thing is loue All worldly wealth in worth as farre doth faile As lowest earth doth yeeld to heau'n aboue Diuine is loue and scorneth worldly pelfe And can be bought with nothing but with selfe Such is the price my louing heart would pay Such is the pay thy loue doth claime as due Thy due is loue which I poore I assay In vaine assay to quite with friendship true True is my loue and true shall euer be And truest loue is farre too base for thee Loue but thy selfe and loue thy selfe alone For saue thy selfe none can thy loue require All mine thou hast but all as good as none My small desart must take a lower flight Yet if thou wilt vouchsafe my heart such blisse Accept it for thy prisoner as it is FINIS Ignoto ¶ Colin the enamoured Shepheard singeth this passion of loue O Gentle Loue vngentle for thy deede thou makest my heart a bloodie marke With piercing shot to bleede Shoote soft sweet Loue for feare thou shoote amisse for feare too keene thy arrowes beene And hit the heart where my beloued is Too faire that fortune were nor neuer I shall be so blest among the rest That loue shall ceaze on her by simpathie Then since with Loue my prayers beare no boote this doth remaine to ease my paine I take the wound and die at Venus foote FINIS Geo. Peele ¶ Oenones complaint in blanke verse MElpomene the Muse of tragicke Songs With mournfull tunes in stole of dismall hue Assist a silly Nimph to waile her woe And leaue thy lustie company behind This lucklesse wreathe becomes not me to weare The Poplar tree for triumph of my loue Then as my ioy my pride of loue is left Be thou vncloathed of thy louely greene And in thy leaues my fortunes written be And then some gentle winde let blow abroad That all the world may see how false of loue False Paris hath to his Oenone beene FINIS Geo. Peele ¶ The Shepheards Consort HArke iolly Shepheards harke yond lustie ringing How cheerefully the Bells daunce the whilst the Lads are springing Goe we then why sit we here delaying And all yond merrie wanton Lasses playing How gaily Flora leades it and sweetly treads it The Woods and Groues they ring louely resounding With Ecchoes sweet rebounding FINIS Out of M. Morleys Madrigals ¶ Thirsis praise of his Mistresse ON a hill that grac'd the plaine Thirsis sate a comely Swaine Comelier Swaine nere grac'd a hill Whilst his Flocke that wandred nie Cropt the greene grasse busilie Thus he tun'd his Oaten quill Ver hath made the pleasant field Many seu'rall odours yeeld Odors aromaticall From faire Astra's cherrie lip Sweeter smells for euer skip They in pleasing passen all Leauie Groues now mainely ring With each sweet birds sonnetting Notes that make the Eccho's long But when Astra tunes her voyce All the mirthfull birds reioyce And are list'ning to her Song Fairely spreads the Damaske Rose Whose rare mixture doth disclose Beauties pensils cannot faine Yet if Astra passe the bush Roses haue beene seene to blush She doth all their beauties staine Phoebus shining bright in skie Gilds the floods heates mountaines hie With his beames all-quickning fire Astra's eyes most sparkling ones Strikes a heate in hearts of stones And enflames them with desire Fields are blest with flowrie wreath Ayre is blest when she doth breath Birds make happy eu'ry Groue She each Bird when she doth sing Phoebus heate to earth doth bring She makes Marble fall in loue Those blessings of the earth we Swaines doe call Astra can blesse those blessings earth and all FINIS W. Browne A defiance to disdainefull Loue. NOw haue I learn'd with much adoe at last By true disdaine to kill desire This was the marke at which I shot so fast Vnto this height I did aspire Proud Loue now doe thy worst and spare not For thee and all thy shafts I care not What hast thou left wherewith to moue my minde What life to quicken dead desire I count thy words and oathes as light as winde I feele no heate in all thy fire Goe change thy bow and get a stronger Goe breake thy shafts and buy thee longer In vaine thou bait'st thy hooke with beauties blaze In vaine thy wanton eyes allure These are but toyes for them that loue to gaze I know what harme thy lookes procure Some strange conceit must be deuised Or thou and all thy skill despised FINIS Ignoto An Epithalamium or a Nuptiall Song applied to the Ceremonies of Marriage Sunne rising AVrora's Blush the Ensigne of the Day Hath wak't the God of Light from Tythons bowre Who on our Bride and Bride-groome doth display His golden Beames auspitious to this Howre Strewing of Flowers Now busie Maydens strew sweet Flowres Much like our Bride in Virgin state Now fresh then prest soone dying The death is sweet and must be yours Time goes on Croutches till that date Birds sledg'd must needes be flying Leade on whiles Phoebus Lights and Hymens Fires Enflame each Heart with Zeale to Loues Desires Chorus Io to Hymen Paeans sing To Hymen and my Muses King Going to Church Bride Boyes Forth honour'd Groome behold not farre behind Your willing Bride led by two strengthlesse Boyes For Venus Doues or Thred but single twin'd May draw a Virgin light in Marriage Ioyes Vesta growes pale her Flame expires As yee come vnder Iunos Phane To offer at Ioues Shrine The simpathie of Hearts desires Knitting the Knot that doth containe Two soules in Gordian Twine The Rites are done and now as 't is the guise Loues Fast by Day a Feast must solemnize Chorus Io to Hymen Paeans sing To Hymen and my Muses King The Board being spread furnish't with various Plenties Dinner The Brides faire Obiect in the Middle plac'd While she drinkes Nectar eates Ambrosiall dainties And like a Goddesse is admir'd and grac'd Bacchus and Ceres fill their veines Each Heart begins to ope a vent And now the Healths goe round Their Bloods are warm'd chear'd are their Braines All doe applaud their Loues Consent So Loue with Cheare is crown'd Let sensuall soules ioy in full Bowles sweet Dishes True Hearts and Tongues accordin ioyfull wishes Chorus Io to Hymen c. Now whiles slow Howres doe feede the Times delay After-Noone Musicke Confus'd discourse with Musicke mixt among Fills vp the semy-circle of the Day Now drawes the date our Louers wish'd so long A bounteous Hand the Board hath spred Supper Lyeus stirres their Bloods a-new All louiall full of cheare But Phoebus see is gone to Bed Sunne set Loe Hesperus appeares in view And twinckles in his sphere Now ne plus vltra end as you begin Yee waste good Howres Time lost in Loue is sin Chorus Io to Hymen c. Breake off your Complement Musick be dombe And pull your Cases o're your Fiddles cares Cry not a Hall a Hall but Chamber-roome Dauncing is lame Youth 's old at twentie yeares Going to Bed Matrons yee know what followes next Conduct the shame-fac'd Bride to Bed Though to her little rest Yee well can comment on the Text And in Loues learning deepely read Aduise and teach the best Forward's the Word y' are all so in this Arrant Wiues giue the Word their Husbands giue the Warrant Chorus Io to Hymen c. Modestie in the Bride Now droopes our Bride and in her Virgin state Seemes like Electra 'mongst the Pleyades So shrinkes a Mayde when her Herculean Mate Must plucke the fruit in her Hesperides As she 's a Bride she glorious shines Like Cynthia from the Sunnes bright Sphaere Attracting all mens Eyes But as she 's Virgin waines and pines As to the Man she ' approcheth neere So Mayden glory dies But Virgin Beames no reall brightnesse render If they doe shine in darke they shew their splendor Chorus Io to Hymen c. Then let the darke Foyle of the Geniall Bed Extend her brightnesse to his inward sight And by his sence he will be easly led To know her vertue by the absent light Youth 's take his Poynts your wonted right Bride Poynts Garters And Maydens take your due her Garters Take hence the Lights be gone Loue calls to Armes Duell his Fight Then all remoue out of his Quarters And leaue them both alone That with substantiall heate they may embrace And know Loues Essence with his outward grace Chorus Io to Hymen c. Hence Iealousie Riuall to Loues delight Sowe not thy seede of strife in these two Harts May neuer cold affect or spleenefull spight Confound this Musicke of agreeing parts But Time that steales the virtuall heate Where Nature keepes the vitall fire My Heart speakes in my Tongue Supply with Fewell Lifes chiefe seate Through the strong feruour of Desire Loue liuing and liue long And eu'n as Thunder riseth gainst the Winde So may yee fight with Age and conquer Kinde Chorus Io to Hymen Paeans sing To Hymen and my Muses King FINIS Christopher Brooke
