T The glory of the kitchen, In sewing whose fate, No tailor e'er had stitch in; Wherein I have my wishes, Pantler. Oh, man or beast, Or you, at least, That wears or brow or antler, Prick up your ears Unto the tears Of me, poor Paul the Pantler, The cursed crust of treason With loyal knife:— Oh, doleful strife, To hang thus without reason! Chorus.-Three merry boys, &c. TAKE, OH! TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY. AKE, oh! take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow A WIFE FOR A MONTH.† TO THE BLEST EVANTHE. ET those complain that feel Love's cruelty, With folded arms, and sighs all day, * The first stanza of this song is found in Measure for Measure.— See ante, p. 95. The origin of both verses may be traced to the fragment Ad Lydiam, ascribed to Cornelius Gallus. The following are the corresponding passages, which discover a resemblance too close to have been merely accidental: The English version of the second of these passages, by the translator of Secundus, is still nearer to Fletcher's song. 'Again, above its envious rest, Yet, what is living in her eye, Or being blessed with her sweet tongue, A golden gyve, a pleasing wrong: To be your own but one poor month, I'd give THE LOVERS' PROGRESS.* THE SONG OF THE DEAD HOST. "TIS late and cold; stir up the fire; Sit close, and draw the table nigher; You shall find ready when you're up, THE PILGRIM.† NEPTUNE COMMANDING STILLNESS ON THE SEA. DOWN, ye angry waters all! Ye loud whistling whirlwinds, fall! Down, ye proud waves! ye storms, cease! * One of the pieces left unfinished by Fletcher, and completed by another writer-supposed to be Shirley, or Massinger. † Ascribed to Fletcher. Fright not with your churlish notes, Nor monster in my empery Once show his head, or terror bring; TELL THE CATECHISM OF LOVE. me, dearest, what is love? Those poor fools that long to prove. Tell me more, are women true? Some are willing, some are strange, Be in both, All shall love, to love anew. Tell me more yet, can they grieve? Yes, and sicken sore, but live, And be wise, and delay, -When you men are as wise as they. Then I see, Faith will be, Never till they both believe.† The Prologue speaks of only one author,-one writer of commendatory verses ascribes it to both Beaumont and Fletcher,-the rest to Fletcher alone. †The music of this song was composed by Robert Jones. The first THE INVITATION. COME hither, you that love, and hear me sing Green, fresh, and lusty as the pride of spring, Come hither, youths that blush, and dare not know And old men, worse than you, that cannot blow And with the power of my enchanting song, Come hither, you that hope, and you that cry; Leave off complaining; Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never die, Come hither, fools, and blush you stay so long And mad men, worse than you, that suffer wrong, And in an hour, with my enchanting song, two verses are repeated in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, with some variations. 'Tell me, dearest, what is love? 'Tis a lightning from above; 'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire; Doth beguile The poor hearts of men that prove. Tell me more, are women true? Are they fair, and never kind? Ever toward Those that love, to love anew.' |