That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace: Heigh ho, fair Rosalind! Her lips are like two budded roses, Heigh ho, would she were mine! Her neck like to a stately tower Her paps are centres of delight, Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame, Where Nature moulds the dew of light, To feed perfection with the same: Heigh ho, would she were mine! With orient pearl, with ruby red, With marble white, with sapphire blue, Nature herself her shape admires, Then muse not, nymphs, though I bemoan Since for her fair there's fairer none, 15 20 25 30 35 40 'T was I, I say, against my will; Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance 25 If death do strike me with his lance, A lamb in town thou shalt him find: Thy father is no rascal lad, A noble youth of blood and bone: 1594 35 40 45 Nicholas Breton (1545?-1626?) A SWEET LULLABY COME, little babe, come, silly soul, Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief, Born, as I doubt, to all our dole, PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON IN the merry month of May, She said, never man was true; 10 1595 He said, none was false to you. 1600 Robert Southwell (1561?-1595) THE BURNING BABE A gown made of the finest wool A belt of straw and ivy-buds, The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing. Thomas Nashe (1567-1601) DEATH'S SUMMONS 1599 15 20 10 Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes, shame and scorns. The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals, The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defilèd souls, For which, as now on fire I am, to work them to their good, So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood.' I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Rich men, trust not in wealth, 10 The plague full swift goes by: Lord, have mercy on us! Beauty is but a flower, Queens have died young and fair; Lord, have mercy on us! Strength stoops unto the grave, Lord, have mercy on us! Wit with his wantonness, Hath no ears for to hear Lord, have mercy on us! William Shakespeare (1564-1616)/ ON A DAY, ALACK THE DAY! ON a day, alack the day! 25 30 35 35 40 Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, gan passage find; 5 That the lover, sick to death, Wished himself the heaven's breath. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, Tu-whit, tu-who- a merry note, 30 35 1598 WHO IS SILVIA WHO is Silvia? what is she? That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 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; 5 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, etc. This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower In the spring time, etc. And therefore take the present time, 1623 O MISTRESS MINE O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 't is not hereafter; 1623 10 15 5 10 L FEAR NO MORE THE HEAT O'TH' SUN FEAR no more the heat o' th' sun, Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages; Fear no more the frown o' th' great, Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The scepter, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finished joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust. No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Ghost unlaid forbear thee! Nothing ill come near thee! FULL FATHOM FIVE THY FATHER LIES Nothing of him that doth fade, ✓ Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell; Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them, - Ding-dong, bell. WHERE THE BEE SUCKS WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I There I couch when owls do cry. 5 In a cowslip's bell I lie; On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily: 10 Merrily, merrily shall I live now bough. 15 20 1623 5 5 Under the blossom that hangs on the 1623 Youth is full of sport, |