Good hospitality Was cherished then of many Now poor men starve and die, And are not helped by any: For charity waxeth cold, And love is found in few; This was not in time of old, When this old cap was new.

Where'er you travelled then, You might meet on the way Brave knights and gentlemen, Clad in their country gray; That courteous would appear, And kindly welcome you; No puritans then were, When this old cap was new.

Our ladies in those days In civil habit went; Broad cloth was then worth praise, And gave the best content: French fashions then were scorned; Fond fangles then none knew; Then modesty women adorned, When this old cap was new.

A man might then behold, At Christmas, in each hall, Good fires to curb the cold, And meat for great and small: The neighbours were friendly bidden, And all had welcome true; The poor from the gates were not chidden When this old cap was new.

Black jacks to every man Were filled with wine and beer; No pewter pot nor can In those days did appear: Good cheer in a n.o.bleman's house Was counted a seemly show; We wanted no brawn nor souse, When this old cap was new.

We took not such delight In cups of silver fine; None under the degree of a knight In plate drank beer or wine: Now each mechanical man Hath a cupboard of plate for a show; Which was a rare thing then, When this old cap was new.

Then bribery was unborn, No simony men did use; Christians did usury scorn, Devised among the Jews.

The lawyers to be fee'd At that time hardly knew; For man with man agreed, When this old cap was new.

No captain then caroused, Nor spent poor soldiers' pay; They were not so abused As they are at this day: Of seven days they make eight, To keep from them their due; Poor soldiers had their right, When this old cap was new.

Which made them forward still To go, although not prest; And going with goodwill, Their fortunes were the best.

Our English then in fight Did foreign foes subdue, And forced them all to flight, When this old cap was new.

G.o.d save our gracious king, And send him long to live: Lord, mischief on them bring That will not their alms give, But seek to rob the poor Of that which is their due: This was not in time of yore, When this old cap was new.

SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR

GEORGE WITHER

Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair?

Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are?

Be she fairer than the day, Or the flow'ry meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be?

Should my heart be griev'd or pin'd 'Cause I see a woman kind?

Or a well-disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature?

Be she meeker, kinder than Turtle-dove or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be?

Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love?

Or her well-deservings, known, Make me quite forget my own?

Be she with that goodness blest Which may gain her name of best, If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be?

'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool and die?

Those that bear a n.o.ble mind, Where they want of riches find.

Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be?

Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair; If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve: If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be?

I LOVED A La.s.s, A FAIR ONE

I lov'd a la.s.s, a fair one, As fair as e'er was seen; She was indeed a rare one, Another Sheba Queen.

But, fool as then I was, I thought she lov'd me too: But now, alas! she's left me, Falero, lero, loo.

Her hair like gold did glister, Each eye was like a star, She did surpa.s.s her sister, Which pa.s.s'd all others far; She would me honey call, She'd, oh--she'd kiss me too: But now, alas! she's left me, Falero, lero, loo.

Many a merry meeting My love and I have had; She was my only sweeting, She made my heart full glad; The tears stood in her eyes, Like to the morning dew: But now, alas! she's left me, Falero, lero, loo.

Her cheeks were like the cherry, Her skin as white as snow; When she was blythe and merry, She angel-like did show; Her waist exceeding small, The fives did fit her shoe: But now, alas! she's left me, Falero, lero, loo.

In summer time or winter She had her heart's desire; I still did scorn to stint her From sugar, sack, or fire; The world went round about, No cares we ever knew: But now, alas! she's left me, Falero, lero, loo.

To maidens' vows and swearing Henceforth no credit give; You may give them the hearing, But never them believe; They are as false as fair, Unconstant, frail, untrue: For mine, alas! hath left me, Falero, lero, loo.

CHRISTMAS

So now is come our joyfullest part; Let every man be jolly; Each room with ivy-leaves is dressed, And every post with holly.

Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry!

Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, And Christmas-blocks are burning; Their ovens they with baked meat choke, And all their spits are turning.

Without the door let sorrow lie; And, if for cold it hap to die, We'll bury it in a Christmas pie And evermore be merry!

Rank misers now do sparing shun; Their hall of music soundeth; And dogs thence with whole shoulders run; So all things there aboundeth.

The country folks themselves advance With crowdy-muttons out of France; And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance, And all the town be merry!

Good farmers in the country nurse The poor that else were undone; Some landlords spend their money worse, On l.u.s.t and pride in London.

There the roysters they do play, Drab and dice their lands away, Which may be ours another day, And therefore let's be merry!

The client now his suit forbears; The prisoner's heart is eased; The debtor drinks away his cares, And for the time is pleased.

Though other's purses be more fat, Why should we pine or grieve at that?

Hang sorrow! care will kill a cat, And therefore let's be merry!

Hark! now the wags abroad do call Each other forth to rambling; Anon you'll see them in the hall, For nuts and apples scrambling.

Hark! how the roofs with laughter sound; Anon they'll think the house goes round, For they the cellar's depth have found, And there they will be merry!

The wenches with their wa.s.sail bowls About the streets are singing; The boys are come to catch the owls; The wild mare in is bringing; Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box; And to the dealing of the ox Our honest neighbours come by flocks, And here they will be merry!

Now kings and queens poor sheep-cots have, And mate with everybody; The honest now may play the knave, And wise men play the noddy.

Some youths will now a-mumming go, Some others play at Rowland-bo, And twenty other game, boys, mo, Because they will be merry!

Then wherefore, in these merry days, Should we, I pray, be duller?

No, let us sing some roundelays To make our mirth the fuller: And, while we thus inspired sing, Let all the streets with echoes ring; Woods, and hills, and everything, Bear witness we are merry!