Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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ID |
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A12032
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The passionate pilgrime. By W. Shakespeare
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Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616.
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1599
(1599)
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STC 22342; ESTC S106363
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6,360
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62
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the youngling how god Mars did trie her And as he fell to her she fell to him Euen thus quoth she the warlike god embrac't me And then she clipt Adonis in her armes Euen thus quoth she the warlike god vnlac't me As if the boy should vse like louing charmes Euen thus quoth she he seized on my lippes And with her lips on his did act the seizure And as she fetched breath away he skips And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure Ah that I had my Lady at this bay To kisse and clip me till I run away Crabbed age and youth cannot liue together Youth is full of pleasance Age is full of care Youth like summer morne Age like winter weather Youth like summer braue Age like winter bare Youth is full of sport Ages breath is short Youth is nimble Age is lame Youth is hot and bold Age is weake and cold Youth is wild and Age is tame Age I doe abhor thee Youth I doe adore thee O my loue my loue is young Age I doe defie thee Oh sweet Shepheard hie thee For me thinks thou staies too long BEauty is but a vaine and doubtfull good A shining glosse that vadeth sodainly A flower that dies when first it gins to bud A brittle glasse that 's broken presently A doubtfull good a glosse a glasse a flower Lost vaded broken dead within an houre And as goods lost are seld or neuer found As vaded glosse no rubbing will refresh As flowers dead he withered on the ground As broken glasse no symant can redresse So beauty blemisht once for euer lost In spite of phisicke painting paine and cost Good night good rest ah neither be my share She bad good night that kept my rest away And daft me to a cabben hangde with care To descant on the doubts of my decay Farewell quoth she and come againe to morrow Fare well I could not for I supt with sorrow Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile In scorne or friendship nill I conster whether 'T may be she ioyd to ieast at my exile 'T may be againe to make me wander thither Wander a word for shadowes like my selfe As take the paine but cannot plucke the pelfe Lord how mine eies throw gazes to the East My hart doth charge the watch the morning rise Doth scite each mouing scence from idle rest Not daring trust the office of mine eies While Philomela sits and sings I sit and mark And with her layes were tuned like the larke For she doth welcome daylight with her ditte And driues away darke dreaming night The night so packt I post vnto my pretty Hart hath his hope and eies their wished sight Sorrow changd to solace and solace mixt with sorrow For why she sight and bad me come to morrow Were I with her the night would post too soone But now are minutes added to the houres To spite me now ech minute seemes an houre Yet not for me shine sun to succour flowers Pack night peep day good day of night now borrow Short night to night and length thy selfe to morrow SONNETS To sundry notes of Musicke AT LONDON Printed for W. Iaggard and are to be sold by W. Leake at the Greyhound in Paules Churchyard 1599. IT was a Lordings daughter the fairest one of three That liked of her maister as well as well might be Till looking on an Englishman the fairest that eie coul Her fancie fell a turning Long was the combat doubtfull that loue with loue did To leaue the maister louelesse or kill the gallant knight To put in practise either alas it was a spite Vnto the silly damsell But one must be refused more mickle was the paine That nothing could be vsed to turne them both to gain For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with diâ—â— Alas she could not helpe it Thus art with armes contending was victor of the day Which by a gift of learning did beare the maid away Then lullaby the learned man hath got the Lady gay For now my song is ended ON a day alacke the day Loue whose month was euer May Spied a blossome passing fair Playing in the wanton ayre Through the veluet leaues the wind All vnseene gan passage find That the louer sicke to death Wisht himselfe the heauens breath Ayre quoth he thy cheekes may blowe Ayre would I might triumph so But alas my hand hath sworne Nere to plucke thee from thy throne Vow alacke for youth vnmeet Youth so apt to pluck a sweet Thou for whome Ioue would sweare Iuno but an Ethiope were And deny hymselfe for Ioue Turning mortall for thy Loue. MY flocks feede not my Ewes breed not My Rams speed not all is amis Loue is dying Faithes defying Harts nenying causer of this All my merry Iigges are quite forgot All my Ladies loue is lost god wot Where her faith was firmely fixt in loue There a nay is plac't without remoue One silly crosse wrought all my losse O frowning fortune cursed fickle dame For now I see inconstancy More in wowen then in men remaine In blacke morne I all feares scorne I Loue hath sorlorne me liuing in thrall Hart is bleeding all helpe needing O cruell speeding fraughted with gall My shepheards pipe can sound no deale My weathers bell rings dolefull knell My curtaile dogge that wont to haue plaid Plaies not at all but seemes afraid With sighes so deepe procures to weepe In howling wise to see my dolefull plight How sighes resound through hartles ground Like a thousand vanquisht men in blodie fight Cleare wels spring not sweete birds sing not Greene plants bring not forth their die Heards stands weeping flocks all sleeping Nimphes blacke peeping fearefully All our pleasure knowne to vs poore swaines All our merrie meetings on the plaines All our euening sport from vs is fled All our loue is lost for loue is dead Farewell sweet loue thy like nere was For a sweet content the cause of all my woe Poore Coridon must liue alone Other helpe for him I see that there is none When as thine eye hath chose the Dame And stalde the deare that thou shouldst strike Let reason rule things worthy blame As well as fancy partyall might Take counsell of some wiser head Neither too young nor yet vnwed And when thon comst thy tale to tell Smooth not thy toung with filed talke Least she some subtill practise smell A Cripple soone can finde a halt But plainly say thou loust her well And set her person forth to sale What though her frowning browes be bent Her cloudy lookes will calme yer night And then too late she will repent That thus dissembled her delight And twice desire yet it be day That which with scorne she put away What though she striue to try her strength And ban and braule and say the nay Her feeble force will yeeld at length When craft hath taught her thus to say Had women beene so strong as men In faith you had not had it then