CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY :^ornell University Library PR n87.B43 1885 Songs from the dramatists, 3 1924 013 291 459 The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013291459 SONGS THE DRAMAT STS ROBERT BELL NEW YORK WHITE, STOKES, & ALLEN MDCCCLXXXV ADVEETISEMENT. THIS volume oontains a collection of Songs from the EngUsh' Dramatists, beginning with the writer of the first regular comedy, and ending with Sheridan. The want of such a collection has long been felt, and that it has never been supplied before must occasion sur- prise to all readers who are acquainted with the riches we possess in this branch of lyrical poetry. The plan upon which the work is arranged f-urnishes the means of following the course of the drama histori- cally, and tracing in its progress the revolutions of style, manners, and morals that marked successive periods. The songs of each dramatist are distributed under the titles of the plays from which they are taken; and the plays are given in the order of their production. Short biographical notices, and explanatory notes, have been introduced wherever they appeared necessary or desir- able ; but all superfluous annotation has been carefully avoided. The orthography of the early songs has been mod- ernized, in no instance, however, to the loss or injury iv Advertisement. of a phrase essential to the coloring of the age, or the structure of the verse. The old spelling is not sacred; nor can it be always fixed with certainty. It was gen- erally left to the printers, who not only differed from each other, but sometimes from themselves. By adopt- ing a uniform and familiar orthography, the enjoyment of the beauties of these poems, the most perfect of their class in any language, is materially facilitated. In the preparation of this volume, all known acces- sible sources have been explored and exhausted. The research bestowed upon it cannot be adequately esti- mated by its bulk. The labour which is not repre- sented in the ensuing pages considerably exceeded the labour which has borne the fruit and flowers gathered into this little book. Many hundreds of plays have been examined without yielding any results, or such only as in their nature were unavailable. Some names will be missed from the catalogue of dramatic writers, and others wiU be found to contribute less than might be looked for from their celebrity ; but in all such cases a satisfactory explanation can be given. Marlowe's plays, for example, do not contain a single song, and Greene's only one. Southeme abounds in songs, but they are furnished chiefly by other writers, and are of the most commonplace character. Etherege has several broken snatches of drinking rhymes and choruses dan- cing through his comedies, full of riotous animal spirits soaring to the height of all manner of extrava- gance, and admirably suited to ventilate the profligacy of the day; but for the most part they are either unfit for extract from their coarseness, or have not substance Advertisement. v enough to stand alone. Wyoherley's songs are simply gross, and Tom Killigrew's crude and artificial. On the other hand, some things will be found here that might not have been anticipated. A few plays with nothing else in them worth preservation have supplied an excellent song; and others that had long been consigned to oblivion by their dulness or de- pravity, have Tm.expeetedly thrown up an occasional stajiza of permanent value. The superiority in all qualities of sweetness, thought- fulness, and purity of the writers of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century over their successors is strikingly exhibited in these productions. The dramatic songs of the age of Elizabeth and James I. are distinguished as much by their delicacy and chastity of feeling, as by their vigour and beauty. The change that took place under Charles It. was sudden and com- plete. With the Kestoration, love disappears, and sensuousness takes its place. Voluptuous without taste or sentiment, the songs of that period may be said to dissect in broad daylight the life of the town, laying bare with revolting shamelessness the tissues of its most secret vices. But as this species of morbid anatomy required some variation to relieve its same- ness, the song sometimes transported the libertinism into the country, and through the medium of a sort of Covent-garden pastoral exhibited the fashionable delinquencies in a masquerade of Strephons and Chlo- rises, no better than the CourtaUs and Loveits of the comedies. The costume of innocence gave increased zest to the dissolute wit, and the audiences seem to vi Advertisement. have 1)6611 delighted with the representation of their own Uoentiousness in the transparent disguise of ver- dant images, and the affectation of niial simplicity. It helped them to a spurious ideal, which rarely, however, lasted out to the end of the verse. The sub- sequent decline of the drama is sensibly felt in the degeneracy of its lyrics. The interval, from the end of the seventeenth century to the close of the eight- eenth, presents a multitude of songs, chiefly, however, in operas which do not come strictly within the Iplan of this volume; but, with a few solitary exceptions, they are trivial, monotonous, and conventional. The brilliant genius of Sheridan alone shines out with con- spicuous lustre, and terminates the series with a gaiety and freshness that may be regarded as a revival of the spirit with which it opens. K. B. CONTENTS. ADVERTISEMENT, NICHOLAS ITDALL. PAGE RA.LPH EOISTBE DOISTEE 15 JOHN HBYWOOD. The Plat of Lote 23 JOHN STILL. Oammee GnuTON's Needle 33 JOHN EEDPOED. THE Plat OF WIT AND SCIENCE 38 THOMAS INGELEND. The Disobedient Child 40 anthony munday. JOHN A Kent and John aCumbee 43 LEWIS WAGEB. THE Life and Bepestance of Maet Magdalen 45 WILLIAM WAGEB. THE LONGEB THOU LIVE8T THE MORE POOL THOD ART 46 JOHN LYLY. ALEXANDER AND CAMPASPE 60 SAPPHO AND PHAON 51 ENDYMION 62 GALATHEA 53 MIDAS 54 MOTHER BOMBIE 56 GBOBGB PEELE. THE ABRAIGHMENT OF PARIS 58 POLYHYMNIA 60 THE HUNTING OFCUPID 61 the old wife's tale 62 David and Bethsabb 63 viii Contents. FAGE KOBEBT GKEENE. LOOKIMG-GLABS FOlt LONDON AHD BHGLAHI) 66 THOMAS NASH. SUMMBU'B LAST WILL AHD TESTAMENT 68 SAMUEL DANIEL. CLEOPATRA 73 DABBIDGECOURT BELCHIEH. Hans Beeb-pot, his invisibus combut of See me and see Me not 76 SHAKBSPEAKE. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEBONA 77 LOVE'S Lab6ub LOST 78 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 82 A MmsUMMEK NIGHT'S DREAM 82 mkbchant of venice 85 Much ado about nothing 87 meber wives of windsor 88 TWELFTH night 88 As YOU LIKE IT 90 Meabube FOEMEASUKE 95 A WlNTEtt'8 TALE 96 THE TEMPEST 98 King Hknby IV. Part II 100 king Henry V. 101 King Hbmet VIII 101 HAMLET - 102 CTMBELDiE 104 Othello 105 KING Leab 106 MACBEIH 107 TmON OF ATHENS 108 Tboilus and Ceessida 109 antony and cleopatra 109 BEN JONSON. CYNTHIA'S BEVELS 110 THE POETASTBK 112 VOLPONBj OB, THE POX 114 The queen's Masque 115 £F1C(ENE; OB, THE SILENT WOMAN IIG Contents. ix PAGIS BARTHOLOMEW FAIU 117 Ths nbw Imtj OK, The ught Heaet 120 The aiD Shephebd; ob, A Tale of Eobin HOod 120 The Fokbst .-. 