Chapter II: Preface (2)

He. I can believe it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain;
But afterward, your paines hard
Within a day or twain
Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take
Comfort to you again.
Why should ye ought? for, to make thought,
Your labour were in vain.
And thus I do; and pray you to,
As hartely as I can:
For I must to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Now, sith that ye have showed to me
The secret of your mind,
I shall be plain to you again,
Like as ye shall me find.
Sith it is so that ye will go,
I will not live behind.
Shall never be said the Nut-brown Maid
Was to her love unkind.
Make you ready, for so am I,
Although it were anone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Yet I you rede to take good heed
What men will think and say:
Of young, of old, it shall be told
That ye be gone away
Your wanton will for to fulfil,
In green-wood you to play;
And that ye might for your delight
No longer make delay
Rather than ye should thus for me
Be called an ill woman
Yet would I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Though it be sung of old and young
That I should be to blame,
Theirs be the charge that speak so large
In hurting of my name:
For I will prove that faithful love
It is devoid of shame;
In your distress and heaviness
To part with you the same:
And sure all tho that do not so
True lovers are they none:
For in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. I counsel you, Remember how
It is no maiden's law
Nothing to doubt, but to run out
To wood with an outlaw.
For ye must there in your hand bear
A bow ready to draw;
And as a thief thus must you live
Ever in dread and awe;
Whereby to you great harm might grow:
Yet had I liever than
That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. I think not nay but as ye say;
It is no maiden's lore;
But love may make me for your sake,
As I have said before,
To come on foot, to hunt and shoot,
To get us meat and store;
For so that I your company
May have, I ask no more.
From which to part it maketh my heart
As cold as any stone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. For an outlaw this is the law,
That men him take and bind:
Without pitie, hanged to be,
And waver with the wind.
If I had need (as God forbede!)
What socours could ye find?
Forsooth I trow, you and your bow
For fear would draw behind.
And no mervail; for little avail
Were in your counsel than:
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Right well know ye that women be
But feeble for to fight;
No womanhede it is, indeed,
To be bold as a knight:
Yet in such fear if that ye were
With enemies day and night,
I would withstand, with bow in hand,
To grieve them as I might,
And you to save; as women have
From death men many one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep valleys,
The snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat; for dry or wete,
We must lodge on the plain;
And, us above, no other roof
But a brake bush or twain:
Which soon should grieve you, I believe;
And ye would gladly than
That I had to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Sith I have here been partynere
With you of joy and bliss,
I must alsò part of your woe
Endure, as reason is:
Yet I am sure of one pleasure,
And shortly it is this--
That where ye be, me seemeth, parde,
I could not fare amiss.
Without more speech I you beseech
That we were shortly gone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. If ye go thyder, ye must consider,
When ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for to gete,
Nether bere, ale, ne wine,
Ne shetes clean, to lie between,
Made of thread and twine;
None other house, but leaves and boughs,
To cover your head and mine.
Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diete
Should make you pale and wan:
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Among the wild deer such an archere,
As men say that ye be,
Ne may not fail of good vitayle
Where is so great plentè
And water clear of the rivere
Shall be full sweet to me;
With which in hele I shall right wele
Endure, as ye shall see;
And, or we go, a bed or two
I can provide anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Lo yet, before, ye must do more,
If ye will go with me:
As, cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle by the knee;
With bow in hand for to withstand
Your enemies, if need be:
And this same night, before daylight,
To woodward will I flee.
If that ye will all this fulfil,
Do it shortly as ye can:
Else will I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. I shall as now do more for you
Than 'longeth to womanhede;
To short my hair, a bow to bear,
To shoot in time of need.
O my sweet mother! before all other
For you I have most drede!
But now, adieu! I must ensue
Where fortune doth me lead.
All this make ye: Now let us flee;
The day cometh fast upon:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,
And I shall tell you why--
Your appetite is to be light
Of love, I well espy:
For, right as ye have said to me,
In likewise hardily
Ye would answere whosoever it were,
In way of company:
It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;
And so is a woman:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. If ye take heed, it is no need
Such words to say to me;
For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,
Or I loved you, parde:
And though that I of ancestry
A baron's daughter be,
Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squire of low degree;
And ever shall, whatso befall
To die therefore anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. A baron's child to be beguiled,
It were a cursed deed!
To be felaw with an outlaw--
Almighty God forbede!
Yet better were the poor squyere
Alone to forest yede
Than ye shall say another day
That by my cursed rede
Ye were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid,
The best rede that I can,
Is, that I to the green-wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Whatever befall, I never shall
Of this thing be upbraid:
But if ye go, and leave me so,
Then have ye me betrayed.
Remember you wele, how that ye dele;
For if ye, as ye said,
Be so unkind to leave behind
Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust me truly that I shall die
Soon after ye be gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. If that ye went, ye should repent;
For in the forest now
I have purveyed me of a maid
Whom I love more than you:
Another more fair than ever ye were
I dare it well avow;
And of you both each should be wroth
With other, as I trow:
It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

