It hath bene a proverbe before I was borne,
For yong doth it pricke that wyll be a thorne.

From A newe mery and wittie Comedie or Enterlude, treating upon the Historie of Jacob and Esau. 1568.

CANTUS.

1.

If I freely may discover

What would please me in my lover,
I would have her faire and wittie,
Savouring more of Court than Cittie;
A little proude, but full of pittie,
Light and humourous in her toying;
Oft building hopes, and soone destroying,
Long but sweete in the enjoying;
Neither too easie nor too harde,
All extreames I would have barde.

2.

Shee should be allowed her passions,
So they were but usd as fashions;
Sometimes froward, and then frowning;
Sometimes sickish, and then swowning,
Every fit with change still crowning;
Purely jelous I would have her,
Then only constant when I crave her,
Tis a vertue should not save her.
Thus nor her delicates would cloy mee,
Neither her peevishnesse annoy mee.

From Poetaster, by Ben Jonson, 1602.

2

LOVES

LOVES DUET.

Cupid all his arts did prove
To invite my heart to love,
But I alwayes did delay
His mild summons to obey,
Being deaf to all his charms.
Strait the God assumes his arms,
With his bow and quiver he
Takes the field to duel me.
Armed like Achilles, I
With my shield alone defie
His bold challenge, as he cast
His golden darts, I as fast
Catchd his arrows in my shield,
Till I made him leave the field;
Fretting and disarmed then,
The angry God returns agen
All his flames; stead of a dart
Throws himself into my heart;
Useless I my shield require,
When the fort is all on fire;
I in vain the field did win,
Now the enemys within.
Thus betrayd, at last I cry,

Love, thou hast the victory.

From Loves Labyrinth, or the Royal Shep

herdess, by Thomas Forde.

1660.

SONG.

SONG.

How I laugh at their fond wish,
Whose desire

Aymes no higher

Than the bayts of Midas dish.

What is gold but yellow durt?

Which th' unkind

Heavens refined,

When they made us love our hurt.

Would to heaven that I might steepe
My faint eyes

In the wise

In the gentle dew of sleepe,

Whose effects doe frese us so,

That we deeme

It does seeme

Both deaths brother and his foe.

This does always with us keepe,

And being dead,

Thats not fled,

Death is but a longer sleepe.

From the very excellent Tragedy of SFORZA, Duke of Milan, by Robert Gomersall. 1633.

SONG.

Come ye young men, come along,
With your musique, dance and song,

VOL. II.

C

Bring

Bring your lasses in your hands,
For tis that which Love commands;
Then to the Maypole come away,
For it is now a holiday.

It is the choice time of the year,
For the vi'lets now appear;

Now the rose receives its birth,

And prettie primrose decks the earth.
Then to the Maypole come away,
For it is now a holiday.

And when you well reckoned have,
What kisses you your sweethearts gave,
Take them all again, and more,

It will never make them poor.
Then to the Maypole, &c.

When you thus have spent the time,
Till the day be past its prime,

To your beds repaire at night,

And dreame there of your days delight.
Then to the Maypole come away,

For it is now a holiday.

From Action and Diana, by Robert Cox. No date.

SONG.

SONG.

What bird so sings, yet so does wail,
Tis Philomel the Nightingale.
Jugg, jugg, jugg, Terue she cries,

And hating earth to heaven she flies-Cuckow.
Ha ha hark, hark, the Cuckows sing
Cuckow to welcom in the spring.

Brave prick song, who ist now we hear,
Tis the larks silver leer a leer.
Cherup the sparrow flies away,
For hee fell toot ere break of day.
Ha ha hark, hark, the Cuckows sing
Cuckow to welcom in the spring.

From the Suns Darling. A moral Masque, by John Foard and Thomas Decker. 1657. This song also occurs in Lylys Alexander and Campaspe

ON THE DEPARTURE OF SPRING.

Here lies the blith Spring;

Who first taught birds to sing,

Yet in April herself fell a crying.

Then May growing hot,

A sweating sickness she got,

And the first of June lay a dying;
Yet no month can say

But her merry daughter, May,

C 2

Stuck