121 francis beaumont and john fletcher. THE Maid's Tragedy 122 THE Elder Brother 122 THE Spasish Curate 123 WIT without Money 125 beggar's bubh 125 The Humorous Lieutenant 126 The Faithful Shepherdess 126 THE Mad lover 137 The Lotal Subject 139 THE fai.se One 140 The Little French Lawyer 142 the Tragedy op Valentihian 142 Monsieur Thomas 143 THE Chances 144 The Bloody Brother; or, Rollo, Duke op Normandy 145 A Wife fob a Month 148 The lover's Progress 149 THE Pilgrim 149 THE Captain 150 THE Queen of Cordjth 162 THE Knight op the burning Pestle 152 THE MAID IN THE MILL 156 WOMEN PLEASED 166 Cupm'B Revenge 167 The two noble Kinsmen 159 The woman-hater 160 THE Nice Valour; or, the Passionate Madman 161 THOMAS MIDDLETON. BLURT, MASTER CONSTABLE : OR, THE SPANIARD'S NIGHT-WALK 165 A MAD WORLD, MY MASTERS 167 THE wrrcH 168 MORE DISSEMBLERS BESIDES WOMEN 170 A CHASTE Maid in Cheafside 171 THOMAS MIDDLETON AND WILLIAM ROWLEY. THE SPANISH Gipsy 171 la X Contents. PAGE ben jonson, rlbtcher, and middlkton. The Widow 176 THOMAS DBKKEB. Old Fohtuhatus 177 T. DEKKER AND U. WILSON. The shoemaker's houdat; or, The Gentle Craft 178 thomas dbkkes, henby ohettle, and william HAtTGHTON. The Pleasant Oomedt op Patient Grissbll 180 JOHN WEBSTER. The White Devil; or, Victoria Coeombona 182 The Duchess of Malfy 183 JOHN WEBSTJEB and WILLIAM ROWLEY. The Thbaciah Wonder 184 samuel rowley. THE NOBLE Spanish soldier 189 THOMAS GOFPE. Orestes 190 The Careless Shepherdess 191 chettle and monday, the death of robert, earl op huntingdon 192 thomas heywood. the rape of lucrece 195 love's mistress; or, the queen's masque 197 pikst part of king edward iv 198 THE Silver AGE 198 THE Pair Maid of the exchange 198 A Challenge for Beauty 199 The Golden age 201 PHILIP MASSINGEH. The picture 202 The emperor of the East 203 the guardian 203 john pord. the sun's darling 206 The lover's Melancholy 209 Contents. xi PAGE THE BKOKEH HKAUT 209 THE X,Ai)r'B Trial 211 SIR JOHN SUCKLING. AGLiUOA 212 Bkejjnoealt 213 The Goblins 214 The Sau one 214 AVILLIAM CABTWEIGHT. The Oudisakt 215 PHINEAS TTLETCHEE. The siceudes 216 william habington. the queen of aekagon 218 bartbn holiday. tessotasna ; ok, the maekiage of the aets 220 james shirley. love teicks 222 The ■WITTY FAIR One 223 The bied IN A Cage 223 THE TRIU5IPH OF PEACE 224 St. PATRICK FOE IRELAND 225 THE ARCADIA 225 CUPm AND DEATH 226 THE CONTENTION OF AJAX AND TJLYBSES 227 SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. THE Siege of Rhodes 228 The Unfortunate lovers 229 The law against Lovers 231 The Man's the Master 232 THE Cruel Brother 233 GERVASE MARKHAM and WILLIAM SAMPSON. Herod And Antipater 234 JASPER MAYNE. The City match 235 SIR SAMUEL TUKE. The Adventures op Two Hours 236 xii Contents. PAGE SIK WILLIAM KILLIGKEW. SELINUBA 236 john dhyden. the ikdian queen 239 The indiaji Empekou 240 SECRET LOVE; OB, The Maiden Queen 240 SIB MABTIN MAB-ALL; OB, THE FEIGNED INNOCENCE 241 TTBAHNIC LOVE; OB, THE ROYAL MaETYB 242 AMUOYNA 243 ALBION AND ALBANU8 244 KING Arthuej oe, The British 'Woetht 244 Cleomenes; OB, The Spabtan Heeo 245 love Tbhmphant; ob. Nature will pbevail 246 the Seculae Masque 247 SIS GBOBGB ETHEKEGE. love in a Tub 247 THOMAS SHADWELL. The woman Captain 248 THE amorous bigot 248 IIMON OF ATHENS 249 SIK CHABLES SEDLEY. THE MULBERRY GARDEN 249 TOM D'UarEY. THE COMICAL HISTORY OF DON QUIXOTE 261 THE MODERN PROPHETS; OE, NF,W WIT FOR A HUSBAND 261 SIB JOHN VANBRTJGH. The Belapbe; ob, Vibtue in Danoeb 262 the provoked wife 263 ^BOP 253 WILLIAM CONGREVE. LOVE FOB LOVE 264 THE Way OP THE WORLD 265 GEORGE PABQUHAR. LOVE AND A BOTTLE 266 THE Twins 267 RICHARD BBINSLEY SHEBIDAN. THE DUENNA 257 THE SCHOOL FOB SCANDAL 259 SOliGS FROM THE DRAMATISTS. NICHOLAS UDALL. 1506—1556. Nicholas Udall, descended from Peter Lord TJvodale and Nicholas Udall, constable of Wmehester Castle in the reign of Edward IH.,' was bom in Hampshire in 1505 or 1506, admitted scholar of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, 1520, and became probationary fellow 1524, but did not obtain his master's degree for ten years afterwards, in con- sequence of his known attachment to the doctrines of Luther. His first literary work was a pageant in Latin and English, exhibited by the mayor and citizens of Lon- don, to celebrate the entrance of Anne Bullen into the city after her marriage. This was written in 1532, in con- junction with Leland, the antiquary, with whom he had formed a friendship at Oxford. In 1534, having acquired a high reputation for scholarship, he was appointed head master of Eton. His severity in this capacity rendered him odious to the pupils, and has been specially record- ed by Tusser, who says that TJdall inflicted fifty-three stripes upon him 'for fault but small, or none at all.'^ Udall continued at Eton till 1541, when he was brought before the council at Westminster, on a charge of having been concerned with two of the scholars and a servant 1 CommTuiicated to the Gentle- ing collections for his edition of ma7i'« JMaffaziTie, V. Ixxx., p. n. by Tusser. Kobert Uvedale, In reply to the 2 See the poetical life added by inquiries of Dr. Mavor, then mak- Tusser to his poems. 14 Songs from the Dramatists. of his own in a robbery of silver images and plate which had taken place at the college. There seems to be little doubt of his guilty knowledge of the transaction, if not of actual complicity in the theft, for he was dismissed from the mastership, and applied in vain to be restored. No further proceedings, however, were taken against him. From this time he devoted himself to literature, and took a leading part in the discussions against Popery. His great learning, and the services he rendered to religion by his controversial writings and his eloquence in the pulpit, were rewarded by his presentation to a stall at Windsor in 1551, and his nomination to the parsonage of Calborne, in the Isle of Wight, two years afterwards. These preferments in the church were not considered inconsistent with the encour- agement of his skill as a dramatic writer ; and in 1553 and 1554 he was ordered to prepare an entertainment for the feast of the coronation of Queen Mary, — Dialogues and Interludes to be performed at court. About this time he was appointed head master of Westminster school, which he held till 1556, when the monastery was re-established in the November of that year. He died in the following month, and was buried at St. Margaret's.^ It had long been supposed that Gammer GwrtorCa Needle was the first regular English comedy. This supposition rested on the authority of Wright, the author of the Sistoria Histrionica. But the discovery, in 1818, of a copy of JSalph Boister Bolster, printed in 1566 (curiously enough the year in which Gammer Gorton's Needle was acted), transferred the precedence to Nicholas ITdall. At what time TJdall wrote this play is not known. The earliest reference to it occurs in Wilson's MuJc of Iteason, printed in 1551. From a contemporary allusion in the play to a certain ballad- maker, also alluded to by Skelton, who died in 1533, Mr. Collier conjectures that the comedy was a youthful pro- 1 These pai-ticiUars .ire chiefly spearo Societr^, from the unique cloiivbd from Mr. W. Durrant copy in Eton College. The memoir Cooper's careful memoir prefixed may he consultert for a furtlier to the edition of Salph Moiater account of Uitaira workBi XXdster, reprinted by the Shake- Nicholas JJdall. 15 duetion.i This is extremely probable ; although the evidence is not decisive, as the ballad-maker alluded to might have survived, and maintained his notoriety many years after the death of Skelton. However that may be, the claim of this comedy to be considered the first in our language is indis- putable. It must have preceded Gammer Gurton's Needle by at least fifteen years ; and, being at that period so well known as to be quoted by Wilson, we may reasonably assign it to a much earlier date. The comedy is written in rhyme, and divided into acts and scenes. The action takes place in London, and the plot, constructed with a surprising knowledge of stage art, affords ample opportunity for the development of a variety of characters. The copy discovered in 1818 wants the title- page, but is presumed to have borne the date of 1566, as in that year Thomas Hackett had a license to print it. In 1 8 1 8 a limited reprint was made by the Eev. Mr. Briggs, who deposited the original in the library of Eton College. ' There was a singular propriety,' observes Mr. Collier, 'in pre- senting it to Eton College, as TJdall had been master of the school ; * a circumstance which was entirely fortuitous, Mr. Briggs not being acquainted even with the name of the author. It was reprinted in 1821 and 1830, and lastly by the Shakespeare Society in 1847. Sdaliil) a&aistec Soister. THE WOKK-GIKLS' SONG.