She. Though in the wood I understood
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remove my thought,
But that I will be your':
And she shall find me soft and kind
And courteis every hour;
Glad to fulfil all that she will
Command me, to my power:
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,
Yet would I be that one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Mine own dear love, I see the prove
That ye be kind and true;
Of maid, of wife, in all my life,
The best that ever I knew.
Be merry and glad; be no more sad;
The case is changed new;
For it were ruth that for your truth
Ye should have cause to rue.
Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said
To you when I began:
I will not to the green-wood go;
I am no banished man.

She. These tidings be more glad to me
Than to be made a queen,
If I were sure they should endure;
But it is often seen
When men will break promise they speak
The wordis on the splene.
Ye shape some wile me to beguile,
And steal from me, I ween:
Then were the case worse than it was,
And I more wo-begone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

He. Ye shall not nede further to drede:
I will not disparage
You (God defend), sith you descend
Of so great a linage.
Now understand: to Westmoreland,
Which is my heritage,
I will you bring; and with a ring,
By way of marriage
I will you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can:
Thus have you won an Earles son,
And not a banished man.

Here may ye see that women be
In love meek, kind, and stable;
Let never man reprove them than,
Or call them variable;
But rather pray God that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometime proveth such as He loveth,
If they be charitable.
For sith men would that women should
Be meek to them each one;
Much more ought they to God obey,
And serve but Him alone.

never a dele] never a bit. than] then. in fere] in company together. rede I can] counsel I know. part with] share with. tho] those. hele] health. yede] went. on the splene] that is, in haste.

Anonymous. 16th Cent.

26. As ye came from the Holy Land

AS ye came from the holy land
Of Walsinghame,
Met you not with my true love
By the way as you came?

How should I know your true love,
That have met many a one
As I came from the holy land,
That have come, that have gone?

She is neither white nor brown,
But as the heavens fair;
There is none hath her form divine
In the earth or the air.

Such a one did I meet, good sir,
Such an angelic face,
Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appear
In her gait, in her grace.

She hath left me here alone
All alone, as unknown,
Who sometime did me lead with herself,
And me loved as her own.

What 's the cause that she leaves you alone
And a new way doth take,
That sometime did love you as her own,
And her joy did you make?

I have loved her all my youth,
But now am old, as you see:
Love likes not the falling fruit,
Nor the withered tree.

Know that Love is a careless child,
And forgets promise past:
He is blind, he is deaf when he list,
And in faith never fast.

His desire is a dureless content,
And a trustless joy;
He is won with a world of despair,
And is lost with a toy.

Of womenkind such indeed is the love,
Or the word love abused,
Under which many childish desires
And conceits are excused.

But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never dead, never cold,
From itself never turning.

Anonymous. 16th Cent. (?)

27. The Lover in Winter Plaineth for the Spring

O WESTERN wind, when wilt thou blow
That the small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!

Anonymous. 16th Cent.

28. Balow

BALOW, my babe, lie still and sleep! It grieves me sore to see thee weep. Wouldst thou be quiet I'se be glad, Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad: Balow my boy, thy mother's joy, Thy father breeds me great annoy-- Balow, la-low!

When he began to court my love, And with his sugred words me move, His faynings false and flattering cheer To me that time did not appear: But now I see most cruellye He cares ne for my babe nor me-- Balow, la-low!

Lie still, my darling, sleep awhile, And when thou wak'st thoo'le sweetly smile: But smile not as thy father did, To cozen maids: nay, God forbid! But yet I fear thou wilt go near Thy father's heart and face to bear-- Balow, la-low!

I cannot choose but ever will Be loving to thy father still; Where'er he go, where'er he ride, My love with him doth still abide; In weal or woe, where'er he go, My heart shall ne'er depart him fro-- Balow, la-low!

But do not, do not, pretty mine, To faynings false thy heart incline! Be loyal to thy lover true, And never change her for a new: If good or fair, of her have care For women's banning 's wondrous sare-- Balow, la-low!

Bairn, by thy face I will beware; Like Sirens' words, I'll come not near; My babe and I together will live; He'll comfort me when cares do grieve. My babe and I right soft will lie, And ne'er respect man's crueltye-- Balow, la-low!

