HOW SHOULD I YOUR TRUE LOVE KNOW? From HAMLET WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE OW should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. White his shroud as the mountain snow, Larded with sweet flowers, Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers. A THE NIGHTINGALE From CYNTHIA, ETC. RICHARD BARNFIELD S it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Trees did grow and plants did spring, Save the nightingale alone. And there sung the dolefullest ditty Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry; Tereu, tereu, by and by: That to hear her so complain Scarce I could from tears refrain; For her griefs so lively shown -Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain, None takes pity on thy pain: Senseless trees they cannot hear thee; All thy friends are lapp'd in lead: QUEEN MAB'S VISIT TO PIGWIGGEN From NYMPHIDIA: THE COURT OF FAIRY MICHAEL DRAYTON ER chariot ready straight is made, Upon the coach-box getting. Her chariot of a snail's fine shell, The wing of a pied butterfly; I trow 'twas simple trimming. The wheels composed of crickets' bones, With thistle-down they shod it; That Mab, his queen, should have been there, He would not have abode it. She mounts her chariot in a trice, Which when they heard, there was not one As she had been diswitted. Hop and Mop and Drab, so clear, Her special maids of honour; Upon a grasshopper they got, But after her they hie them. A cobweb over them they throw, |