^ PIPE, merry Annot; Trilla, Trilla, TriUarie. Work, Tibet; work, Annot; work, Margerie; Sew, Tibet; knit, Annot; spin, Margerie; Let us see wbo will win. the victory. 1 IHs. Bn. Brmn. Poetry, ii. 246. 2 To make this lively round in- flowing girls, who are Tariously telligiWe, the reader Bhoulrt De in- employed, as inflioated in the first formed tliat it is sung by three stanza. The stage directions at 16 Songs from the Dramatists. Pipe, merry Aunot; TriUa, Trilla, Trillarie. What, Tibet ! -what, Annot ! what, Margerie ! Ye sleep, but we do not, that shall we try; Tour fingers be niunb, our work wiU not lie. Pipe, merry Annot ; Trilla, Trilla, Trillarie. Now Tibet, now Annot, now Margerie; Now whippet apace for the maystrie:' But it win not be, our mouth is so dry. Pipe, merry Annot; Trilla, Trilla, Trillarie. When, Tibet ? when, Annot ? when, Margerie ? I win not, — I can not, — ^no more can I ; Then give we aU. over, and there let it lie ! THE SEWmO-MEN'S SONG. A THING very fit For them that have wit, And are fellows knit, Servants va. one house to be; As fast for to sit And not oft to flit. Nor vary a whit. But lovingly to agree. the opening of tbe scene describe clatter, In which they are Joined by their several oconpationa : ' Madge the hair-brained Soiater SoUter, Jlfumblecru^C spinning on the distaff they agree to sing a song; to be- — Tibet Talkative sawing— Annot gnile the time and help them on AVyfaee knitting.' After some Idle in their work. Annot. Let all these matters pass, and we three sing a song ; So shall we pleasantly both the time begnile now. And eke dispatch all our work, ere we can tell how. Tibet. I shrew them that say nay, and that shall not be I. Madge. And I am well content. Tibet. Sing on then by and by. 1 Mastery, superior skill. Nicholas TJdall. 17 No man complaining, Nor other disdaining, For loss or for gaining. But fellows or friends to be ; No grudge remaining, No work refraining, Nor help restraining, But lovingly to agree. No man for despite, By word or by write. His fellow to twite, But further in honesty; No good turns entwite,' Nor old sores recite, But let aU go quite, And lovingly to agree. After drudgery. When they be weary, Then to be merry, To laugh and sing they be free ; With chip and cherie. Heigh derie derie, Trill on the berie, And lovingly to agree. THE MINION WIFE. 7TTH0 so to many a minion ^ wife, vW Hath had good chance and hap, Must love her and cherish her all his life. And dandle her in his lap. If she will fare well, if she wiH go gay, A good husband ever still, What ever she list to do or to say. Must let her have her own wiQ. Twite, entwite— to twit, to reproach. 2 Pet or darling. 18 Songs from the Dramatists. About what affairs so ever he go. He must shew her all his miiid, None of his counsel she may be kept fro, Else is he a man iinldnd. I MUN BE MARRIED A SUNDAY. IMUN be married a Simday ; I mun be married a Sunday; Who soever shall come that way, I mun be married a Sunday. Roister Bolster is my name ; Roister Bolster is my name ; A lusty brute I am the same ; I mim be married a Sunday. Christian Custance have I found ; Christian Custance have I found ; A widow worth a thousand pound I mun be married a Sunday. Custance is as sweet as honey ; Custance is as sweet as honey ; I her lamb, and she my coney ; I mun be married a Simday. When we shall make our wedding feast, When we shall make our wedding feast. There shall be cheer for man and beast, I mun be married a Sunday. I mun be married a Sunday, i 1 The loUowliig passage oconra in tlie Taming of the Shrew :— We will liave rings, and things, and fine array ; And kiss me, Kate, we will be jnarried o' Swnday. Act ii, So. 1. The concluding words, prohahly BaJph Roister Bolster's song, which intended to he sung with a line air we may, therefore, infer to have of hanter and hravery by Petrnchio been one of the popular ballads in as he goes off the stage, are evi- Shakespeare's time, dently taken from the burthen of John Heywood. 19 THE PSAIiMODIE FOR THE REJECTED LOVER. mAISTER Roister Bolster will straight go home and die, Our Lord Jesus Christ his soul have mercy upon : Thus you see to day a man, to morrow John. Yet, saving for a woman's extreme cruelty, He might have liv^d yet a month, or two, or three ; But, in spite of Custanoe, which hath him wearied, His mashyp shall be worshipfully buried. And while some piece of his soul is yet him withia, Some part of his funeral let us here begin. Dkige. He will go darkhng to his g^ave ; Neque lux, negue crux, nisi solwm clink ; Never genman so went toward heaven, I think. Yet, sirs, as ye will the bhss of heaven win. When he cometh to the grave, lay him softly in ; And all men take heed, by this one gentleman. How you set your love upon an unkind woman ; For these women be aU such mad peevish elves, They will not be won, except it please themselves. But, in faith, Custance, if ever ye come in heU, Maister Roister Bolster shall serve you as well. Good night, Roger old knave; Farewell, Roger old knave ; Good night, Roger old knave ; knave knap. Nequando, Audmi vocem. Beqmem teternam. [A peal of bells rivng by the Parish Clerk and Boister Bolster's fomr 'men. JOHN HEYWOOD. 157-. JoHK Heywood's claims to a prominent place amongst the dramatists are not very considerable. His productions iu this way are neither ntmieroiis nor important. They can 20 Songs from the Dramatists. scarcely be called plays, in the higher sense of the term, and are more accurately described by the designation usually applied to them of Interludes, having few characters and scarcely any plot, and eonsisting entirely of uninterrupted dialogue, without an attempt at action or structural design. They may be said to represent the transition from the Mo- ralities to the regular drama ; and in this point of view they possess a special interest. The date of Heywood's birth is not known, nor has the place been ascertained with certainty. According to Bale and Wood, he was bom in the city of London, and received his education in the University of Oxford, at the ancient hostel of Broadgate, in St. Aldgate's parish. Other vrriters assert that he was bom at North Mimms, near St. Alban's, Hertfordshire, where the family had some property, and at which place he lived after he left college ; while a MS. in the possession of the Earl of EUesmere describes him as a native of Xent. Heywood had no inclination for the life of a student. His tastes lay in music, good fellowship, and ' mad, merry wit ; ' and, as he tells us in one of his epigrams, he applied himself to ' mirth more than thrift.' That he profited little by his residence at Oxford may be inferred from an observation made by Puttenham, who ascribes the favour in which he stood at Court to his ' mirth and quickness of conceit more than any good learning that was in him.' In Hertfordshire he became acquainted with Sir Thomas More, who lived in the neighbourhood, and who was so well pleased with his aptness for jest and repartee, qualities in much request at that period with the reigning monarch, that he not only introduced him to Henry ViU.., but is said to have assisted liim in composition of his epigrams. He became a great favourite with the king, who appears, from the Book of Pay- ments, to have taken liiTn into his service as a player on the virginal ; and gratuities from both the princesses are to be found amongst the items of the royal expenditure. In addi- tion to his wit and his music, he appears also to have had John Heywood. 