Farewell, farewell, the falsest youth That ever kist a woman's mouth! I wish all maids be warn'd by me Never to trust man's curtesye; For if we do but chance to bow, They'll use us then they care not how-- Balow, la-low!

Anonymous. 16th Cent. (?)

29. The Old Cloak

THIS winter's weather it waxeth cold,
And frost it freezeth on every hill,
And Boreas blows his blast so bold
That all our cattle are like to spill.
Bell, my wife, she loves no strife;
She said unto me quietlye,
Rise up, and save cow Crumbock's life!
Man, put thine old cloak about thee!

He. O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?
Thou kens my cloak is very thin:
It is so bare and over worn,
A cricke thereon cannot renn.
Then I'll no longer borrow nor lend;
For once I'll new apparell'd be;
To-morrow I'll to town and spend;
For I'll have a new cloak about me.

She. Cow Crumbock is a very good cow:
She has been always true to the pail;
She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow,
And other things she will not fail.
I would be loth to see her pine.
Good husband, counsel take of me:
It is not for us to go so fine--
Man, take thine old cloak about thee!

He. My cloak it was a very good cloak,
It hath been always true to the wear;
But now it is not worth a groat:
I have had it four and forty year'.
Sometime it was of cloth in grain:
'Tis now but a sigh clout, as you may see:
It will neither hold out wind nor rain;
And I'll have a new cloak about me.

She. It is four and forty years ago
Sine the one of us the other did ken;
And we have had, betwixt us two,
Of children either nine or ten:
We have brought them up to women and men:
In the fear of God I trow they be.
And why wilt thou thyself misken?
Man, take thine old cloak about thee!

He. O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?
Now is now, and then was then:
Seek now all the world throughout,
Thou kens not clowns from gentlemen:
They are clad in black, green, yellow and blue,
So far above their own degree.
Once in my life I'll take a view;
For I'll have a new cloak about me.

She. King Stephen was a worthy peer;
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
Therefore he called the tailor 'lown.'
He was a king and wore the crown,
And thou'se but of a low degree:
It 's pride that puts this country down:
Man, take thy old cloak about thee!

He. Bell my wife, she loves not strife,
Yet she will lead me, if she can;
And to maintain an easy life
I oft must yield, though I'm good-man.
It 's not for a man with a woman to threap,
Unless he first give o'er the plea:
As we began, so will we keep,
And I'll take my old cloak about me.

flyte] scold. cloth in grain] scarlet cloth. sigh clout] a rag for straining. threap] argue.

John Skelton. 1460?-1529

30. To Mistress Margery Wentworth

WITH margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.
Plainly I cannot glose;
Ye be, as I divine,
The pretty primrose,
The goodly columbine.

Benign, courteous, and meek,
With wordes well devised;
In you, who list to seek,
Be virtues well comprised.
With margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.

margerain] marjoram.

John Skelton. 1460?-1529

31. To Mistress Margaret Hussey

MERRY Margaret
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower:
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
So joyously,
So maidenly,
So womanly
Her demeaning
In every thing,
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write
Of Merry Margaret
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower.
As patient and still
And as full of good will
As fair Isaphill,
Coliander,
Sweet pomander,
Good Cassander;
Steadfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought,
Far may be sought,
Ere that ye can find
So courteous, so kind
As merry Margaret,
This midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower.

Isaphill] Hypsipyle. coliander] coriander seed, an aromatic. pomander] a ball of perfume. Cassander] Cassandra.

Stephen Hawes. d. 1523

32. The True Knight

FOR knighthood is not in the feats of warre,
As for to fight in quarrel right or wrong,
But in a cause which truth can not defarre:
He ought himself for to make sure and strong,
Justice to keep mixt with mercy among:
And no quarrell a knight ought to take
But for a truth, or for the common's sake.

defarre] undo.

Stephen Hawes. d. 1523

33. An Epitaph

O MORTAL folk, you may behold and see
How I lie here, sometime a mighty knight;
The end of joy and all prosperitee
Is death at last, thorough his course and might:
After the day there cometh the dark night,
For though the daye be never so long,
At last the bells ringeth to evensong.

Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542

34. Forget not yet The Lover Beseecheth his Mistress not to Forget his Steadfast Faith and True Intent

FORGET not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant; My great travail so gladly spent, Forget not yet!

Forget not yet when first began The weary life ye know, since whan The suit, the service, none tell can; Forget not yet!

Forget not yet the great assays, The cruel wrong, the scornful ways, The painful patience in delays, Forget not yet!

