PHILLIDA AND CORIDON

In the merry month of May, In a morn by break of day, Forth I walked by the wood-side When as May was in his pride: There I spied all alone Phillida and Coridon.

Much ado there was, G.o.d wot!

He would love and she would not.

She said, Never man was true; He said, None was false to you.

He said, He had loved her long; She said, Love should have no wrong.

Coridon would kiss her then; She said, Maids must kiss no men Till they did for good and all; Then she made the shepherd call All the heavens to witness truth Never loved a truer youth.

Thus with many a pretty oath, Yea and nay, and faith and troth, Such as silly shepherds use When they will not Love abuse, Love, which had been long deluded, Was with kisses sweet concluded; And Phillida, with garlands gay, Was made the Lady of the May.

Nicholas Breton [1545?-1626?]

"CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH"

From "The Pa.s.sionate Pilgrim"

Crabbed 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.

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

"IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS La.s.s"

From "As You Like It"

It was a lover and his la.s.s, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pa.s.s, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that life was but a flower In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

And, therefore, take the present time With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

"I LOVED A La.s.s"

I loved 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 loved 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.sed all others far; She would me honey call, She'd--O 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 was white as snow; When she was blithe 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!

George Wither [1588-1667]

TO CHLORIS

Ah, Chloris! that I now could sit As unconcerned as when Your infant beauty could beget No pleasure, nor no pain!

When I the dawn used to admire, And praised the coming day, I little thought the growing fire Must take my rest away.

Your charms in harmless childhood lay Like metals in the mine; Age from no face took more away Than youth concealed in thine.

But as your charms insensibly To their perfection pressed, Fond love as unperceived did fly, And in my bosom rest.

My pa.s.sion with your beauty grew, And Cupid at my heart, Still as his mother favored you, Threw a new flaming dart: Each gloried in their wanton part; To make a lover, he Employed the utmost of his art-- To make a beauty, she.

Charles Sedley [1639?-1701]

SONG

The merchant, to secure his treasure, Conveys it in a borrowed name: Euphelia serves to grace my measure; But Chloe is my real flame.

My softest verse, my darling lyre, Upon Euphelia's toilet lay; When Chloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play.

My lyre I tune, my voice I raise; But with my numbers mix my sighs: And while I sing Euphelia's praise, I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.

Fair Chloe blushed: Euphelia frowned: I sung, and gazed: I played, and trembled: And Venus to the Loves around Remarked, how ill we all dissembled.

Matthew Prior [1664-1721]