21 some talent as an actor, and to have presented an interlude at conrt (written no doubt by himself), played, according to the fashion then prevalent, by children. Heywood was a staunch Roman Catholic, a circumstance to which, we may presiime, he was mainly indebted for the particular favours bestowed upon him by the Princess Mary, who admitted him to the most intimate conversation during the time of Henry \U1. and the succeeding reign ; and conferred a distin- guished mark of her patronage upon him when she came to the throne, by appointing him to address her in a Latin and English oration on her procession through the city to West- minster the day before her coronation. These were the palmy days of Heywood's career. The queen was so great an admirer of his hmnorous talents that she constantly sent for him to beguile the hours of illness, and is said to have sought relief from pain in his diverting stories even when she was languishing on her death-bed. ' His stories,' observes Chalmers, 'must have been diverting, indeed, if they soothed the recollections of such a woman.' Upon the death of Queen Mary he suffered the reverse which attended most of her personal adherents. The Prot- estant religion was now in the ascendancy, and Heywood had been so eonspienons a follower of the late sovereign, that he either could not endure to live under the rule of her successor, or was apprehensive that his safety would be jeop- ardized if he remained in England. He accordingly left the Mngdom, and settled at Mechlin, in Belgium, where Wood informs ns he died in 1565. The EUesmere MS., however, says that he was still living in 1576. He left two sons, Ellis and Jasper, who both became Jesuits, and were eminent for their learning. In private life Heywood was a humorist and a jovial com- panion. The same character pervades his writings, which derived their popularity in his own time mainly from his social talents and his position at court. He began to write about I5SO; and his interludes, with one exception, were 22 Songs from the Dramatists. published in 1533.1 His parable upon Queen Mary, called The Spider and the Fly, appeared in 1556, and his epigrams, by which he is best known to modern readers, in 1576. The Flay of Love, from which the following song is extracted, afEords a fair sample of his dramatic system. The characters are mere abstractions — a Lover loving and not loved, a Woman loved and not loving, and a Vice who neither loves nor is loved. The dialogue draws out these metaphysical entities into a discourse which much more nearly resembles the application of the exhausting process to a very dull argument than the development of a passion. In the song taken from this play, Heywood adopts the vein of Skelton, who died in 1529, and who was not, as has been stated, one of his contemporaries. Heywood rarely displayed much tenderness of feeling, or an instinct of the beautiful; but more of these qualities will be found in this song, and in his verses on the Princess Mary, 2 than might be expected from the general character of his writings. 1 For an account of these inter- Tottel's version ■will be found com- ludes the reader may be referred to plete amongst the specimens of Mr. Fairholt's excellent introduo- minor poets contemporaneous witli tion to Heywood'B Dialogue on Wit Surrey, in tlie volume of Surrey's and FoWy, printed by the Percy Poems, Ann. Ed. p. 237. It is there Society, from the original MS. in inserted, as it had been previously the British Museum. copied by Ellis, amongst the ' Un- 2 Harleian MS., No. 1703. This certain Authors,' and a conjecture poem, entitled A Description of a hazarded from internal evidence mo8t Noble Lady, was printed in that it might have been -written by Park's edition of Walpole's .Boa«Z George Boleyn. There is no doubt, and Nohle Authors, and a modem- ho-wever, that the poem in tlio izcd copy of it is given in Evans's Harleian MS. was written by Hey. OZ(2.BallflMte;anothorand a different wood, and that the share whii^li version, in which some stanzas are the ' uncertain author,' whoever omitted, and others altered, was he may have been, had in Tottel's published in Tottel's Miscellany, version, consisted in imparting amongst the contributions of ' Un- certain reflnements to the original, certain Authors,' and quoted in by wliich the sweetness and beauty that form (with the exception of a of the expression are much height- single verse) in EUls's SpeciTtiens. ened, ■ ..^ John Heywood. 23 m PEAISE OF HIS LADT. TT ND to begin -**■ At setting in : First was lier skin White, smooth and thin, And every vein So blue seen plain ; Her golden hair To see her wear. Her wearing gear, Alas ! I fear To tell aU to you, I shall undo you. Her eye so rolling Each heart controlling ; Her nose not long. Her stode not wrong : Her finger tips So clean she chps j Her rosy lips, Her cheeks gossips So fair, so ruddy. It axeth study The whole to tell ; It did excel. It was so made That even the shade At every glade Would hearts invade : The paps small, And round withal ; 24 Songs from (he Dramatists. The waist not mickle, But it was ticMe : ^ The thigh, the knee, As they should be ; But such a leg, A lover would beg To set eye on, But it is gone : Then, sight of the foot Eift hearts to the root. The four songs that follow are derived from another source. There is no evidenee to show that they were writ- ten for the stage, although it is not improbable that some of them might have been sung in the interludes. Whether such a supposition may be considered sufficient to justify their insertion in this collection, I will not pretend to deter- mine; but the reader who takes an interest in our early ballads will discover an ample reason for their introduction in the broad light they throw upon the lyrical poetry of the sixteenth century, and especially upon the peculiar style and manner of Heywood. These four songs, together with many others, are con- tained in the same MS. with Bedford's play of Wit and Science, which belonged to the late Mr. Bright, and was printed in 1848 by the Shakespeare Society, imder the discriminating editorship of Mr. HalliweU. ' The collection of songs by John Heywood and others,' observes Mr. HaUi- well, ' is of considerable interest to the poetical antiquary ; some are remarkably curious, and all of them belong to a period at which the reUques of that class of composition are exceedingly rare, and difficult to be met with.' The collection contains eight songs by Heywood. The four here selected are intrinsically the best, and the most characteristic of the manner of the writer. 1 In the senae of exciting. Tyckyll er was nncertain weather. Hence also meant unsteady, uncertain, the moclern phrase tic/clifiA — aticlc- (lonbtful. A thins was tickle that li^h case, a doubtful case, did not stand firmly— tickle weath- John Heywood. 25 TEE SONG OP THE OEEBN WILLOW.l TT LL a green wiUow, mlloTr, ■^*- AH a green willow is my j is my garland. Alas ! by what means may I make ye to know The unMndness for kindness that to me doth grow ? That one who most Mad love on me should bestow, Most unkind unldndness to me she doth show, For aU a green willow is my garland ! To have love and hold love, where love is so sped, Oh ! delicate food to the lover so fed ! From love won to love lost where lovers be led. Oh ! desperate dolor, the lover is dead ! For aU a green willow is his garland ! She said she did love me, and would love me still, She swore above aU men I had her good will ; She said and she swore she would my wiU fulfil ; The promise all good, the performance all ill ; For aU a green willow is my garland ! 