low The restfull Caues now restlesse visions giue In dales I see each way a hard assent Like late mowne Meades late cut from ioy I liue Alas sweet Brookes doe in my teares augment Rocks woods hills caues dales meades brooks answer mee Infected mindes infect each thing they see FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ Of disdainefull Daphne SHall I say that I loue you Daphne disdainfull Sore it costs as I proue you louing is painefull Shall I say what doth grieue me Louers lament it Daphne will not relieue me late I repent it Shall I die shall I perish through her vnkindnesse Loue vntaught loue to cherish sheweth his blindnesse Shall the hills shall the valleyes the fields the Citie With the sound of my out-cries moue her to pittie The deepe falls of faire Riuers and the windes turning Are the true Musicke giuers vnto my mourning Where my Flockes daily feeding pining for sorrow At their Maisters heart bleeding shot with Loues arrow From her eyes to my heart-string was the shaft launced It made all the Woods to ring by which it glaunced When this Nimph had vs'd me so then she did hide her Haplesse I did Daphne know haplesse I spied her Thus Turtle-like I wail'd me for my Loues loosing Daphnes trust thus did faile me woe worth such choosing FINIS M. N. Howell ¶ The passionate Shepheard to his Loue. COme liue with me and be my Loue And we will all the pleasures proue That Vallies Groues hills and fields Woods or steepie mountaines yeelds And we will sit vpon the Rockes Seeing the Shepheards feede their Flockes By shallow Riuers to whose falls Melodious birds sings Madrigalls And I will make thee beds of Roses And a thousand fragrant poesies A cap of flowers and a kirtle Imbroydered all with leaues of Mirtle A gowne made of the finest wooll Which from our pretty Lambs we pull Faire lined slippers for the cold With buckles of the purest gold A belt of straw and Iuie buds With Corall clasps and Amber studs And if these pleasures may thee moue Come liue with me and be my Loue. The Shepheard Swaines shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning If these delights thy minde may moue Then liue with me and be my Loue. FINIS Chr. Marlow ¶ The Nimphs reply to the Shepheard IF all the world and loue were young And truth in euery Shepheards tongue These pretty pleasures might me moue To liue with thee and be thy Loue. Time driues the Flockes from field to fold When Riuers rage and Rockes grow cold And Philomell becommeth dombe The rest complaines of cares to come The flowers doe fade and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yeelds A hony tongue a heart of gall Is fancies spring but sorrowes fall Thy gownes thy shooes thy beds of Roses Thy cap thy kirtle and thy posies Soone breake soone wither soone forgotten In folly ripe in reason rotten Thy belt of straw and Iuie buds Thy Corall claspes and Amber studs All these in me no meanes can moue To come to thee and be thy Loue. But could youth last and loue still breede Had ioyes no date nor age no neede Then these delights my minde might moue To liue with thee and be thy Loue. FINIS Ignoto ¶ Another of the same nature made since COme liue with me and be my deere And we will reuell all the yeere In plaines and groues on hills and dales Where fragrant ayre breedes sweetest gales There shall you haue the beauteous Pine The Cedar and the spreading Vine And all the woods to be a Skreene Least Phoebus kisse my Sommers Queene The seate for your disport shall be Ouer some Riuer in a tree Where siluer sands and pebbles sing Eternall ditties with the spring There shall you see the Nimphs at play And how the Satires spend the day The fishes gliding on the sands Offering their bellies to your hands The birds with heauenly tuned throtes Possesse woods Ecchoes with sweet notes Which to your senses will impart A musique to enflame the hart Vpon the bare and leafe-lesse Oake The Ring-Doues woings will prouoke A colder blood then you possesse To play with me and doe no lesse In bowers of Laurell trimly dight We will out-weare the silent night While Flora busie is to spread Her richest treasure on our bed Ten thousand Glow-wormes shall attend And all their sparkling lights shall spend All to adorne and beautifie Your lodging with most maiestie Then in mine armes will I enclose Lillies faire mixture with the Rose Whose nice perfections in loues play Shall tune me to the highest key Thus as we passe the welcome night In sportfull pleasures and delight The nimble Fairies on the grounds Shall daunce and sing mellodious sounds If these may serue for to entice Your presence to Loues Paradice Then come with me and be my deare And we will strait begin the yeare FINIS Ignoto ¶ Two Pastorals vpon three friends meeting IOyne mates in mirth to me Grant pleasure to our meeting Let Pan our good God see How gratefull is our greeting Ioyne hearts and hands so let it be Make but one minde in bodies three Ye Hymnes and singing skill Of God Apolloes giuing Be prest our reeds to fill With sound of musicke liuing Ioyne hearts and hands c. Sweet Orpheus Harpe whose sound The stedfast mountaines moued Let here thy skill abound To ioyne sweet friends beloued Ioyne hearts and hands c. My two and I be met A happy blessed Trinitie As three most ioyntly set In firmest hand of vnitie Ioyne hearts and hands c. Welcome my two to me E.D. F.G. P.S. The number best beloued Within my heart you be In friendship vnremoued Ioyne hands c. Giue leaue your flocks to range Let vs the while be playing Within the Elmy grange Your flocks will not be straying Ioyne hands c. Cause all the mirth you can Since I am now come hither Who neuer ioy but when I am with you together Ioyne hands c. Like louers doe their loue So ioy I in your seeing Let nothing me remoue From alwaies with you being Ioyne hands c. And as the turtle Doue To mate with whom he liueth Such comfort feruent loue Of you to my heart giueth Ioyne hands c. Now ioyned be our hands Let them be ne're asunder But linkt in binding bands By metamorphoz'd wonder So should our seuered bodies three As one for euer ioyned be FINIS S. Phil. Sidney The wood-mans walke THrough a faire Forrest as I went vpon a Sommers day I met a Wood-man quaint and gent yet in a strange aray I maruail'd much at his disguise whom I did know so well But thus in tearmes both graue and wise his minde he gan to tell Friend muse not at this fond aray but list a while to me For it hath holpe me to suruay what I shall shew to thee Long liu'd I in this Forrest faire till wearie of my weale Abroad in walkes I would repaire as now I
alas too deere possest so high a place As I whose simple heart aye thought himselfe still sure But now I see high springing tides they may not aye endure She knowes my guiltlesse heart and yet she lets it pine Of her vntrue professed loue so feeble is the twine What wonder is it then if I berent my haires And crauing death continually doe bathe my selfe in teares When Craesus King of Lide was cast in cruell hands And yeelded goods and life into his enemies hands What tongue could tell his woe yet was his griefe much lesse Then mine for I haue lost my Loue which might my woe redresse Ye Woods that shroud my limbs giue now your hollow sound That ye may helpe me to bewaile the cares that me confound Ye Riuers rest a while and stay your streames that runne Rue Thestilis the wofulst man that rests vnder the Sunne Transport my sighs ye winds vnto my pleasant soe My trickling teares shall witnes beare of this my cruell woe Oh happy man were I if all the Gods agreed That now the Sisters three should cut in twaine my fatall threed Till life with loue shall end I here resigne allioy Thy pleasant sweet I now lament whose lacke breeds mine annoy Farewell my deere therefore farewell to me well knowne If that I die it shall be said that thou hast slaine thine owne FINIS L.T. Howard E. of Surrie ¶ To Phillis the faire Shepheardesse MY Phillis hath the morning Sunne at first to looke vpon her And Phillis hath morne-waking birds her risings still to honour My Phillis hath prime-featherd flowres that smile when she treads on them And Phillis hath a gallant Flocke that leapes since she doth owne them But Phillis hath too hard a hart alas that she should haue it It yeelds no mercie to desert nor grace to those that craue it Sweet Sunne when thou look'st on pray her regard my moane Sweet birds when you sing to her to yeeld some pitty woo her Sweet flowers that she treads on tell her her beauty deads one And if in life her loue she nill agree me Pray her before I die she will come see me FINIS S. E. D. ¶ The Shepheard Dorons Iigge THrough the shrubs as I can crack for my Lambs pretty ones mongst many little ones Nimphs I meane whose haire was black As the Crow Like as the Snow Her face and browes shin'd I weene I saw a little one a bonny pretty one As bright buxome and as sheene As was shee On her knee That lull'd the God whose arrowes warmes such merry little ones such faire-fac'd pretty ones As dally in Loues chiefest harmes Such was mine Whose gray eyne Made me loue I gan to wooe this sweet little one this bonny pretty one I wooed hard a day or two Till she bad Be not sad Wooe no more I am thine owne thy dearest little one thy truest pretty one Thus was faith and firme loue showne As behooues Shepheards Loues FINIS Ro. Greene. ¶ Astrophell his Song of Phillida and Coridon FAire in a morne O fairest morne was neuer morne so faire There shone a Sunne though not the Sunne that shineth in the ayre For the earth and from the earth was neuer such a creature Did come this face was neuer face that carried such a feature Vpon a hill O blessed hill was neuer hill so blessed There stoode a man was neuer man for woman so distressed This man beheld a heauenly view which did such vertue giue As cleares the blinde and helps the lame and makes the dead man liue This man had hap O happy man more happy none then hee For he had hap to see the hap that none had hap to see This silly Swaine and silly Swaines are men of meanest grace Had yet the grace O gracious guest to hap on such a