Forget not! O, forget not this!-- How long ago hath been, and is, The mind that never meant amiss-- Forget not yet!

Forget not then thine own approved, The which so long hath thee so loved, Whose steadfast faith yet never moved: Forget not this!

Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542

35. The Appeal An Earnest Suit to his Unkind Mistress, not to Forsake him

AND wilt thou leave me thus! Say nay, say nay, for shame! --To save thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame. And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath loved thee so long In wealth and woe among: And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath given thee my heart Never for to depart Neither for pain nor smart: And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus, And have no more pitye Of him that loveth thee? Alas, thy cruelty! And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!

grame] sorrow.

Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542

36. A Revocation

WHAT should I say?
--Since Faith is dead,
And Truth away
From you is fled?
Should I be led
With doubleness?
Nay! nay! mistress.

I promised you,
And you promised me,
To be as true
As I would be.
But since I see
Your double heart,
Farewell my part!

Thought for to take
'Tis not my mind;
But to forsake
One so unkind;
And as I find
So will I trust.
Farewell, unjust!

Can ye say nay
But that you said
That I alway
Should be obeyed?
And--thus betrayed
Or that I wist!
Farewell, unkist!

Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542

37. Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus...

THEY flee from me that sometime did me seek, With naked foot stalking within my chamber: Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild, and do not once remember That sometime they have put themselves in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking in continual change.

Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise Twenty times better; but once especial-- In thin array: after a pleasant guise, When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall, And she me caught in her arms long and small, And therewithal so sweetly did me kiss, And softly said, 'Dear heart, how like you this?'

It was no dream; for I lay broad awaking: But all is turn'd now, through my gentleness, Into a bitter fashion of forsaking; And I have leave to go of her goodness; And she also to use new-fangleness. But since that I unkindly so am served, 'How like you this?'--what hath she now deserved?

Sir Thomas Wyatt. 1503-1542

38. To His Lute

MY lute, awake! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is said and past, My lute, be still, for I have done.

As to be heard where ear is none, As lead to grave in marble stone, My song may pierce her heart as soon: Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan? No, no, my lute! for I have done.

The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves continually, As she my suit and affectiòn; So that I am past remedy: Whereby my lute and I have done.

Proud of the spoil that thou hast got Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot, By whom, unkind, thou hast them won; Think not he hath his bow forgot, Although my lute and I have done.

Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain, That makest but game of earnest pain: Trow not alone under the sun Unquit to cause thy lover's plain, Although my lute and I have done.

May chance thee lie wither'd and old The winter nights that are so cold, Plaining in vain unto the moon: Thy wishes then dare not be told: Care then who list! for I have done.

And then may chance thee to repent The time that thou has lost and spent To cause thy lover's sigh and swoon: Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want as I have done.

Now cease, my lute! this is the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And ended is that we begun: Now is this song both sung and past-- My lute, be still, for I have done.

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. 1516-47

39. Description of Spring Wherein each thing renews, save only the Lover

THE soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale: The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes flete with new repaired scale. The adder all her slough away she slings; The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale; The busy bee her honey now she mings; Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.

And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

make] mate. mings] mingles, mixes.

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. 1516-47

40. Complaint of the Absence of Her Lover being upon the Sea

O HAPPY dames! that may embrace The fruit of your delight, Help to bewail the woful case And eke the heavy plight Of me, that wonted to rejoice The fortune of my pleasant choice: Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.

In ship, freight with rememberance Of thoughts and pleasures past, He sails that hath in governance My life while it will last: With scalding sighs, for lack of gale, Furthering his hope, that is his sail, Toward me, the swete port of his avail.

Alas! how oft in dreams I see Those eyes that were my food; Which sometime so delighted me, That yet they do me good: Wherewith I wake with his return Whose absent flame did make me burn: But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn!

When other lovers in arms across Rejoice their chief delight, Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss I stand the bitter night In my window where I may see Before the winds how the clouds flee: Lo! what a mariner love hath made me!

And in green waves when the salt flood Doth rise by rage of wind, A thousand fancies in that mood Assail my restless mind. Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe, That with the spoil of my heart did go, And left me; but alas! why did he so?

And when the seas wax calm again To chase fro me annoy, My doubtful hope doth cause me plain; So dread cuts off my joy. Thus is my wealth mingled with woe And of each thought a doubt doth grow; --Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no.

drencheth] i. e. is drenched or drowned.

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. 1516-47

41. The Means to attain Happy Life

MARTIAL, the things that do attain
The happy life be these, I find:--
The richesse left, not got with pain;
The fruitful ground, the quiet mind;

The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule, nor governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance;

The mean diet, no delicate fare;
True wisdom join'd with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress.