1 The 'ballad, of whicli a fragment of Heywood's song extant. It ia is enng by Besdemona, (Ot7iello,AGt extractedfrom an anonymonsproae iv. Scene ili.), derives its bnrtlien comedy, called Sir Oyles Qooae- from this song, which Mr. HaJUweU cappe, presented hy the children observes is, perhaps, the oldest in of the chapel, and printed in 1606. onr langnage with the vrillow hur- The canto winds up the piece, and then. There are many other songs the allusion to the willow bears with the same refrain of a later upon a boasting Captain who ia left date. The following verse, or canto, without a bride in the end. Is probably the earliest imitation WiUow, willow, willow. Our ca^itaan goea down: Willow, willow, willow. His valour doth crown. The rest with rosemary we grace, O Hymen, light thy light, With richest rays gild every face, And feast hearts with delight. Willow, willow, willow. We chaunt to the skies : And with black and yellow. Give courtship the pilze. 26 Songs from the Dramatists. Now, woe -witih the willow, and woe with the wight That windeth willow, willow garland to dight ! That dole dealt in alLtnysi is all amiss qnite ! Where lovers are heggars for allmys in sight, No lover doth beg for this willow garland ! Of this willow garland the burden seems small. But my break-neck burden I may it well call ; Like the sow of lead on my head it doth fall ! Break head, and break neck, back, bones, brain, heart All parts pressed in pieces ! [and all ; Too ill for her fbink I best things may be had. Too good for me thinketh she things beiag most bad. All I do present her that may make her glad. All she doth present me that may make me sad ; This equity have I with this willow garland ! Could I forget thee, as thou canst forget me. That were my sound fault, which cannot nor shall be ; Though thou, like the soaring hawk, every way flee, I will be the turtle stiU steadfast to thee, And patiently wear this willow garland ! AH ye that have had love, and have my like wrong, My like truth and patience plant stiU ye among ; When feminine fancies for new love do long, Old love cannot hold them, new love is so strong. For all. BE MERBT, FRIENDS. ' BE merry, friends, take ye no thought, For worldly cares care ye right nought ; 1 Tlie allmys-disb, or ftlms-diali, Tersion of tills song, token from a was the dlsli in tlie old halls and broadside printed soon after 1600. conntry houses where bread was It contains some additional stan- placed for the poor. zas, which I have inserted in brack- 2 In the collection called A Boole ets to distingolsh them from the of Boxbwrghe SaUade, edited by version given by Mr. EaUiwell. Mr. Collier, there is a modernized John, Heywood. 27 For wlioso doth, when all is sought, Shall find that ttiought availeth nought ; Be merry, friends ! AU saeh as have all wealth at will, Their wills at wUl for to fulfil, From grief or grudge or any iU I need not sing this them until. Be merry, friends ! But imto such as wish and want Of worldly wealth wrought them so scant, That wealth by work they cannot plant, To them I siag at this instant. Be merry, friends ! And such as when the rest seem next. Then they be straight extremely vexed ; And such as be in storms perplexed, To them I sing this short sweet text, Be merry, friends! To laugh and win each man agrees. But each man cannot laugh and lose. Yet laughing in the last of those Hath been allowed of sage decrees; Be merry, friends! Be merry with sorrow, wise men have said. Which saying, being wisely weighed. It seems a lesson truly laid For those whom sorrows still iuvade. Be merry, friends ! Make ye not two sorrows of one. For of one grief grafted alone To graft a sorrow thereupon, A sourer crab we can graft none ; Be merry, friends ! 28 Songs from the Dramattsts. Taking our sorrows sorrowfully, Sorrow augmenteth our malady ; Taking our sorrows merrily, Mirth salvetli sorrows most soundly ; Be merry, friends! Of griefs to come standing in fray. Provide defence the best we may ; WMch done, no more to do or say. Come what come shall, come care away ! Be merry, friends ! In such things as we cannot flee. But needs they must endured be, Let wise contentment be decree Make virtue of necessity ; Be merry, friends ! To lack or lose that we would win. So that our fault be not therein. What woe or want, end or begin. Take never sorrow but for sin ! Be merry, friends ! In loss of friends, in lack of health, In loss of goods, in lack of wealth. Where liberty restraint expeUeth, Where aU these lack, yet as this telleth, Be merry, friends !' Man hardly hath a richer thing Than honest mirth, the which weU-spring Watereth the roots of rejoicing. Feeding the flowers of flourishing j Be merry, friends ! ' 1 In the Roiburglie copy this verse la thus modernized :— If friends he lost, then get thee more ; If wealth he lost, thou still hast store — The merry man Is never poor. He lives upon the world ; therefore. Be merry, friends 1 2 This verse Is omitted in the Boxburghe copy. John Heywood. 29 [The loss of wealth is loss of dirt, As sages in aU times assert ; The happy man's without a shirt, And never comes to maim or hurt. Be merry, friends ! All seasons are to hiTn the spring, In flowers bright and flourishing ; With birds upon the tree or wing, "Who iu their fashion always sing Be merry, friends ! If that thy doublet has a hole in, Why, it cannot keep the less thy soul in, Which rangeth forth beyond controlling Whilst thou hast nought to do but trolling Be merry, friends !] Be merry in God, saint Paul saith plain. And yet, saith he, be merry again ; Since whose advice is not in vain, The fact thereof to entertain. Be merry, friends ! [Let the world shde, let the world go : A flg for care, and a flg for woe! If I can't pay, why I can owe, And death makes equal the high and low. Be merry, friends !] yyVHAT heart can think, or tongue express, ^J-' The hairm that groweth of idleness ? This idleness in some of us Is seen to seem a thing but slight ; But if that sum the sums discuss, The total sum doth show us straight This idleness to weigh such weight That it no tongue can well express. The harm that groweth of idleness. 30 Songs from the Dramatists. This vice I Uken to a weed That husband-men have namfed tyne, The which in com doth root or breed ; The graia to groiind it doth iacline It never ripeth, but rotteth ia fine ; And even a like tbmg is to guess Against all virtue, idleness. The proud man may he patient, The ireful may be liberal, The gluttonous may be continent, The covetous may give ahns all, The lecher may to prayer' fall ; Each vice bideth some good business, Save only idle idleness. As some one virtue may by grace Suppress of vices many a one, So is one vice once taken place Destroyeth all virtues every one ; Where this vice cometh, aU virtues are gone, In no kind of good business Can company with idleness. An ill wind that bloweth no man good, The blower of which blast is she ; The lyther' lusts bred of her brood Can no way breed good property ; Wherefore I say, as we now see. No heart can think, or tongue express. The harm that groweth of idleness ! To cleanse the com, as men at need Weed out all weeds, and tyne for chief, Let diligence our weed-hook weed AU vice from us for like relief ; As faith may faithfully show proof By faithful fruitful business. To weed out fruitless idleness. 1 This word -was constantly used as a cUssyUaWe. 2 Lazy. John Heywood. 