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The homely house that harbors quiet rest;
ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL best;
Love in my bosom like a bee The sweet consort of mirth and music's
Doth suck his sweet; fare;
Now with his wings he plays with me, Obscurèd life sets down a type of bliss:
Now with his feet. A mind content both crown and kingdom Within mine eyes he makes his nest, is.
His bed amidst my tender breast;
And yet he robs me of my rest.
Ah, wanton, will ye?
And makes his pillow of my knee,
The livelong night.
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He lends me every lovely thing;
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting.
Else I with roses every day
Will whip you hence,
For your offence. thee.
I'll shut my eyes to keep you in,
I'll make you fast it for your sin,
I'll count your power not worth a pin. 25
Alas! what hereby shall I win
If he gainsay me?
With many a rod?
30 Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Because a god.
Then sit thou safely on my knee, Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be; When thou art old there's grief enough for
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee. thee.
O Cupid, so thou pity me,
35 The wanton smiled, father wept,
Spare not, but play thee!
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO
father's joy. 30
my love, knee,
And we will all the pleasures prove, When thou art old there's grief enough for That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, thee.
Woods, or steepy mountains, yields. i barmony,
Then by that happy blissful day
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see, That have cast off their rags of clay,
And walk apparelled fresh like me. 2 badge of a pilgrim.
I'll take them first,
When we have wandered all our ways, 5 To quench their thirst
Shuts up the story of our days: And taste of nectar suckets 25 But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
, At those clear wells
My God shall raise me up, I trust.
ROBERT SOUTHWELL (15617-1596)
THE BURNING BABE Then the blessèd paths we'll travel, Strowed with rubies thick as gravel; As I in hoary winter's night stood shiverCeilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
ing in the snow, High walls of coral, and pearly bowers. Surprised I was with sudden heat which
made my heart to glow; From thence to Heaven's bribeless hall, | And lifting up a fearful eye to view what Where no corrupted voices brawl;
fire was near, No conscience molten into gold;
A pretty babe, all burning bright, did in No forged accuser bought or sold;
the air appear, No cause deferred, no vain-spent jour- Who, scorched with excessive heat, such ney,
floods of tears did shed,
5 For there Christ is the King's Attorney, 40 As though his floods should quench his Who pleads for all, without degrees,
flames which with his tears were fed; And he hath angels but no fees.
"Alas!” quoth he, “but newly born in And when the grand twelve million jury fiery heats I fry, Of our sins, with direful fury,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or Against our souls black verdicts give,
feel my fire but I! Christ pleads his death; and then we live. My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel,
wounding thorns; Be Thou my speaker, taintless Pleader! | Love is the fire and sighs the smoke, the Unblotted Lawyer! true Proceeder!
ashes, shame and scorns; Thou giv'st salvation, even for alms, The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy Not with a bribed lawyer's palms.
blows the coals;
The metal in this furnace wrought are And this is mine eternal plea
men's defiled souls; To Him that made heaven and earth and For which, as now on fire I am to work sea:
them to their good, That, since my flesh must die so soon, So will I melt into a bath to wash them in And want a head to dine next noon, Just at the stroke, when my veins start With this he vanished out of sight, and and spread,
15 Set on my soul an everlasting head! And straight I called unto mind that it
was Christmas-day. Then am I ready, like a palmer fit, To tread those blest paths, which before I writ.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1664-1616)
SONGS FROM THE PLAYS THE CONCLUSION
From Love's LABOR'S LOST Even such is time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have, When icicles hang by the wall, And pays us but with earth and dust; And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, Who in the dark and silent grave, And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
Is she kind as she is fair?
Who doth ambition shun For beauty lives with kindness.
And loves to live i’ the sun, Love doth to her eyes repair
Seeking the food he eats, To help him of his blindness,
And pleased with what he gets, And, being helped, inhabits there.
Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Here shall he see Then to Silvia let us sing
15 That Silvia is excelling;
But winter and rough weather. She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling; To her let us garlands bring.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind From A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
As man's ingratitude; Over hill, over dale,
Thy tooth is not so keen, Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Because thou art not seen,
5 Over park, over pale,
Although thy breath be rude. Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere,
5 Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green Swister than the moon's sphere;
holly: And I serve the fairy Queen,
Most friendship is feigning, most loving To dew her orbs upon the green.
mere folly: The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
Then, heigh ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky! I must go seek some dewdrops here,
That dost not bite so nigh And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
As benefits forgot; I cool by stirring.
Though thou the waters warp,
From ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA Thy sting is not so sharp
Come, thou monarch of the vine,
Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!2
In thy vats our cares be drowned,
With thy grapes our hairs be crowned!
5 It was a lover and his lass
Cup us, till the world go round! With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
And Phæbus 'gins arise,
On chaliced flowers that lies;
5 Between the acres of the rye,
To ope their golden eyes;
This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that life was but a flower
In spring time, etc.
And therefore take the present time, 15
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime
In spring time, etc.
From TWELFTH NIGHT
That can sing both high and low:
5 Every wise man's son doth know.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;4
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;
What's to come is still unsure:
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
From MEASURE FOR MEASURE Take, O, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
Lights that do mislead the morn:
From THE TEMPEST
And then take hands;
3 cup-shaped #thunderbolt. 6 hushed.