face He pitty cried and pitty came and pittied so his paine As dying would not let him die but gaue him life againe For ioy whereof he made such mirth as all the Woods did ring And Pan with all his Swaines came forth to heare the Shepheards sing But such a Song sung neuer was nor shall be sung againe Of Phillida the Shepheards Queene and Coridon the Swaine Faire Phillis is the Shepheards Queene was neuer such a Queene as shee And Coridon her onely Swaine was neuer such a Swaine as he Faire Phillis hath the fairest face that euer eye did yet behold And Coridon the constant'st faith that euer yet kept Flock in fold Sweet Phillis is the sweetest sweet that euer yet the earth did yeeld And Coridon the kindest Swaine that euer yet kept Lambs in field Sweet Philomell is Phillis bird though Coridon be he that caught her And Coridon doth heare her sing though Phillida be she that taught her Poore Coridon doth keepe the fields though Phillida be she that owes them And Phillida doth walke the Meades though Coridon be he that mowes them The little Lambs are Phillis Loue though Coridon is he that feedes them The Gardens faire are Phillis ground though Coridon be he that weedes them Since then that Phillis onely is the onely Shepheards onely Queene And Coridon the onely Swaine that onely hath her Shepheard beene Though Phillis keepe her bower of state shall Coridon consume away No Shepheard no worke out the weeke and Sunday shall be holy-day FINIS N. Breton ¶ The passionate Shepheards Song ON a day alack the day Loue whose moneth was euer May Spied a blossome passing faire Playing in the wanton ayre Through the veluet leaues the winde All vnseene gan passage finde That the Shepheard sicke to death Wish'd himselfe the Heauens breath Ayre quoth he thy cheekes may blow Ayre would I might triumph so But alas my hand hath sworne Nere to plucke thee from thy thorne Vow alack for youth vnmeet Youth so apt to pluck a sweet Thou for whom Ioue would sweare Iuno but an Aethiope were And deny himselfe for Ioue Turning mortall for my Loue. FINIS W. Shakespeare ¶ The vnknowne Shepheards complaint MY Flocks feed not my Ewes breed not My Ramines speed not all is amisse Loue is denying Faith is defying Harts renying causer of this All my merry ligges are quite forgot All my Ladies loue is lost God wot Where her faith was firmely fixt in loue There a nay is plac'd without remoue One silly crosse wrought all my losse O frowning Fortune cursed fickle Dame For now I see inconstancie More in women then in men remaine In blacke mourne I all feares scorne I Loue hath forlorne 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 plaide Playes not at all but seemes afraide With sighs so deepe procures to weepe In howling-wise to see my dolefull plight How sighs resound through hartlesse ground Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight Cleare Wels spring not sweet birds sing not
swift of pace When yelping Hounds pursue her to and fro Hounds fierce in chase to reaue her life Cease tongue to tell of any more compares Compares too rude Daphnis deserts and beautie are too rare Then heere conclude faire Daphnis praise FINIS I. Wootton ¶ Dorons description of his faire Shepheardesse Samela LIke to Diana in her Sommer weede Girt with a Crimson roabe of brightest die goes faire Samela Whiter then be the flocks that stragling feed When wash'd by Arethusa faint they lie is faire Samela As faire Aurora in her morning gray Deckt with the ruddy glister of her loue is faire Samela Like louely Thetis on a calmed day When as her brightnes Neptunes fancies moue shines faire Samela Her tresses gold her eyes like glassie streames Her teeth are pearle the brests are Iuorie of faire Samela Her cheekes like Rose and Lilly yeeld forth gleames Her browes bright arches fram'd of Ebonie thus faire Samela Passeth faire Venus in her brightest hew And Iuno in the shew of Maiestie for she 's Samela Pallas in wit all three if you well view For beauty wit and matchlesse dignitie yeeld to Samela FINIS Ro. Greene. ¶ Wodenfrides Song in praise of Amargana THe Sunne the season in each thing Reuiues new pleasures the sweet Spring Hath put to flight the Winter keene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The pathes where Amargana treads With flowrie tap'stries Flora spreads And nature cloathes the ground in greene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The Groaues put on their rich aray With Hawthorne bloomes imbroydered gay And sweet perfum'd with Eglantine To glad our louely Sommer Queene The silent Riuer stayes his course Whilst playing on the christall sourse The siluer scaled fish are seene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The Woods at her faire sight reioyces The little Birds with their loud voyces In consort on the bryers beene To glad our louely Sommer Queene The fleecie Flockes doe scud and skip The wood-Nimphs Fawnes and Satires trip And daunce the Mirtle trees betweene To glad our louely Sommer Queene Great Pan our God for her deere sake This feast and meeting bids vs make Of Shepheards Lads and Lasses sheene To glad our louely Sommer Queene And euery Swaine his chaunce doth proue To winne faire Amarganaes loue In sporring strifes quite voide of spleene To glad our louely Sommer Queene All happines let Heauen her lend And all the Graces her attend Thus bid me pray the Muses nine Long liue our louely Sommer Queene FINIS W. H. Another of the same HAppy Shepheards sit and see with ioy The peerelesse wight For whose sake Pan keepes from ye annoy And giues delight Blessing this pleasant Spring Her praises must I sing List you Swaines list to me The whiles your Flocks feeding be First her brow a beauteous Globe I deeme And golden haire And her cheeke Auroraes roabe doth seeme But farre more faire Her eyes like starres are bright And dazle with their light Rubies her lips to see But to taste Nectar they be Orient pearles her teeth her smile doth linke The Graces three Her white necke doth eyes beguile to thinke it Iuorie Alas her Lilly hand How it doth me commaund Softer silke none can be And whiter milke none can see Circes wand is not so straite as is Her body small But two pillers beare the waight of this maiesticke Hall Those be I you assure Of Alabaster pure Polish'd fine in each part Ne're Nature yet shewed like Art How shall I her pretty tread expresse when she doth walke Scarse she doth the Primerose head depresse or tender stalke Of blew-veind Violets Whereon her foote she sets Vertuous she is for we finde In body faire a beaut'ous minde Liue faire Amargana still extold In all my rime Hand want Art when I want will t'vnsold her worth diuine But now my Muse doth rest Despaire clos'd in my brest Of the valour I sing Weake faith that no hope doth bring FINIS W. H. ¶ An excellent Pastorall Dittie A Carefull Nimph with carelesse greefe opprest Vnder the shaddow of an Ashen tree With Lute in hand did paint out her vnrest vnto a Nimph that bare her company No sooner had she tuned euery string But sob'd and sigh'd and thus began to sing Ladies and Nimphs come listen to my plaint on whom the cheerefull Sunne did neuer rise If pitties stroakes your tender breasts may taint come learne of me to wet your wanton eyes For Loue in vaine the name of pleasure beares His sweet delights are turned into feares The trustlesse shewes the frights the feeble ioyes the freezing doubts the guilefull promises The feigned lookes the shifts the subtill toyes the brittle hope the stedfast heauines The wished warre in such vncertaine peace These with my woe my woes with these increase Thou dreadfull God that in thy Mothers lap do'st lye and heare the crie of my complaint And seest and smilest at my sore mishap that lacke but skill my sorrowes here to paint Thy fire from heauen before the hurt I spide Quite through mine eyes into my brest did glide My life was light my blood did spirt and spring my body quicke my heart began to leape And euery thornie thought did prick and sting the fruit of my desired ioyes to reape But he on whom to thinke my soule still tyers In bale forsooke and lest me in the bryers Thus Fancie strung my Lute to layes of Loue and Loue hath rock'd my wearie Muse a-sleepe And sleepe is broken by the paines I proue and euery paine I feele doth force me weepe Then farewell fancie loue sleepe paine and sore And farewell weeping I can waile no more FINIS Shep. Tonie ¶ Phillidaes Loue-call to her Coridon and his replying Phil. COridon arise my Coridon Titan shineth cleare Cor. Who is it that calleth Coridon who is it that I heare Phil. Phillida thy true-Loue calleth thee arise then arise then arise and keepe thy Flock with me Cor. Phillida my true-Loue is it she I come then I come then I come and keepe my flocke with thee Phil. Here are cherries ripe my Coridon eate them for my sake Cor. Here 's my Oaten pipe my louely one sport for thee to make Phil. Here are threeds my true-Loue fine as silke to knit thee to knit thee a paire of stockings white as milke Cor. Here are Reedes my true-Loue fine and neate to make thee to make thee a Bonnet to with-stand the heate Phil. I will gather flowers my Coridon to set in thy Cap Cor. I will gather Peares my louely one to put in thy lap Phil. I will buy my true-Loue Garters gay for Sundayes for Sundayes to weare about his legges so tall Cor. I will buy my true-Loue yellow Say for Sundayes for Sundayes to weare about her middle small Phil. When my Coridon sits on a hill making melodie Cor. When my louely one goes to her wheele singing cherily Phil. Sure me thinks my true-Loue doth excell for sweetnesse for sweetnesse our Pan that