31 WELCOME IS THE BEST DISH. "XTE be welcome, ye be weleome, '- Ye be -welcome one by one ; Ye be heartily welcome, Ye be heaitily welcome every one ! When Mends like friends do friendly show Unto each other high and low, What cheer iacrease of love doth grow. What better cheer than they to know ! This is welcome ! To bread or drink, to flesh or flsh. Yet welcome is the best dish ! In all onr fare, in all our cheer Of dainty meats sought far or near, Most fine, most costly to appear, What for all this, if all this gear Lack this welcome? This cheer, lo ! is not worth one rush. For welcome is the best dish ! Where welcome is, though fare be small, Yet honest hearts be pleased withal ; When welcome want, though great fare fall, No honest heart content it shall Without welcome ; For honest hearts do ever wish To have welcome to the best dish. Some with small fare they be not pleased ; Some with much fare be much diseased ; Some with mean fare be scant appeased ; But of all somes none is displeased To be welcome ! Then all good cheer to aeoompUsh, Welcome must be the best dish. 32 Songs from the Dramatists. Yet some to this will say that they Without welcome with meat live may, And with welcome without meat, nay ! Wherefoare meat seems best dish, they say. And not welcome I But this vain saying to banish, We will prove welcome here best dish. Though in some case, for man's relief. Meat without welcome may be chief ; Yet where man come, as here in proof, Much more for love than hunger's grief, Here is welcome. Thorough all the cheer to furnish, Here is welcome the best dish. What is this welcome now to tell ? Ye axe welcome, ye are come well. As heart can wish your coming fell, Your coining glads my heart each deU ! This is welcome ! Wherefore all doubts to relinquish, Your welcome is your best dish. Now as we have in words here spent Declared the fact of welcome meant, So pray we you to take the intent Of this poor dish that we present To your welcome, As heartily as heart can wish ; Your welcome is here your best dish ! JOHN STILL. 1543—1607. Theee is little known of the life of John Still beyond the incidents of his preferments in the church. He was the sou of William Still, of Gfrantham, in Lincolnshire, where he was John Still. 33 bom in 1543. He took the degree of M.A. at Christ's College, Cambridge, where he was made Margaret Professor in 1570; and in subsequent years was elected Master of St. John's, and afterwards of Trinity College. In 1571 he was presented to the Rectory of Hadleigh, in Suffolk, commis- sioned one of the Deans of Booking in 1572, collated to the vicarage of Eastmarham, in Yorkshire, in 1573, and iu- stalled Canon of Westminster and Dean of Sudbury in 1576. He was chosen prolocutor of convocation in 1588, promoted in 1692 to the see of Bath and Wells, and held the bishopric till his death in 1607, having amassed a large fortune by the Mendip lead mines in the diocese, and endowed an almshouse ia Wales, to which he bequeathed £500. Bishop Still was twice married, and left a large family. His excellent character is attested by Sir John Harrington, who says, that he was a man 'to whom he never came, but he grew more religions, and from whom he never went but he parted more instructed.' The comedy of Gammer Gwton's Needle was originally printed in 1575, but written several years earlier. It is composed in rhyme, and regularly divided into acts and scenes. The plot is meagre and sUly, the whole of the five acts being occupied by a hunt after a needle which Gammer Gurton is supposed to have mislaid, but which is found, by way of catastrophe, in a garment she had been mending. The altercations, quarrels, mishaps, and cross-purposes, arising out of this circumstance constitute the entire sub- stance of the piece. The dialogue is coarse, even for the age in which it was written, and the humour seldom rises above the level of clowns and buffoons. e&samw: effurton's WmOIc. B DRINKrfTG SONG.' ACK and side go bare, go bare, Both, foot and liand go cold : 1 Warton, in biBSiatory of I'oetg, Chanson a doire of any merit in iii. 206, quotes tlilssongastlieiirst ourlan^age. He says it appeared 2a 34 8oifigs from the Dramatists. But belly, God send thee good ale enougli, Whether it be new or old. I can not eat, but little meat, My stomach is not good ; in 1551. This mnst be an over- very cnrlons and interesting ; but slgbt, if Still is to be considered tlie most striking point of variance the author, as lie was then only is the omission of the verse reler- oigbt years old. The comedy was ringtoTyb.GammerGurton'smaid, produced in 1566, and printed for which suggests the probability that the first time In 1576. Thifi song, the song may have been origin- observes Warton, 'has a vein of ally an independent composition, ease and humour which we should of which Bishop Still availed liim- not expect to have been inspired by self, adapting it to the comedy thesimplebeverageof thosetimes.' by curtailments and a new verse Still less might it have been ex- with a personal allusion. There are pected from the writer of the dia- many instances of a similar use logueof this piece, the versification being made of popular ballads by of which is harsh and lumbering, the old dramatists. How far this Whether Bishop Still really wrote coi^Jecture is justifiable, must be the song, may be doubted. Mr. determined by a comparison be- Dyce, in his edition of the Skelton'e tween the above version and that works, gives another version of it given by Mr. Dyce, which is here from a MS. in his possession, wMch subjoined in the orthography of the he says is certainly of an earlier originaL date than 1675. The differences are backe & syde goo bare goo bare bothe hande & fote goo colde but beUy god sende the good ale inowghe whether hyt be newe or olde. but yf that I may have trwly good ale my belly full I shall looke lyke one by swete sainte Johnn were shoron agaynste the woole thowte I goo bare take you no care I am nothing colde I stuffe my skynne so full within of Joly goode ale & olde. I cannot eate but lytyll meate my Btomacke ys not goode but sure I thyncke that I cowd dryncke with hym that werythe an hoode dryncke is my lyfe althowghe my wyfe some tyme do ohyde & scolde yet spare I not to plye the potte of Joly goode ale & olde. backe & syde, gM river now, With garlands of great pearl his brow Begirt and rounded. In his flow AH things take life, and all things grow : A thousand wealthy treasures still, To do him. service at his wiU, FoUow his rising flood, and pour Perpetual blessings on our store. Hear him ; and next there will advance His sacred heads to tread a dance, In honour of my royal guest: Mark them too ; and you have a feast. Nilus, Make room for my rich waters' fall. And bless my flood ; Nilus comes flowing to you all Encrease and good. Now the plants and flowers shall spring, And the merry ploughman sing : In my hidden waves I bring Bread and wine, and everything. Let the damsels sing me in, Sing aloud, that I may rise : Your holy feasts and hours begin. And each hand bring a saerLflce. Now my wanton pearls I shew, That to ladies' fair necks grow ; Now my gold, And treasures that can ne'er be told. Shall bless this land, by my rich flow ; And after this, to crown your eyes, My hidden holy heads arise. 142 Songs from the Dramatists, untie Slittle JFrencf) SlatDser, SONG IN THE WOOD. T^HIS way, this way come, and hear, ^ You that hold these pleasures dear ; Fill your ears with our sweet sound, Whilst we melt the frozen ground. This way come ; make haste, oh, fair ! Let your clear eyes gild the air ; Come, and bless us with your sight ; This way, this way, seek delight ! STJe Slrafletrj of 17al«nt{nian. THE LUSTY SPRING. now the lusty spring is seen ; Golden yellow, gaudy blue, Daintily invite the view. Everywhere on every green, Roses blushing as they blow. And enticing men to puU, Lilies whiter tiian the snow. Woodbines of sweet honey fuU ; All love's emblems, and all cry, ' Ladies, if not plucked, we die.' Yet the lusty spring hath stayed, Blushing red and purest white Daintily to love invite Every woman, every maid. Cherries kissing as they grow, And inviting men to taste. Apples even ripe below, Winding gently to the waist : AJl love's emblems, and all cry, ' Ladies, if not plucked, we die.' Beaumont and Fletcher. 