Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
But now are minutes added to the hours;

To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!
Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now
borrow :

Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to

morrow.

XVI

It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three,
That liked of her master as well as well might be,
Till looking on an Englishman, the fair'st that eye
could see,

Her fancy fell a-turning.

Long was the combat doubtful that love with love

did fight,

To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight: To put in practice either, alas, it was a spite

Unto the silly damsel!

But one must be refused; more mickle was the pain
That nothing could be used to turn them both to

gain,

For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain :

Alas, she could not help it!

ΤΟ

Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day, Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away : Then, lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay; 15 For now my song is ended.

XVII

On a day, alack the day!

Love, whose month was ever May,

xvi. Not by Shakespeare.

2. master, teacher.

xvii. Dumain's song to the

most divine Kate, with trifling verbal alterations, Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 3. 100.

Spied a blossom passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:

Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath,
'Air,' quoth he, 'thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!

But, alas! my hand hath sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet:
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.'

My flocks feed not,
My ewes breed not,
My rams speed not,
All is amiss :
Love's denying,
Faith's defying,

Heart's renying,

Causer of this.

XVIII

All my merry jigs are quite forgot,

All my lady's love is lost, God wot:

Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
There a nay is placed without remove.
One silly cross

Wrought all my loss;

O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame!

xviii. Published in Weelkes' Madrigals, 1597, and reprinted in England's Helicon, 1600, with

the signature 'Ignoto.'

7. renying, disowning.
13. cross, accident, mischance.

O cruel speeding,

Fraughted with gall.

My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal;
My wether's bell rings doleful knell;

My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid;
My sighs so deep

Procure to weep,

In howling wise, to see my doleful plight. How sighs resound

Through heartless ground,

Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody
fight!

All our pleasure known to us poor swains,

All our merry meetings on the plains,

All our evening sport from us is fled,

27. no deal, nothing.

32. Procure, contrive.

20

25

30

35

40

45

All our love is lost, for Love is dead.

Farewell, sweet lass,

Thy like ne'er was

For a sweet content, the cause of all my

moan:

Poor Corydon

Must live alone;

Other help for him I see that there is none.

XIX

When as thine eye hath chose the dame,
And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,

As well as fancy, partial wight:

Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young nor yet unwed.

And when thou comest thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell,-
A cripple soon can find a halt ;—

But plainly say thou lovest her well,
And set thy person forth to sell.

What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night:
And then too late she will repent
That thus dissembled her delight;

And twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away.

What though she strive to try her strength,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,

xix. Possibly Shakespeare's.

50

S

20

4. fancy, partial wight; Malone's conjecture for fancy (party all might).'

Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say;
'Had women been so strong as men,
In faith, you had not had it then.'

And to her will frame all thy ways;
Spare not to spend, and chiefly there
Where thy desert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady's ear:

The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.

Serve always with assured trust,
And in thy suit be humble true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,

Press never thou to choose anew:

When time shall serve, be thou not slack
To proffer, though she put thee back.

The wiles and guiles that women work,
Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft,

A woman's nay doth stand for nought?

Think women still to strive with men,
To sin and never for to saint:
There is no heaven, by holy then,
When time with age doth them attaint.
Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.

But, soft! enough,—too much, I fear—
Lest that my mistress hear my song:

25

30

35

40

45

50

45. by holy then. Many satisfactory. ['By holy!' is emendations have been pro- still a common exclamation in posed, but the line remains unIreland. L.]

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