a Song After that thou didst honour and take hould Of my sweet Loue and of my happy soule What greater ioy can any man desire Then to remaine a Captiue vnto Loue And haue his heart subiected to his power And though sometimes he tast a little sower By suffering it as mild as gentle Doue Yet must he be in hew of that great hire Whereto be doth aspire If Louers liue afflicted and in paine Let them with cause complaine Of cruell fortune and of times aâ—â—… And let not them accuse Thee gentle-Loue that doth with 〈…〉 Within thy sweetest ioyes each laâ—… 〈◊〉 Behold a faire sweet face and shining eyeâ— Resembling two most bright and twinkling Sending vnto the soule a perfect light Behold the rare perfections of those wâ—â—â—â— And Iuorie hands from griefes most surest barres That minde wherein all life and glory lyes That ioy that neuer dyes That he doth feele that loues and is beloued And my delights approued To see her pleas'd whose loue maintaines me here All those I count so deere That though sometimes Loue doth my ioyes controule Yet am I glad he dwels within my soule FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ A Shepheards dreame A Silly Shepheard lately sate among a Flock of Sheepe Where musing long on this and that at last he fell a sleepe And in the slumber as he lay he gaue a pitteous groane He thought his sheepe were runne away and he was left alone He whoopt he whistled and he call'd but not a sheepe came neere him Which made the Shepheard sore appall'd to see that none would heare him But as the Swaine amazed stood in this most solemne vaine Came Phillida forth of the Wood and stood before the Swaine Whom when the Shepheard did behold he straight began to weepe And at the heart he grew a cold to thinke vpon his sheepe For well he knew where came the Queene the Shepheard durst not stay And where that he durst not be seene the sheepe must needes away To aske her if she saw his Flock might happen patience moue And haue an answere with a mock that such demanders proue Yet for because he saw her come alone out of the Wood He thought he would not stand as dombe when speech might doe him good And therefore falling on his knees to aske but for his sheepe He did awake and so did leese the honour of his sleepe FINIS N. Breton ¶ The Shepheards Ode NIghts were short and dayes were long Blossomes on the Hawthorne hong Philomell Night-Musiques King Told the comming of the Spring Whose sweet-siluer-sounding-voyce Made the little birds reioyce Skipping light from spray to spray Till Aurora shew'd the day Scarse might one see when I might see For such chances sudden be By a Well of Marble-stone A Shepheard lying all alone Weepe he did and his weeping Made the fading flowers spring Daphnis was his name I weene Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene When Aurora saw t' was he Weepe she did for companie Weepe she did for her sweet Sonne That when antique Troy was wonne Suffer'd death by lucklesse Fate Whom she now laments too late And each morning by Cocks crewe Showers downe her siluer dewe Whose teares falling from their spring Giue moisture to each liuing thing That on earth encrease and grow Through power of their friendly foe Whose effect when Flora felt Teares that did her bosome melt For who can resist teares often But she whom no teares can soften Peering straite aboue the banks Shew'd her selfe to giue her thanks Wondring thus at Natures worke Wherein many meruailes lurke Me thought I heard a dolefull noyse Consorted with a mournfull voyce Drawing neere to heare more plaine Heare I did vnto my paine For who is not pain'd to heare Him in griefe whom heart holds deere Silly Swaine with griefe ore-gone Thus to make his pitteous mone Loue I did alas the while Loue I did but did beguile My deere Loue with louing so Whom as then I did not know Loue I did the fairest Boy That these fields did ere enioy Loue I did faire Ganimede Venus darling beauties bed Him I thought the fairest creature Him the quintessence of Nature But yet alas I was deceau'd Loue of reason is bereau'd For since then I saw a Lasse Lasse that did in beauty passe Passe faire Ganimede as farre As Phaebus doth the smallest starre Loue commanded me to loue Fancie bad me not remoue My affection from the Swaine Whom I neuer could obtaine For who can obtaine that fauour Which he cannot grant the crauer Loue at last though loth preuail'd Loue that so my heart assail'd Wounding me with her faire eyes Ah how Loue can subtillize And deuise a thousand shifts How to worke men to his drifts Her it is for whom I mourne Her for whom my life I scorne Her for whom I weepe all day Her for whom I sigh and say Either she or else no creature Shall enioy my loue whose feature Though I neuer can obtaine Yet shall my true-loue remaine Till my body turn'd to clay My poore soule must passe away To the heauens where I hope It shall finde a resting scope Then since I loued thee alone Remember me when I am gone Scarse had he these last words spoken But me thought his heart was broken With great griefe that did abound Cares and griefe the heart confound In whose heart thus riu'd in three Eliza written I might see In Caracters of crimson blood Whose meaning well I vnderstood Which for my heart might not behold I hied me home my Sheepe to fold FINIS Rich. Barnefielde ¶ The Shepheards commendation of his Nimph. VVHat Shepheard can expresse The fauour of her face To whom in this distresse I doe appeale for grace A thousand Cupids flye About her gentle eye From which each throwes a Dart That kindleth soft sweet fire Within my sighing hart Possessed by desire No sweeter life I trie Then in her loue to die The Lilly in the field That glories in his white For purenesse now must yeeld And render vp his right Heauen pictur'd in her face Doth promise ioy and grace Faire Cynthiaes siluer light That beates on running streames Compares not with her white Whose haires are all Sun-beames So bright my Nimph doth shine As day vnto my eyne With this there is a red Exceedes the Damaske-Rose Which in her cheekes is spred Whence euery fauour growes In Skie there is no starre But she surmounts it farre When Phaebus from the bed Of Thetis doth arise The morning blushing red In faire Carnation wise He shewes in my Nimphs face As Queene of euery grace This pleasant Lilly white This taint of Roseate red This Cynthiaes siluer light This sweet faire Dea spred These Sun-beames in mine eye These beauties make me die FINIS Earle of Oxenford ¶ Coridon to his Phillis ALas my heart mine eye hath wronged thee Presumptuous eye to gaze on Phillis face Whose heauenly eye no mortall man may see But he must die or purchase Phillis grace Poore
Coridon the Nimph whose eye doth moue thee Doth loue to draw but is not drawne to loue thee Her beautie Natures pride and Shepheards praise Her eye the heauenly Planet of my life Her matchlesse wit and grace her fame displaies As if that Ioue had made her for his wise Onely her eyes shoot fierie darts to kill Yet is her hart as cold as Caucase hill My wings too weake to flye against the Sunne Mine eyes vnable to sustaine her light My hart doth yeeld that I am quite vndone Thus hath faire Phillis slaine me with her sight My bud is blasted withred is my leafe And all my Corne is rotted in the sheafe Phillis the golden fetter of my minde My fancies Idoll and my vitall power Goddesse of Nimphs and honour of thy kinde This ages Phoenix beauties richest bower Poore Coridon for loue of thee must die Thy beauties thrall and conquest of thine eye Leaue Coridon to plough the barren field Thy buds of hope are blasted with disgrace For Phillis lookes no harty loue doe yeeld Nor can she loue for all her louely face Die Coridon the spoile of Phillis eye She cannot loue and therefore thou must die FINIS S. E. Dyer ¶ The Shepheards description of Loue. Melibeus SHepheard what 's Loue I pray thee tell Faustus It is that Fountaine and that Well Where pleasure and repentance dwell It is perhaps that sauncing bell That toules all into heauen or hell And this is loue as I heard tell Meli. Yet what is Loue I pre-thee say Faust It is a worke on holy-day It is December match'd with May When lustie-bloods in fresh aray Heare ten months after of the play And this Loue as I heare say Meli. Yet what is Loue good Shepheard saine Faust It is a Sun-shine mixt with raine It is a tooth-ach or like paine It is a game where none doth gaine The Lasse saith no and would full faine And is Loue as I heare saine Meli. Yet Shepheard what is Loue I pray Faust It is a yea it is a nay A pretty kind of sporting fray It is a thing will soone away Then Nimphs take vantage while ye may And this is Loue as I heare say Meli. Yet what is Loue good Shepheard show Faust A thing that creepes it cannot goe A prize that passeth to and fro A thing for one a thing for moe And he that prooues shall finde it so And Shepheard this is loue I trow FINIS Ignoto ¶ To his Flockes FEede on my Flockes securely Your Shepheard watched surely Runne about