The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night:
Contented with thine own estate
Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.

Nicholas Grimald. 1519-62

42. A True Love

WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see, What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true love is to me! As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed-- As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening's weed-- As mellow pears above the crabs esteemed be-- So doth my love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see! The oak shall olives bear, the lamb the lion fray, The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay, Or I my love let slip out of mine entire heart, So deep reposed in my breast is she for her desart! For many blessed gifts, O happy, happy land! Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand! Yet, land, more is thy bliss that, in this cruel age, A Venus' imp thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage. Among the Muses Nine a tenth if Jove would make, And to the Graces Three a fourth, her would Apollo take. Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold: With her so I may live and die, my weal cannot be told.

fray] affright.

Alexander Scott. 1520?-158-

43. A Bequest of His Heart

HENCE, heart, with her that must depart,
And hald thee with thy soverane!
For I had liever want ane heart,
Nor have the heart that dois me pain.
Therefore, go, with thy love remain,
And let me leif thus unmolest;
And see that thou come not again,
But bide with her thou luvis best.

Sen she that I have servit lang
Is to depart so suddenly,
Address thee now, for thou sall gang
And bear thy lady company.
Fra she be gone, heartless am I,
For quhy? thou art with her possest.
Therefore, my heart, go hence in high,
And bide with her thou luvis best.

Though this belappit body here
Be bound to servitude and thrall,
My faithful heart is free entier
And mind to serve my lady at all.
Would God that I were perigall
Under that redolent rose to rest!
Yet at the least, my heart, thou sall
Abide with her thou luvis best.

Sen in your garth the lily quhyte
May not remain amang the laif,
Adieu the flower of whole delite!
Adieu the succour that may me saif!
Adieu the fragrant balme suaif,
And lamp of ladies lustiest!
My faithful heart she shall it haif
To bide with her it luvis best.

Deploir, ye ladies cleir of hue,
Her absence, sen she must depart!
And, specially, ye luveris true
That wounded bene with Luvis dart.
For some of you sall want ane heart
As well as I; therefore at last
Do go with mine, with mind inwart,
And bide with her thou luvis best!

hald] keep. sen] since. belappit] downtrodden. perigall] made equal to, privileged. garth] garden-close. laif] rest. with mind inwart] with inner mind, i. e. in spirit.

Alexander Scott. 1520?-158-

44. A Rondel of Love

LO, quhat it is to love
Learn ye that list to prove,
By me, I say, that no ways may
The ground of grief remove,
But still decay both nicht and day:
Lo, quhat it is to love!

Love is ane fervent fire
Kindlit without desire,
Short pleasure, long displeasure,
Repentance is the hire;
Ane pure tressour without measour;
Love is ane fervent fire.

To love and to be wise,
To rage with good advice;
Now thus, now than, so gois the game,
Incertain is the dice;
There is no man, I say, that can
Both love and to be wise.

Flee always from the snare,
Learn at me to beware;
It is ane pain, and double trane
Of endless woe and care;
For to refrain that danger plain,
Flee always from the snare.

Robert Wever. c. 1550

45. In Youth is Pleasure

IN a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay, The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day, I dreamed fast of mirth and play: In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Methought I walked still to and fro, And from her company I could not go-- But when I waked it was not so: In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Therefore my hart is surely pyght Of her alone to have a sight Which is my joy and hartes delight: In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Richard Edwardes. 1523-66

46. Amantium Irae

IN going to my naked bed as one that would have slept, I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept; She sighed sore and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest, That would not cease but cried still, in sucking at her breast. She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child, She rocked it and rated it, till that on her it smiled. Then did she say, Now have I found this proverb true to prove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write, In register for to remain of such a worthy wight: As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat, Much matter utter'd she of weight, in place whereas she sat: And proved plain there was no beast, nor creature bearing life, Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife: Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God above, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

She said that neither king nor prince nor lord could live aright, Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood and their might. When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take no place, Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace, And left their force that failed them, which did consume the rout, That might before have lived their time, their strength and nature out: Then did she sing as one that thought no man could her reprove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

She said she saw no fish nor fowl, nor beast within her haunt, That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt: Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed, And force the fight to fall to play in pasture where they feed, So noble nature can well end the work she hath begun, And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some: Thus in song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

I marvel much pardy (quoth she) for to behold the rout, To see man, woman, boy and beast, to toss the world about: Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile, And some embrace others in arm, and there think many a wile, Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and some stout, Yet are they never friends in deed until they once fall out: Thus ended she her song and said, before she did remove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.