143 HEAR WHAT LOVE CAN DO. T^EAE, ye ladies that despise, ■*■/ What the mighty love has done ; Fear examples, and be wise : Fair CaUsto was a nun } Leda, sailing on the stream To deceive the hopes of man, Love accounting but a dream, Doated on a silver swan ; Danae, in a brazen tower. Where no love was, loved a shower. Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty love can do ; Fear the fierceness of the boy : The chaste moon he makes to woo ; Vesta, kindlitig holy fires, Circled round about with spies, Never dreaming loose desires. Doting at the altar dies ; Ilion, in a short hour, higher He can build, and once more fire. ittonsteur EJnmas.' THE MAID IN THE WINDOW. mY man Thomas Did me promise, He would visit me this night. I am here, love ; Tell me, dear, love. How I may obtain thy sight. Come up to my window, love ; Come, come, come ! 1 By Fletcher. 144 Songs from the Dramatists. Come to my ■window, my dear ; The ■wind nor the raia Shall trouble thee again, But thou shalt be lodged here. ffije ffitiances.' AUf INVOCATION. fTOME away, thou lady gay: V Hoist ! how she stumbles ! Hark how she mumbles. Dame GiUian ! Answer. — I come, I come. By old Claret I enlarge thee, By Canary thus I charge thee. By Britain MethegUn, and Peeter," Appear and answer me in metre ! Why, when? Why, GiU! Why when? Answer. — You'U tarry till I am ready. Once again I conjure thee. By the pose in thy nose. And the gout in thy toes ; By thine old dried skin, And the mummy ■within ; By thy little, little ruff, And thy hood that's made of stufif ; By thy bottle at thy breech, And thine old salt itch ; 1 Ascribed to Fletcher. the grape from the Khlne.— See 2 An abhreviation of Peter-see- note by Mr. Dyce, from Henaer- me, itself a corruptioii of Fedro- son's History of TTiTie*— Works of Xinienes, derived from Fedro-Si- Beaumont and Fletcher, vli. 297. mon, "Who is said to have imported Ximenes is still a well-known wine. Beaumont and Fletcher. 145 By the stakes, and the stones, That have worn out thy bones, Appear, Appear, Appear ! Answer. — Oh, I am here ! 9C$e 33lootf9 33totter % ax, SEloUa, iOufte of WonnanBs.' A DRINKING SONQ. DEINK to-day, and drown all sorrow, You shaJl perhaps not do it to-morrow : Best, while you have it, use your breath ; There is no drinMng after death. Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit. There is no cure 'gainst age but it : It helps the head-ach, cough, and ptisiek. And is for all diseases physiek. Then let us swill, boys, for our health; Who drinks well, loves the commonwealth." And he that will to bed go sober Falls with the leaf, still in October.' 1 The sole antliorshlp of tMs play aramatlBt.— Weber anggests either by Fletcber is doabtfol. altbongb W. Kowley or Mlddleton. ascribed to htm on the title-page of 2 This defence of drinMng is re- the edition of 1640. Parte of it are peated and expanded in a song by snpposedf on internal evidence, to Shadwell. have been ■written by some other 3 The following well-known catch, or glee, is formed on this song : ' He who goes to bed, and goes to bed sober. Palls as the leaves do, and dies in October ; Bnt he who goes to bed, and goes to bed mellow, liives as he onght to do, and dies an honest fellow.* 146 Songs from the Dramatists. SONO OP THE TBOMAK OF THE CELLAE, THE BUTLEE, THE COOK, AiTO PAUIi THE PANTLBE' GOING TO EXECUTION. Teaman. /TOME, Fortune's a jade, I care not who tell her, Sr' Would ofBer to strangle a page of the cellar. That should by his oath, to any man's thinking, And place, have had a defence for his drinMng ; But thus die does still when she pleases to palter, — Instead of his wages, she gives him a halter. Choms. Three merry boys, and three merry boys. And three merry boys are we. As ever did slog in a hempen string Under the gallows tree ! Butler. But I that was so lusty, And ever kept my bottles. That neither they were musty, And seldom less than pottles ; For me to be thus stopped now, With hemp instead of cork, sir, And from the gallows lopped now, Shews that there is a fork, sir. In death, and this the token ; Man may be two ways MUed, Or like the bottle broken, Or like the wine be spilled. Chorus. — Three merry boys, &c. Cook. Oh, yet but look On tie master cook, 1 The Pantler was the servant who had charge of the pantry. Beaumont and Fletcher. 147 The glory of the kitchen, In sewing whose fate, At so lofty a rate, No tailor e'er had stitch in ; For, though he made the man. The cook yet makes the dishes, The which no tailor can, Wherein I have my wishes. That I, who at so many a feast Have pleased so many tasters. Should now myself come to be dressed, A dish for you, my masters. Chorus. — Three merry boys, &b. Pantler. Oh, man or beast, Or you, at least, That wears or brow or antler. Prick up your ears Unto the tears Of me, poor Paul the Pantler, That thus am cUpped Because I chipped The cursed crust of treason With loyal knife : — Oh, doleful strife, To hang thus without reason ! Chorus. — Three merry boys, &c. TAKE, oh! take THOSE LIPS AWAY. T^AKE, oh ! take those lips away, ^ That SO sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, like break of day, Lights that do mislead the mom ! But my kisses bring again, Seals of love, though sealed in vain. Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow, Which thy frozen bosom bears, 148 Songs from the Dramatists. On whose tops the pinks that grow Are yet o£ those that April wears ! But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.' SI mSlU tox a jWont!).' TO THE BLEST EVANTHE. LET those complain that feel Love's cruelty, And in sad legends write their woes ; With roses gently h' has corrected me, My war is without rage or blows ; My mistress' eyes shine fair on my desires, And hope springs up inflamed with her new fires. No more an exUe wiU I dwell, With folded arms, and sighs all day, Beckoning the torments of my hell. And flinging my sweet joys away : I am called home again to quiet peace ; My mistress smiles, and all my sorrows cease. 1 The first stanza of this song is nellns Qallns. The following are found in Measure for Measure.— the corresponding passages, which See ante, p. 96. The origin of hoth discover a resemWance too close to verses may he traced to the frag- have been merely accidental : ment Ad 1/ydia/m, ascribed to Cor- ' Fande, Pnella. genas roseas. Perfusas ruhro purporeae tyrise. Porrige labra, labra corallina ; Da colnmbatim mitia basia : Sngis amentis partem animi. — Slnns expansa prof ert cinnama ; Undique snrgant ex te deliclsB. Conde papillas» qnee me saaciant Candore, et luxu nivei pectoris.' The English version of the second of Becandns, is still nearer to of these passages, by the translator Fletcher's song. ' Again, above its envious rest, See, thy bosom heaves confesti Hide the rapturous, dear delight t Hide it from my ravished sight I Hide It 1— for through all my soul Tides of maddening rapture roll.' 2 By Fletcher. Beaumont and Fletcher. 149 Yet, what is living in her eye, Or being blessed with her sweet tongue, If these no other joys imply ? A golden gyve, a pleasing wrong : To be your own but one poor month, I'd ^ve My youth, my fortune, and then leave to Uve. THE SONG OF THE DEAD HOST. 'T^IS late and cold ; stir up the fire ; ^ Sit close, and draw the table nigher ; Be merry, and drink wine that's old, A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold : Your beds of wanton down the best. Where you shall tumble to your rest ; I could wish you wenches too, But I am dead, and cannot do. Call for the best the house may ring. Sack, white, and claret, let them bring. And drink apace, whUe breath you have ; You'll find but cold drink in the grave : Plover, partridge, for your dinner. And a capon for the sinner. You shall find ready when you're up, And your horse shall have his sup : Welcome, welcome, shall fly round. And I shall smile, though under ground. NEPTUNE COMMANDING STILLNESS ON THE SEA. D^ ^OWN, ye angry waters all ! Ye loud whistUng whirlwinds, fall ! Down, ye proud waves ! ye storms, cease ! I command ye, be at peace ! 