my little Lambs Skip and wanton with your Dammes Your louing Heard with care will tend ye Sport on faire flocks at pleasure Nip Vaestaes flowring treasure I my selfe will duely harke When my watchfull dogge doth barke From Woolfe and Foxe I will defend ye FINIS H.C. ¶ A Roundelay betweene two Shepheards 1. Shep. TEll me thou gentle Shepheards Swaine Who is younder in the Vale is set 2. Shep. Oh it is she whose sweetes doe staine The Lilly Rose the Violet 1. Shep. Why doth the Sunne against his kind Fixe his bright Chariot in the skies 2. Shep. Because the Sunne is strooken blinde With looking on her heauenly eyes 1. Shep. Why doe thy flockes forbeare their food Which sometime were thy chiefe delight 2. Shep. Because they need no other good That liue in presence of her light 1. Shep. Why looke these flowers so pale and ill That once attir'd this goodly Heath 2. Shep. She hath rob'd Nature of her skill And sweetens all things with her breath 1. Shep. Why slide these brookes so slow away Whose bubling murmur pleas'd thine eare 2. Shep. Oh meruaile not although they stay When they her heauenly voyce doe heare 1. Shep. From whence come al these Shepheards Swains And louely Nimphs attir'd in greene 2. Shep. From gathering Garlands on the Plaines To crowne our faire the Shepheards Queene Both. The Sunne that lights this world below Flocks flowers and brookes will witnesse beare These Nimphs and Shepheards all doe know That it is she is onely faire FINIS Michaell Drayton ¶ The solitarie Shepheards Song O Shadie Vale O faire enriched Meades O sacred woods sweet fields rising mountaines O painted flowers greene hearbs where Flora treads Refresht by wanton winds and watry fountaines O all you winged Queristers of wood that pearcht aloft your former paines report And straite againe recount with pleasant moode your present ioyes in sweet and seemely sort O all you creatures whosoeuer thriue on mother Earth in Seas by Ayre by Fire More blest are you then I heere vnder Sunne loue dies in me when as hee doth reuiue In you I perish vnder beauties ire where after stormes winds frosts your life is wun FINIS Thom. Lodge ¶ The Shepheards resolution in loue IF Ioue him-selfe be subiect vnto Loue. And range the woods to finde a mortall pray If Neptune from the Seas him-selfe remoue And seeke on sands with earthly wights to play Then may I loue my Shepheardesse by right Who farre excels each other mortall wight If Pluto could by Loue be drawne from hell To yeeld him-selfe a silly virgins thrall If Phaebus could vouchsafe on earth to dwell To winne a rusticke Mayde vnto his call Then how much more should I adore the sight Of her in whom the heauens them-selues delight If Countrie Pan might follow Nimphs in chase And yet through loue remaine deuoide of blame If Satires were excus'd for seeking grace To ioy the fruits of any mortall Dame My Shepheardesse why should not I loue still On whom nor Gods nor men can gaze their fill FINIS Thom. Watson ¶ Coridons Hymne in praise of Amarillis VVOuld mine eyes were christall Fountaines Where you might the shadow view Of my greefes like to these mountaines Swelling for the losse of you Cares which curelesse are alas Helpelesse haplesse for they grow Cares like tares in number passe All the seedes that loue doth sow Who but could remember all Twinckling eyes still representing Starres which pierce me to the gall Cause they lend no more contenting And you Nectar-lips alluring Humane sence to taste of heauen For no Art of mans manuring Finer silke hath euer weauen Who but could remember this The sweet odours of your fauour When I smeld I was in blisse Neuer felt I sweeter sauour And your harmelesse hart annointed As the custome was of Kings Shewes your sacred soule appointed To be prime of earthly things Ending thus remember all Cloathed in a mantle greene 'T is enough I am your thrall Leaue to thinke what eye hath seene Yet the eye may not so leaue Though the thought doe still repine But must gaze till death bequeath Eyes and thoughts vnto her shrine Which if Amarillis chaunce Hearing to make haste to see To life death she may aduance Therefore eyes and thoughts goe free FINIS T. B. ¶ The Shepheard Carillo his Song Guarda mi las Vaccas Carillo por tu fe Besa mi Primero Yo te las guardare I Pre-thee
keepe my Kine for me Carillo wilt thou Tell. First let me haue a kisse of thee And I will keepe them well If to my charge or them to keepe Thou doest commend thy Kine or Sheepe for thee I doe suffise Because in this I haue beene bred But for so much as I haue fed By viewing thee mine eyes Command not me to keepe thy beast Because my selfe I can keepe least How can I keepe I pre-thee tell Thy Kie my selfe that cannot well defend nor please thy kinde As long as I haue serued thee But if thou wilt giue vnto me a kisse to please my minde I aske no more for all my paine and I will keepe them very faine For thee the gift is not so great That I doe aske to keepe thy Neate but vnto me it is A guerdon that shall make me liue Disdaine not then to lend or giue so small a gift as this But if to it thou canst not frame Then giue me leaue to take the same But if thou dost my sweet denie To recompence me by and by thy promise shall relent me Here-after some reward to finde Behold how I doe please my minde and fauours doe content me That though thou speak'st it but in iest I meane to take it at the best Behold how much loue workes in me And how ill recompenc'd of thee that with the shadow of Thy happy fauours though delay'd I thinke my selfe right well appay'd although they proue a scoffe Then pitty me that haue forgot My selfe for thee that carest not O in extreame thou art most faire And in extreame vniust despaire thy crueltie maintaines Oh that thou wert so pittifull Vnto these torments that doe pull my soule with sencelesse paines As thou shew'st in that face of thine Where pitty and mild grace should shine If that thy faire and sweetest face Assureth me both peace and grace thy hard and cruell hart Which in that white breast thou do'st beare Doth make me tremble yet for feare thou wilt not end my smart In contraries of such a kinde Tell me what succour shall I finde If then yong Shepheardesse thou craue A Heards-man for thy beast to haue with grace thou maist restore Thy Shepheard from his barren loue For neuer other shalt thou proue that seekes to please thee more And who to serue thy turne will neuer shun The nipping frost and beames of parching Sun FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Corins dreame of his faire Chloris VVHat time bright Titan in the Zenith sat And equally the fixed poales did heate When to my flocke my daily woes I chat And vnderneath a broad Beech tooke my seate The dreaming God which Morpheus Poets call Augmenting fuell to my Aetnaes fire With sleepe possessing my weake sences all In apparitions makes my hopes aspire Me thought I saw the Nimph I would embrace With armes abroad comming to me for helpe A lust-led Satire hauing her in chase Which after her about the fields did yelpe I seeing my Loue in such perplexed plight A sturdie bat from off an Oake I reft And with the Rauisher continued fight Till breathlesse I vpon the earth him left Then when my coy Nimph saw her breathlesse foe With kisses kinde she gratifies my paine Protesting rigour neuer more to show Happy was I this good hap to obtaine But drowsie slumbers flying to their Cell My sudden ioy conuerted was to bale My wonted sorrowes still with me doe dwell I looked round about on Hâ—…and Dale But I could neither my faire Chloris view Nor yet the Satire which yer-while I slew FINIS W.S. ¶ The Shepheard Damons passion AH trees why fall your leaues so fast Ah Rockes where are your roabes of mosse Ah Flocks why stand you all agast Trees Rocks and Flocks what are ye pensiue for my losse The birds me thinkes tune naught but moane The windes breath naught but bitter plaint The beasts forsake their dennes to groane Birds Windes and Beastes what doth my losse your powers attaint Floods weepe their springs aboue their bounds And Eccho wailes to see my woe The roabe of ruthe doth cloath the grounds Floods Eccho grounds why doe ye all these teares bestow The Trees the Rocks and Flocks replie The Birds the Windes the Beasts report Floods Eccho grounds for sorrow crie Wee greeue since Phillis nill kinde Damons loue consort FINIS Thom. Lodge ¶ The Shepheard Musidorus his complaint COme Shepheards weeds become your Masters mind Yeeld outward shew what inward change hee tries Nor be abash'd since such a guest you finde Whose strongest hope in your weake comfort lies Come Shepheards weedes attend my wofull cries Disuse your selues from sweet Menalcas voyce For other be those tunes which sorrow ties From those cleare notes which freely may reioice Then poure out plaint and in one word say this Helplesse his plaints who spoiles him selfe of blisse FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ The Shepheards braule one halfe answering the other 1. VVE loue and haue our loues rewarded 2. We loue and are no whit regarded 1. We finde most sweet affections snare 2. That sweet but sower dispairefull care 1. Who can dispaire whom hope doth beare 2. And who can hope that feeles despaire All. As without breath no pipe doth moue No Musique kindly without loue FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ Dorus his comparisons MY Sheepe are thoughts which I both guide serue Their pasture is faire hils of fruitlesse loue On barren sweetes they feede and feeding sterue I waile their lot but will not other proue My Sheepe-hooke is wanne hope which all vpholds My weedes desires cut out in endlesse folds What wooll my Sheepe shall beare while thus they liue In you it is you must the iudgement giue FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ The Shepheard Faustus his Song A fayre Maid wed to prying Jelousie One of the fairest as euer J did see If that thou wilt a secret Louer take Sweet life do not my secret loue forsak ECclipsed was our Sunne And faire Aurora darkened to vs quite Our morning starre was done And Shepheards star lost cleane out of our sight When that thou didst thy faith in wedlock plight Dame Nature made thee faire And ill did carelesse Fortune marry thee And pitty with despaire It was that this thy haplesse hap should be A fayre Maid wed to prying Iealousie Our eyes are not so bold To view the Sun that flies with radiant wing Vnlesse that we doe hold A glasse before them or some other thing Then wisely this to passe did Fortune bring To couer thee with such a vaile For heretofore when any viewed thee Thy sight made his to faile For sooth thou art thy beautie telleth me One of the fairest as euer I did see Thy graces to obscure With such a froward husband and so base She meant thereby most sure That Cupids force loue thou should'st embrace For 't is a force to loue no wondrous case Then care no more for kin And doubt no more for feare thou must forsake To loue thou
Praised be her beames the glory of the night Prais'd be her power by which all powers abound Prais'd be her Nimphs with whom she decks the Woods Prais'd be her Knights in whom true honour liues Prais'd be that force by which she moues the floods Let that Diana shine which all these giues In heauen Queene she is among the Spheares She Mistresse-like makes all things to be pure Eternity in her oft change she beares She beauty is by her the faire endure Time weares her not she doth his Chariot guide Mortality below her Orbe is plast By her the vertue of the starres downe slide In her is Vertues perfect Image cast A knowledge pure it is her woorth to know With Circes let them dwell that thinke not so FINIS Ignoto ¶ The Shepheards dumpe LIke desart Woods with darksome shades obscured Where dreadful beasts where hatefull horror raigneth Such is my wounded heart whom sorrow paineth The Trees are fatall shafts to death inured That cruell loue within my heart maintaineth To whet my griefe when as my sorrow waineth The ghastly beasts my thoughts in cares assured Which wadge me warre whilst heart no succour gaineth With false suspect and feare that still remaineth The horrors burning sighs by cares procured Which forth I send whilst weeping eye complaineth To coole the heate the helplesse heart containeth But shafts but cares sighs horrors vnrecured Were nought esteem'd if for their paines awarded Your Shepheards loue might be by you regarded FINIS S. E. D. ¶ The Nimph Dianaes Song VVHen that I poore soule was borne I was borne vnfortunate Presently the Fates had sworne To fore-tell my haplesse state Titan his faire beames did hide Phaebe ' clips'd her siluer light In my birth my Mother died Young and faire in heauie plight And the Nurse that gaue me suck Haplesse was in all her life And I neuer had good luck Being mayde or married wife I lou'd well and was belou'd And forgetting was forgot This a haplesse marriage mou'd Greeuing that it kills me not With the earth would I were wed Then in such a graue of woes Daily to be buried Which no end nor number knowes Young my Father married me Forc'd by my obedience Syrenus thy faith and thee I forgot without offence Which contempt I pay so farre Neuer like was paid so much Iealousies doe make me warre But without a cause of such I doe goe with iealous eyes To my Folds and to my Sheepe And with iealousie I rise When the day begins to peepe At his Table I doe eate In his bed with him I lie But I take no rest nor meate Without cruell iealousie If I aske him what he ayles And whereof he iealous is In his answere then he failes Nothing can he say to this In his face there is no cheere But he euer hangs the head In each corner he doth peere And his speech is sad and dead Ill the poore soule liues ywis That so hardly married is FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Rowlands Madrigall FAire Loue rest thee heere Neuer yet was morne so cloere Sweet be not vnkinde Let me thy fauour finde Or else for loue I die Harke this pretty bubling spring How it makes the Meadowes ring Loue now stand my friend Here let all sorrow end And I will honour thee See where little Cupid lyes Looking babies in her eyes Cupid help me now Lend to me thy bowe to wound her that wounded me Here is none to see or tell All our Flocks are feeding by This banke with Roses spred Oh it is a dainty bed fit for my Loue and me Harke the birds in yonder Groaue How they chaunt vnto my Loue Loue be kinde to me As I haue beene to thee for thou hast wonne my hart Calme windes blow you faire Rock her thou sweet gentle ayre O the morne is noone The euening comes too soone to part my Loue and me The Roses and thy lips doe meete Oh that life were halfe so sweet Who would respect his breath That might die such a death oh that life thus might die All the bushes that be neere With sweet Nightingales beset Hush sweet and be still Let them sing their fill there 's none our ioyes to let Sunne why do'st thou goe so fast Oh why do'st thou make such hast It is too earely yet So soone from ioyes to flit why art thou so vnkinde See my little Lambkins runne Looke on them till I haue done Hast not on the night To rob me of her sight that liue but by her eyes Alas sweet Loue we must depart Harke my dogge begins to barke Some bodie 's comming neere They shall not finde vs heere for feare of being chid Take my Garland and my Gloue Weare it for my sake my Loue Tomorrow on the greene Thou shalt be our Shepheards Queene crowned with Roses gay FINIS Michaell Drayton ¶ Alanius the Shepheard his dolefull Song complaining of Ismeniaes crueltie NO more O cruell Nimph now hast thou prayed Enough in thy reuenge proue not thine ire On him that yeelds the fault is now appayed Vnto my cost Now mollifie thy dire Hardnes and brest of thine so much obdured And now raise vp though lately it hath erred A poore repenting soule that in the obscured Darknes of thy obliuion lyes enterred For it falls not in that that should commend thee That such a Swaine as I may once offend thee If that the little Sheepe with speed is flying From angry Shepheard with his words afrayed And runneth here and there with fearefull crying And with great griefe is from the Flock estrayed But when it now perceiues that none doth follow And all alone so farre estraying mourneth Knowing what danger it is in with hollow And fainting bleates then fearefull it returneth Vnto the Flock meaning no more to leaue it Should it not be a iust thing to receaue it Lift vp those eyes Ismenia which so stately To view me thou hast lifted vp before me That liberty which was mine owne but lately Giue me againe and to the same restore me And that mild heart so full of loue and pittie Which thou didst yeeld to me and euer owe me Behold my Nimph I was not then so wittie To know that sincere loue that thou didst shew me Now wofull man full well I know and rue it Although it was too late before I knew it How could it be my enemie say tell me How thou in greater fault and errour being Then euer I was thought should'st thus repell me And with new league and cruell title seeing Thy faith so pure and worthy to be changed And what is that Ismenia that doth bind it To loue whereas the same is most estranged And where it is impossible to finde it But pardon me if herein I abuse thee Since that the cause thou gau'st me doth excuse me But tell me now what honour hast thou gayned Auenging such a fault by thee committed And there-vnto by thy occasion trayned What haue I done that I haue not