George Gascoigne. 1525?-77

47. A Lover's Lullaby

SING lullaby, as women do, Wherewith they bring their babes to rest; And lullaby can I sing too, As womanly as can the best. With lullaby they still the child; And if I be not much beguiled, Full many a wanton babe have I, Which must be still'd with lullaby.

First lullaby my youthful years, It is now time to go to bed: For crooked age and hoary hairs Have won the haven within my head. With lullaby, then, youth be still; With lullaby content thy will; Since courage quails and comes behind, Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind!

Next lullaby my gazing eyes, Which wonted were to glance apace; For every glass may now suffice To show the furrows in thy face. With lullaby then wink awhile; With lullaby your looks beguile; Let no fair face, nor beauty bright, Entice you eft with vain delight.

And lullaby my wanton will; Let reason's rule now reign thy thought; Since all too late I find by skill How dear I have thy fancies bought; With lullaby now take thine ease, With lullaby thy doubts appease; For trust to this, if thou be still, My body shall obey thy will.

Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes, My will, my ware, and all that was: I can no more delays devise; But welcome pain, let pleasure pass. With lullaby now take your leave; With lullaby your dreams deceive; And when you rise with waking eye, Remember then this lullaby.

Alexander Montgomerie. 1540?-1610?

48. The Night is Near Gone

HEY! now the day dawis; The jolly cock crawis; Now shroudis the shawis Thro' Nature anon. The thissel-cock cryis On lovers wha lyis: Now skaillis the skyis; The nicht is neir gone.

The fieldis ouerflowis With gowans that growis, Quhair lilies like low is As red as the rone. The turtle that true is, With notes that renewis, Her pairty pursuis: The nicht is neir gone.

Now hairtis with hindis Conform to their kindis, Hie tursis their tyndis On ground quhair they grone. Now hurchonis, with hairis, Aye passis in pairis; Quhilk duly declaris The nicht is neir gone.

The season excellis Through sweetness that smellis; Now Cupid compellis Our hairtis echone On Venus wha waikis, To muse on our maikis, Syne sing for their saikis-- 'The nicht is neir gone!'

All courageous knichtis Aganis the day dichtis The breist-plate that bright is To fight with their fone. The stoned steed stampis Through courage, and crampis, Syne on the land lampis: The nicht is neir gone.

The freikis on feildis That wight wapins weildis With shyning bright shieldis At Titan in trone; Stiff speiris in reistis Ouer corseris crestis Are broke on their breistis: The nicht is neir gone.

So hard are their hittis, Some sweyis, some sittis, And some perforce flittis On ground quhile they grone. Syne groomis that gay is On blonkis that brayis With swordis assayis:-- The nicht is neir gone.

shroudis] dress themselves. shawis] woods. skaillis] clears. gowans] daisies. low] flame. rone] rowan. pairty] partner, mate. tursis] carry. tyndis] antlers. grone] groan, bell. hurchonis] hedgehogs, 'urchins.' maikis] mates. fone] foes. stoned steed] stallion. crampis] prances. lampis] gallops. freikis] men, warriors. wight wapins] stout weapons. at Titan] over against Titan (the sun), or read 'as.' flittis] are cast. blonkis] white palfreys.

William Stevenson. 1530?-1575

49. Jolly Good Ale and Old

I CANNOT eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I nothing am a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare;
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead;
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I wold;
I am so wrapp'd and thoroughly lapp'd
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.

And Tib, my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek:
Then doth she trowl to me the bowl
Even as a maltworm should,
And saith, 'Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old.'
Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.

Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to;
And all poor souls that have scour'd bowls
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare;
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

Anonymous. 16th Cent. (Scottish)

50. When Flora had O'erfret the Firth

QUHEN Flora had o'erfret the firth
In May of every moneth queen;
Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirth
Sweet melling in the shawis sheen;
Quhen all luvaris rejoicit bene
And most desirous of their prey,
I heard a lusty luvar mene
--'I luve, but I dare nocht assay!'

'Strong are the pains I daily prove,
But yet with patience I sustene,
I am so fetterit with the luve
Only of my lady sheen,
Quhilk for her beauty micht be queen,
Nature so craftily alway
Has done depaint that sweet serene:
--Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay.

'She is so bricht of hyd and hue,
I luve but her alone, I ween;
Is none her luve that may eschew,
That blinkis of that dulce amene;
So comely cleir are her twa een
That she mae luvaris dois affray
Than ever of Greece did fair Helene:
--Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay!'

o'erfret] adorned. shawis] woods. sheen] beautiful. mene] mourn. hyd] skin. blinkis] gets a glimpse. dulce amene] gentle and pleasant one. mae] more.

