspeare's, but in the following year is found in England's Helicon with the name Chr. Marlow appended to it, and followed by The Nimph's Reply to the Sheepheard, and Another of the same nature, made since. The former of these has always been assigned to Sir Walter Raleigh; but in England's Helicon both have the word Ignoto attached to them, which is equivalent to the "Anon." of the present day. Marlowe's famous song should never be printed without them. I have here given, in the first instance, the version made popular by Isaak Walton, and afterwards the three sister poems copied verbatim et literatim from Mr. Collier's beautiful reprint of the old Anthology.] COME live with me, and be my love; And we will sit upon the rocks, And I will make thee beds of roses, A gown made of the finest wool, A belt of straw and ivy-buds And, if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. [Thy silver dishes for thy meat, The shepherd swains shall dance and sing The Passionate Sheepheard to his Loue. COME liue with mee, and be my loue And we will all the pleasures proue, That Vallies, groues, hills and fieldes, Woods, or steepie mountaine yeeldes. And wee will sit vpon the Rocks, By shallow Riuers, to whose falls, And I will make thee beds of Roses A gowne made of the finest wooll A belt of straw, and Iuie buds, The Sheepheards Swaines shall daunce and sing, For thy delight each May-morning, FINIS. The Nimphs Reply to the Sheepheard. IF all the world and loue were young, And truth in euery Sheepheards tongue, These pretty pleasures might me moue, To liue with thee, and be thy loue. Time driues the flocks from field to fold, When Riuers rage and Rocks grow cold, And Philomell becommeth dombe, The rest complaines of cares to come. The flowers doe fade and wanton fieldes, Is fancies spring, but sorrowes fall. Thy gounes, thy shooes, thy beds of Roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy poesies, Soone breake, soone wither, soone forgotten: In follie ripe, in reason rotten. There shall you haue the beauteous Pine, The seate for your disport shall be There shall you see the Nimphs at play, The birds with heauenly tuned throates, Possesse woods Ecchoes with sweet noates, Which to your sences will impart, A musique to enflame the hart. Vpon the bare and leafe-lesse Oake, In bowers of Laurell trimly dight, Ten thousand Glow-wormes shall attend, Then in mine armes will I enclose Thus as we passe the welcome night, If these may serue for to entice, IGNOTO. FINIS. |