reliefe I feare a mayd that I shall die If that be all the Shepheard sayd heigh hoe the Shepheard sayd He make thee wiue it gentle Mayde and so recure thy maladie Hereon they kist with many an oath heigh hoe many an oath And fore God Pan did plight their troath so to the Church apace they hie And God send euery pretty peate heigh hoe the pretty peate That feares to die of this conceit so kinde a friend to helpe at last Then Maydes shall neuer long againe heigh hoe to long againe When they finde ease for such a paine thus my Roundelay is past FINIS Thom. Lodge ¶ The Shepheards Sonnet MY fairest Ganimede disdaine me not Though silly Shepheard I presume to loue thee Though my harsh Songs and Sonnets cannot moue thee Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot Apollo Ioue and many Gods beside S'dain'd not the name of Country Shepheard Swaines Nor want we pleasures though we take some paines We liue contentedly A thing call'd pride Which so corrupts the Court and euery place Each place I meane where learning is neglected And yet of late euen learnings selfe 's infected I know not what it meanes in any case We onely when Molorchus gins to peepe Learne for to fold and to vnfold our Sheepe FINIS Rich. Barnefield ¶ Seluagia and Siluanus their Songs to Diana Sel. I See thee iolly Shepheard merrie And firme thy faith and sound as a berry Sil. Loue gaue me ioy and Fortune gaue it As my desire could wish to haue it Sel. What didst thou wish tell me sweet Louer Whereby thou might'st such ioy recouer Sil. To loue where loue should be inspired Since there 's no more to be desired Sel. In this great glory and great gladnes T'hinkst thou to haue no touch of sadnes Sil. Good Fortune gaue me not such glory To mock my Loue or make me sorrie Sel. If my firme loue I were denying Tell me with sighs would'st thou be dying Sil. Those words in ieast to heare thee speaking For very griefe this hart is breaking Sel. Yet would'st thou change I pre-thee tell me In seeing one that did excell me Sil. O no for how can I aspire To more then to mine owne desire Sel. Such great affection do'st thou beare me As by thy words thou seem'st to sweare me Sil. Of thy deserts to which a debter I am thou maist demaund this better Sel. Sometimes me thinks that I should sweare it Sometimes me thinks thou should'st not beare it Sil. Onely in this my hap doth grieue me And my desire not to beleeue me Sel. Imagine that thou do'st not loue mine But some braue beautie that 's aboue mine Sil. To such a thing sweet doe not will me Where fayning of the same doth kill me Sel. I see thy firmenesse gentle Louer More then my beautie can discouer Sil. And my good fortune to be higher Then my desert but not desire FINIS Bar. Yong. ¶ Montanus his Madrigall IT was a Vallie gawdie greene Where Dian at the Fount was seene Greene it was And did passe All other of Dianaes bowers In the pride of Floraes flowers A Fount it was that no Sunne sees Cirkled in with Cipres trees Set so nie As Phaebus eye Could not doe the Virgins scathe To see them naked when they bathe She sate there all in white Colour fitting her delight Virgins so Ought to goe For white in Armorie is plaste To be the colour that is chaste Her taffata Cassock you might see Tucked vp aboue her knee Which did show There below Legges as white as Whales bone So white and chaste was neuer none Hard by her vpon the ground Sate her Virgins in a round Bathing their Golden haire And singing all in notes hie Fie on Venus flattering eye Fie on Loue it is a toy Cupid witlesse and a boy All his fires And desires Are plagues that God sent from on hie To pester men with miserie As thus the Virgins did disdaine Louers ioy and Louers paine Cupid nie Did espie Greeuing at Dianaes Song Slily stole these Maides among His bow of steele darts of fire He shot amongst them sweet desire Which straite flies In their eyes And at the entrance made them start For it ranne from eye to hart Calisto straite supposed Ioue Was faire and frolique for to loue Dian she Scap'd not free For well I wote heere vpon She lou'd the Swaine Endimion Clitia Phaebus and Chloris eye Thought none so faire as Mercurie Venus thus Did discusse By her Sonne in darts of fire None so chaste to check desire Dian rose with all her Maydes Blushing thus at Loues braides With sighs all Shew their thrall And flinging thence pronounc'd this saw What so strong as Loues sweet law FINIS Ro. Greene. ¶ Astrophell to Stella his third Song IF Orpheus voyce had force to breathe such musiques loue Through pores of sencelesse trees as it could make them moue If stones good measure daunc'd the Thebane walls to build To cadence of the times which Amphyons Lyre did yeeld More cause a like effect at least-wise bringeth O stones O trees learne hearing Stella singeth If Loue might sweet'n so a boy of Shepheards broode To make a Lyzard dull to taste Loues daintie food If Eagle fierce could so in Grecian Mayde delight As his light was her eyes her death his endlesse night Earth gaue that Loue heau'n I trow Loue defineth O Beasts O Birds looke Loue loe Stella shineth The birds stones and trees feele this and feeling Loue And if the trees nor stones stirre not the same to proue Nor beasts nor birds doe come vnto this blessed gaze Know that small Loue is quicke and great Loue doth amaze They are amaz'd but you with reason armed O eyes O eares of men how are you charmed FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ A Song betweene Syrenus and Syluanus Syrenus VVHo hath of Cupids cates dainties praied May feed his stomach with them at his pleasure If in his drinke some ease he hath assayed Then let him quench his thirsting without measure And if his weapons pleasant in their manner Let him embrace his standard and his banner For being free from him and quite exempted Ioyfull I am and proud and well contented Syluanus Of Cupids daintie cates who hath not prayed May be depriued of them at his pleasure If wormewood in his drinke he hath assayed Let him not quench his thirsting without measure And if his weapons in their cruell manner Let him abiure his standard and his banner For I not free from him and not exempted Ioyfull I am and proud and well contented Syrenus Loue 's so expert in giuing many a trouble That now I know not why he should be praised He is so false so changing and so double That with great reason he must be dispraised Loue in the end is such aiarring passion That none should trust vnto his peeuish fashion For of all mischiefe he 's the onely Master And to my good a torment and disaster Syluanus
their couer They must leaue their wonted vses Since I leaue to be a Louer They shall liue with thee enclosed I will loath my Pen and Paper Art shall neuer be supposed Sloth shall quench the watching Taper Kisse them silence kisse them kindly Though I leaue them yet I loue them Though my wit haue led them blindly Yet a Swaine did once approue them I will trauaile soiles remoued Night and morning neuer merrie Thou shalt harbour that I loued I will loue that makes me wearie If perchaunce the Shepheard strayeth In thy walkes and shades vnhaunted Tell the teene my hart betrayeth How neglect my ioyes haue daunted FINIS Thom. Lodge ¶ A Pastorall Song betweene Phillis and Amarillis two Nimphs each answering other line for line FIe on the sleights that men deuise heigh hoe silly sleights When simple Maides they would entice Maides are yong mens chiefe delights Nay women they witch with their eyes eyes like beames of burning Sunne And men once caught they soone despise so are Shepheards oft vndone If any young man win a maide happy man is hec By trusting him she is betraide fie vpon such treacherie If Maides win young men with their guiles heigh hoe guilefull greefe They deale like weeping Crocodiles that murder men without releefe I know a simple Countrie Hinde heigh hoe sillie Swaine To whom faire Daphne proued kinde was he not kinde to her againe He vowed by Pan with many an oath heigh hoe Shepheards God is he Yet since hath chang'd and broke his troath troth-plight broke will plagued be She had deceiued many a Swaine fie on false deceit And plighted troth to them in vaine there can bee no griefe more great Her measure was with measure paide heigh hoe heigh hoe equall meede She was begui'ld that had betraide so shall all deceiuers speede If euery Maide were like to mee heigh hoe hard of hart Both loue and louers scorn'd should be scorners shall be sure of smart If euery Maide were of my minde heigh hoe heigh hoe louely sweet They to their Louers should proue kinde kindnes is for Maiden's meet Me thinkes loue is an idle toy heigh hoe busie paine Both wit and sense it doth annoy both sense and wit thereby we gaine Tush Phillis cease be not so coy heigh hoe heigh hoe coy disdaine I know you loue a Shepheards boy fie that Maydens so should fame Well Amarillis now I yeeld Shepheards pipe aloude Loue conquers both in towne and field like a Tirant fierce and proude The euening starre is vp yee see Vesper shines we must away Would euery Louer might agree so we end our Roundelay FINIS H. C. ¶ The Shepheards Antheme NEere to a banke with Roses set about Where prettie Turtles ioyning bill to bill And gentle springs steale softly murmuring out Washing the foote of pleasures sacred hill There little Loue sore wounded lyes his bow and arrowes broken Bedewde with teares from Venus eyes Oh that it should be spoken Beare him my hart slaine with her scornefull eye Where sticks the arrow that poore hart did kill With whose sharpe pyle yet will him ere hee die About my hart to write his latest will And bid him send it backe to mee at instant of his dying That cruell cruell she may see my faith and her denying His Hearse shall be a mournefull Cypres shade And for a Chauntrie Philomels sweet lay Where prayer shall continually be made By Pilgrime louers passing by that way With Nimphs and Shepheards yeerely mone his timelesse death beweeping And telling that my hart alone hath his last will in keeping FINIS Mich. Drayton ¶ The Countesse of Pembrokes Pastorall A Shepheard and a Shepheardesse sate keeping sheepe vpon the downes His lookes did gentle blood expresse her beautie was no foode for clownes Sweet louely twaine what might you be Two fronting hills bedeckt with flowers they chose to be each other seate And there they stole their amorous houres with sighs and teares poore louers meate Fond Loue that feed'st thy seruants so Faire friend quoth he when