Anonymous. 16th Cent. (Scottish)

51. Lusty May

O LUSTY May, with Flora queen! The balmy dropis from Phoebus sheen Preluciand beams before the day: By that Diana growis green Through gladness of this lusty May.

Then Esperus, that is so bricht, Til woful hairtis castis his light, With bankis that bloomis on every brae; And schouris are shed forth of their sicht Through gladness of this lusty May.

Birdis on bewis of every birth, Rejoicing notis makand their mirth Richt plesantly upon the spray, With flourishingis o'er field and firth Through gladness of this lusty May.

All luvaris that are in care To their ladies they do repair In fresh morningis before the day, And are in mirth ay mair and mair Through gladness of this lusty May.

sheen] bright. til] into. schouris] showers. bewis] boughs. birth] kind.

Anonymous. 16th Cent. (Scottish)

52. My Heart is High Above

MY heart is high above, my body is full of bliss, For I am set in luve as well as I would wiss I luve my lady pure and she luvis me again, I am her serviture, she is my soverane; She is my very heart, I am her howp and heill, She is my joy invart, I am her luvar leal; I am her bond and thrall, she is at my command; I am perpetual her man, both foot and hand; The thing that may her please my body sall fulfil; Quhatever her disease, it does my body ill. My bird, my bonny ane, my tender babe venust, My luve, my life alane, my liking and my lust! We interchange our hairtis in others armis soft, Spriteless we twa depairtis, usand our luvis oft. We mourn when licht day dawis, we plain the nicht is short, We curse the cock that crawis, that hinderis our disport. I glowffin up aghast, quhen I her miss on nicht, And in my oxter fast I find the bowster richt; Then languor on me lies like Morpheus the mair, Quhilk causes me uprise and to my sweet repair. And then is all the sorrow forth of remembrance That ever I had a-forrow in luvis observance. Thus never I do rest, so lusty a life I lead, Quhen that I list to test the well of womanheid. Luvaris in pain, I pray God send you sic remeid As I have nicht and day, you to defend from deid! Therefore be ever true unto your ladies free, And they will on you rue as mine has done on me.

wiss] wish. heill] health. invart] inward. venust] delightful. glowffin] blink on awaking. oxter] armpit. a-forrow] aforetime.

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1557

53. A Praise of His Lady Tottel's Miscellany ? by John Heywood

GIVE place, you ladies, and begone!
Boast not yourselves at all!
For here at hand approacheth one
Whose face will stain you all.

The virtue of her lively looks
Excels the precious stone;
I wish to have none other books
To read or look upon.

In each of her two crystal eyes
Smileth a naked boy;
It would you all in heart suffice
To see that lamp of joy.

I think Nature hath lost the mould
Where she her shape did take;
Or else I doubt if Nature could
So fair a creature make.

She may be well compared
Unto the Phoenix kind,
Whose like was never seen or heard,
That any man can find.

In life she is Diana chaste,
In troth Penelopey;
In word and eke in deed steadfast.
--What will you more we say?

If all the world were sought so far,
Who could find such a wight?
Her beauty twinkleth like a star
Within the frosty night.

Her rosial colour comes and goes
With such a comely grace,
More ruddier, too, than doth the rose,
Within her lively face.

At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet,
Ne at no wanton play,
Nor gazing in an open street,
Nor gadding as a stray.

The modest mirth that she doth use
Is mix'd with shamefastness;
All vice she doth wholly refuse,
And hateth idleness.

O Lord! it is a world to see
How virtue can repair,
And deck in her such honesty,
Whom Nature made so fair.

Truly she doth so far exceed
Our women nowadays,
As doth the jeliflower a weed;
And more a thousand ways.

How might I do to get a graff
Of this unspotted tree?
--For all the rest are plain but chaff,
Which seem good corn to be.

This gift alone I shall her give;
When death doth what he can,
Her honest fame shall ever live
Within the mouth of man.