shall I liue That am halfe dead yet cannot die Can beautie such sharpe guerdon giue to him whose life hangs in your eye Beautie is milde and will not kill Sweet Swaine quoth shee accuse not mee that long haue beene thy humble thrall But blame the angry destinie whose kinde consent might finish all Vngentle Fate to crosse true Loue. Quoth hee let not our Parents hate disioyne what heauen hath linckt in one They may repent and all too late if childlesse they be left alone Father nor friend should wrong true loue The Parents frowne said shee is death to children that are held in awe From them we drew our vitall breath they challenge dutie then by law Such dutie as kills not true Loue They haue quoth hee a kinde of sway on these our earthly bodies here But with our soules deale not they may the God of loue doth hold them deere He is most meet to rule true loue I know said she t is worse then hell when Parents choise must please our eyes Great hurt comes thereby I can tell forc'd loue in desperate danger dies Faire Maid then fancie thy true loue If wee quoth he might see the houre of that sweet state which neuer ends Our heauenly gree might haue the power to make our Parents as deere friends All ranck our yeelds to soueraigne loue Then God of loue said she consent and shew some wonder of thy power Our Parents and our owne content may be confirmde by such an houre Graunt greatest God to further loue The Fathers who did alwaies tend when thus they got their priuate walke As happy fortune chaunc'd to send vnknowne to each heard all this talke Poore soules to be so crost in loue Behinde the hills whereon they sate they lay this while and listned all And were so mooued both thereat that hate in each began to fall Such is the power of sacred loue They shewed themselues in open sight poore Louers Lord how they were mazde And hand in hand the Fathers plight whereat poore harts they gladly gazde Hope now begins to further loue And to confirme a mutuall band of loue that at no time should cease They likewise ioyned hand in hand the Shepheard and the Shepheardesse Like fortune still befall true loue FINIS Shep. Ionie Another of Astrophell THE Nightingale so soone as Aprill bringeth Vnto her rested sense a perfect waking While late bare earth proud of new clothing springeth Sings out her woes a thorne her Song-booke making And mournefully bewailing Her throate in tunes expresseth What griefe her breast oppresseth For Tereus force on her chast will preuailing Oh Philomela faire oh take some gladnes That here is iuster cause of plaintfull sadnes Thine earth now springs mine fadeth Thy throne without my thorne my hart inuadeth Alas she hath no other cause of languish But Tereus loue on her by strong hand wroken Wherein she suffering all her spirits languish Full woman-like complaines her will
pipe could euer play better Shepheards Roundelay Shall we goe sing the Song The Song Neuer Loue did euer wrong faire Maides holde hands all a-long Shall we goe learne to woo To woo Neuer thought came euer to better deed could better doe Shall we goe learne to kisse To kisse Neuer hart could euer misse comfort where true meaning is Thus at base thy run They run When the sport was scarse begun but I awak't and all was done FINIS N. Breton ¶ Another of the same SAy that I should say I loue ye would you say t is but a saying But if Loue in prayers moue ye will you not be mou'd with praying Thinke I thinke that Loue should know ye will you thinke t is but a thinking But if Loue the thought doe show ye will ye loose your eyes with winking Write that I doe write you blessed will you write t is but a writing But if truth and Loue confesse it will ye doubt the true enditing No I say and thinke and write it write and thinke and say your pleasure Loue and truth and I endite it you are blessed out of measure FINIS N. Breton ¶ The Louers absence kils me her presence kils me THE frozen Snake opprest with heaped snow By strugling hard gets out her tender head And spies farre off from where she lies below The winter Sunne that from the North is fled But all in vaine she lookes vpon the light Where heate is wanting to restore her might What doth it helpe a wretch in prison pent Long time with biting hunger ouer-prest To see without or smell within the sent Of daintie fare for others tables drest Yet Snake and pris'ner both behold the thing The which but not with sight might comfort bring Such is my state or worse if worse may be My heart opprest with heauie frost of care Debar'd of that which is most deere to me Kild vp with cold and pinde with euill fare And yet I see the thing might yeeld reliefe And yet the sight doth breed my greater griefe So Thisoe saw her Louer through the wall And saw thereby she wanted that she saw And so I see and seeing want withall And wanting so vnto my death I draw And so my death were twenty times my friend If with this verse my hated life might end FINIS Ignoto ¶ The Shepheards conceit of Prometheus PRometheus when first from heauen hie He brought downe fire ere then on earth vnseene Fond of delight a Satyre standing by Gaue it a kisse as it like sweet had beene Feeling forth-with the other burning power Wood with the smart with shoutes and shrikings shrill He sought his case in Riuer Field and bower But for the time his griefe went with him still So silly I with that vnwonted sight In humane shape an Angell from aboue Feeding mine eyes th' impression there did light That since I runne and rest as pleaseth Loue The difference is the Satires lips my heart He for a while I euermore haue smart FINIS S. E. D. Another of the same A Satyre once did runne away for dread with sound of Horne which he him-selfe did blow Fearing and feared thus from him-selfe hee fled deeming strange euill in that he did not know Such causelesse feares when coward mindes doe take it makes them flie that which they faine would haue As this poore beast who did his rest forsake thinking not why but how him-selfe to saue Euen thus mought I for doubts which I conceaue of mine owne words mine owne good hap betray And thus might I for feare of may be leaue the sweet pursute of my desired pray Better like I thy Satire dearest Dyer Who burnt his lips to kisse faire shining fier FINIS S. Phil. Sidney ¶ The Shepheards Sunne FAire Nimphs sit ye here by me on this flowrie greene While we this merrie day doe see some things but sildome seene Shepheards all now come sit a round on yond checkquer'd plaine While from the Woods we here resound some comfort for Loues paine Euery bird sits on his bough As brag as he that is the best Then sweet Loue reueale how our mindes may be at rest Eccho thus replied to mee Sit vnder yonder Beechen tree And there Loue shall shew thee how all may be redrest Harke harke harke the Nightingale in her mourning lay She tells her stories wofull tale to warne yee if she may Faire Maides take yee heede of loue it is a perilous thing As Philomell her selfe did proue abused by a King If Kings play false beleeue no men That make a seemely outward show But caught once beware then for then begins your woe They will looke babies in your eyes And speake so faire as faire may be But trust them in no wise example take by me Fie fie said the Threstle-cocke you are much too blame For one mans fault all men to blot impairing their good name Admit you were vs'd amisse by that vngentle King It followes not that you for this should all mens honours wring There be good and there be bad And some are false and some are true As good choyse is still had amongst vs men as you Women haue faults as well as wee Some say for our one they haue three Then smite not nor bite not when you as faultie be Peace peace quoth Madge-Howlet then sitting out of sight For women are as good as men and both are good alike Not so said the little Wrenne difference there may be The Cocke alway commands the Henne the men shall goe for me Then Robbin-Redbrest stepping in Would needes take vp this tedious strife Protesting true louing In either lengthened life If I loue you and you loue me Can there be better harmonie Thus ending contending Loue must the vmpiere be Faire Nimphs Loue must be your guide chast vnspotted loue To such as doe your thralls betide resolu'd without remoue Likewise iolly Shepheard Swaines if you doe respect The happy issue of your paines true loue must you direct You heare the birds contend for loue The bubling springs doe sing sweet loue The Mountaines and Fountaines doe Eccho nought but loue Take hands then Nimphes and Shepheards all And to this Riuers musickes fall Sing true loue and chast loue begins our Festiuall FINIS Shep. Tonie ¶ Loue the onely price of loue THe fairest Pearles that Northerne Seas doe breed For precious stones from Easterne coasts are sold Nought yeelds the earth that from exchange is freed Gold values all and all things value Gold Where goodnes wants an equall change to make There greatnesse serues or number place doth take No mortall thing can beare so high a price But that with mortall thing it may be bought The corne of Sicill buies the Westerne spice French wine of vs of them our cloath is sought No pearles no gold no stones no corne no spice No cloath no wine of loue can pay the price What thing is loue which nought can counteruaile Nought saue it selfe eu'n such a