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1557

54. To Her Sea-faring Lover Tottel's Miscellany ? by John Heywood

SHALL I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare? And shall I still complain to thee, the which me will not hear? Alas! say nay! say nay! and be no more so dumb, But open thou thy manly mouth and say that thou wilt come: Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee, That thou wilt come--thy word so sware--if thou a live man be. The roaring hugy waves they threaten my poor ghost, And toss thee up and down the seas in danger to be lost. Shall they not make me fear that they have swallowed thee? --But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me. Whereby I shall go see thy ship ride on the strand, And think and say Lo where he comes and Sure here will he land: And then I shall lift up to thee my little hand, And thou shalt think thine heart in ease, in health to see me stand. And if thou come indeed (as Christ thee send to do!) Those arms which miss thee now shall then embrace [and hold] thee too:

Each vein to every joint the lively blood shall spread
Which now for want of thy glad sight doth show full pale and dead.
But if thou slip thy troth, and do not come at all,
As minutes in the clock do strike so call for death I shall:
To please both thy false heart and rid myself from woe,
That rather had to die in troth than live forsaken so!

neare] nearer.

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1589

55. The Faithless Shepherdess William Byrd's Songs of Sundry Natures

WHILE that the sun with his beams hot Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain, Philon the shepherd, late forgot, Sitting beside a crystal fountain In shadow of a green oak tree, Upon his pipe this song play'd he: Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

So long as I was in your sight I was your heart, your soul, your treasure; And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd Burning in flames beyond all measure: --Three days endured your love to me, And it was lost in other three! Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

Another shepherd you did see, To whom your heart was soon enchained; Full soon your love was leapt from me, Full soon my place he had obtained. Soon came a third your love to win, And we were out and he was in. Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

Sure you have made me passing glad That you your mind so soon removed, Before that I the leisure had To choose you for my best beloved: For all my love was pass'd and done Two days before it was begun. Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1599

56. Crabbed Age and Youth The Passionate Pilgrim ? by William Shakespeare

CRABBÈD Age and Youth Cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, Age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, Age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and Age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee; Youth, I do adore thee; O, my Love, my Love is young! Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee! For methinks thou stay'st too long.

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1600

57. Phyllida's Love-Call England's Helicon

Phyllida. CORYDON, arise, my Corydon!
Titan shineth clear.
Corydon. Who is it that calleth Corydon?
Who is it that I hear?
Phyl. Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee,
Arise then, arise then,
Arise and keep thy flock with me!
Cor. Phyllida, my true love, is it she?
I come then, I come then,
I come and keep my flock with thee.

Phyl. Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon;
Eat them for my sake.
Cor. Here 's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,
Sport for thee to make.
Phyl. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk,
To knit thee, to knit thee,
A pair of stockings white as milk.
Cor. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat,
To make thee, to make thee,
A bonnet to withstand the heat.

Phyl. I will gather flowers, my Corydon,
To set in thy cap.
Cor. I will gather pears, my lovely one,
To put in thy lap.
Phyl. I will buy my true love garters gay,
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about his legs so tall.
Cor. I will buy my true love yellow say,
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about her middle small.

Phyl. When my Corydon sits on a hill
Making melody--
Cor. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,
Singing cheerily--
Phyl. Sure methinks my true love doth excel
For sweetness, for sweetness,
Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight.
Cor. And methinks my true love bears the bell
For clearness, for clearness,
Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.

Phyl. Had my Corydon, my Corydon,
Been, alack! her swain--
Cor. Had my lovely one, my lovely one,
Been in Ida plain--
Phyl. Cynthia Endymion had refused,
Preferring, preferring,
My Corydon to play withal.
Cor. The Queen of Love had been excused
Bequeathing, bequeathing,
My Phyllida the golden ball.

Phyl. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon!
Whither shall I fly?
Cor. Under yonder beech, my lovely one,
While she passeth by.
Phyl. Say to her thy true love was not here;
Remember, remember,
To-morrow is another day.
Cor. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear;
Farewell then, farewell then!
Heaven keep our loves alway!

say] soie, silk.

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 1600

58. A Pedlar John Dowland's Second Book of Songs or Airs

FINE knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new,
Good pennyworths--but money cannot move:
I keep a fair but for the Fair to view--
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,
The heart is true.

Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again;
My trifles come as treasures from my mind:
It is a precious jewel to be plain;
Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:--
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!
Of me a grain!

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 16th Cent.

59. Hey nonny no! Christ Church MS.

HEY nonny no! Men are fools that wish to die! Is 't not fine to dance and sing When the bells of death do ring? Is 't not fine to swim in wine, And turn upon the toe, And sing hey nonny no! When the winds blow and the seas flow? Hey nonny no!

Numbers from Elizabethan Miscellanies & Song-books by Unnamed or Uncertain Authors. 16th Cent.

60. Preparations Christ Church MS.

YET if His Majesty, our sovereign lord, Should of his own accord Friendly himself invite, And say 'I'll be your guest to-morrow night,' How should we stir ourselves, call and command All hands to work! 'Let no man idle stand!