1 One of the pieces lefttmllnislied another writer— supposed to T)o by Fletcher, and completed toy Shirley, or Masslnger. 2 Ascritoed to Fletcher. 150 Songs from the Dramatists. Fright not •with your churlish notes, Nor bruise the keel of bark that floats ; No devouring fish come nigh, Nor monster in my empery Once show his head, or terror bring ; But let the weary sailor sing: Amphitrite with white arms Strike my lute, I'll sing thy charms. Wat ffiaiitain. THE CATECHISM OF LOVE. jnELL me, dearest, what is love ? *^ 'Tis a lightning from above ; 'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire, 'Tis a boy they call Desire. 'Tis a grave. Gapes to have Those poor fools that long to prove. Tell me more, are women true 9 Yes, some are, and some as you. Some are willing, some are strange, Since you men first taught to change. And till troth Be iu both, AU shall love, to love anew. Tell me more yet, can they grieve ? Yes, and sicken sore, but live, Ajid be wise, and delay, When you men are as wise as they. Then I see, Faith will be, Never till they both believe.* 1 The Prologue speaka of only both Beaumont and Fletcher,— the one author,— one writer of com- rest to Fletcher alone, mendatory verses ascribes it to 2 The music of this song was Jieaumont and ±'letctier. l&i THE ISrVITATION. /TOME hither, you that love, and hear me sing 'K Of joys still growing. Green, fresh, and lusty as the pride of spring. And ever blowing. Come hither, youths that blush, and dare not know What is desire ; And old men, worse than you, that cannot blow One spark of fire ; And with the power of my enehantiag song. Boys shall be able men, and old men young. Come hither, you that hope, and you that cry ; Leave off complaiaing j Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never die. Are here remaining. Come hither, fools, and blush you stay so long From being blessed ; And mad men, worse than you, that suffer wrong. Yet seek no rest ; And in an hour, with my enchanting song. You shall be ever pleased, and young maids long. composed by Robert JoHes. The The Knight of tlie Burning Peatle, first two -verses are repeated in wltb some variations. 'Tell me, dearest, what is love? 'Tis a lightning from above ; 'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire ; 'Tis a boy they call Desire. 'Tis a smile Doth beguile The poor hearts of men that prove. Tell me more, are women true? Some love change, and so do you. Are they fair, and never kind? Yes, when men turn with the wind. Are they fro ward? Ever toward Those that love, to love anew.' 152 Songs from the Dramatists. Efte tfSiueen of fflortntj).' A ' SAB SONG.' TTVEEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan, *^ Sorrow calls no time that's gone : Violets plucked, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again;" Trim thy locks, look cheerfully ; Fate's hidden ends eyes caimot see : Joys as winged dreams fly fast. Why should sadness longer last ? Grief is but a wound to woe ; Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no mo. i!rtie la^niKlit of t(e SSumitiQ $estU. THE HEALTHINESS OP MIRTH. ' J^IS mirth that fiUs the veins with blood, ^ More than wine, or sleep, or food; Let each man keep his heart at ease ; No man dies of that disease. He that would his body keep From diseases, must not weep; But whoever laughs and sings, Never he his body brings Into fevers, gouts, or rheums. Or lingeringly his limgs consumes ; Or meets with ach&s in his bone, Or catarrhs, or griping stone : But contented Uves for aye ; The more he laughs, the more he may. 1 Ascribed to Fletcher. Ms ballad of The Friar of Orders 2 TMb most exquisite passage is Qrey : tins embodied by Bishop Percy in ' Weep no more, lady, weep no more ; Thy sorrow is in vain : For violets plucked the sweetest showers Will ne'er make grow again.' Beaumont and Fletcher. 153 DIEGE FOE THE FAITHFUL LOVEE. /TOME, you whose loves are dead, V And, whiles 1 sing, Weep, and wring Every hand and every head Bind with cypress and sad yew ; Eibbons black and candles blue For him that was of men most true. Come with heavy moaning, And on his grave Let him have Sacrifice of sighs and groaning ; Let him have fair flowers enow. White and purple, green and yellow, For him that was of most men true ! LIVE WELL AND BE IDLE. I WOULD not be a serving-man To carry the cloak-bag stUl, Nor would I be a falconer The greedy hawks to fill ; But I would be in a good house, And have a good master too ; But I would eat and drink of the best. And no work would I do. JILLIAU OF BERET. TJOR JUhan of Berry, she dwells on a hill, A^ And she hath good beer and ale to sell. And of good fellows she thinks no ill, And thither will we go now, now, now, And thither we will go now. And when you have made a little stay, You need not ask what is to pay. But Mss your hostess, and go your way ; And thither, &c. 7a 154 Songs from the Dramatists. THE SONG OP MAY-DAT. LONDON, to tihee I do present The merry month of May ; Let each true subject be content To hear me what I say : For from the top of conduit-head, As plainly may appear, I mil both tell my name to you, And wherefore I came here. My name is Ralph, by due descent. Though not ignoble I, Yet far inferior to the flock Of gracious grocery ; And by the common counsel of My fellows in the Strand, With gilded staff and crossed scarf, The May-lord here I stand. Rejoice, oh, English hearts, rejoice ! Rejoice, oh, lovers dear ! Rejoice, oh, city, town, and country, Rejoice eke every shire ! For now the fragrant flowers do spring And sprout in seemly sort, The little birds do sit and sing. The lambs do make fine sport ; And now the birchen-tree doth bud, That makes the schoolboy cry ; The morris rings, while hobby-horse Doth foot it feateously ; The lords and ladies now abroad, For their disport and play, Do Mss sometimes upon the grass, And sometimes to the hay. Now butter with a leaf of sage Is good to purge the blood j Fly Venus and phlebotomy, For they are neither good ! Beaumont and Fletcher. 155 Now little fish on tender stone Begin to cast their bellies, And sluggish snails, that erst were mewed. Do creep out of their sheUies ; The rumbling rivers now do warm, For httle boys to paddle ; The sturdy steed now goes to grass. And up they hang his saddle ; The heavy hart, the blowing buck. The rascal, and the pricket. Are now among the yeoman's pease. And leave the fearful thicket ; And be like them, oh, you, I say, Of this same noble town, And Uft aloft your velvet heads. And sUpping off your gown. With bells on legs, and napkins clean Unto your shoulders tied, With scarfs and garters as you please. And ' Hey for our town ! ' cried, March out and shew your wihing minds, By twenty and by twenty. To Eogsdon, or to Newington, Where ale and cakes are plenty ; And let it ne'er be said for shame, That we the youths of London Lay thrumming of our caps at home, And left our custom undone. Up, then, I say, both young and old, Both man and maid a-maying, With drums and guns that bounce aloud. And merry tabor playing ! Which to prolong, God save our king. And send his country peace. And root out treason from the land ! And so, my friends, I cease. 156 Songs from the Dramatists, me iWam in t^e jam,' LET THE MILL GO ROUND. ■rjOW liaving leisure, and a happy wind, A^ Thou mayst at pleasure cause the stones to grind ; Sails spread, and grist have ready to be ground ; Fy, stand not idly, but let the mill go round ! How long shall I pine for love 9 How long shall I sue in. vain t How long like the turtle-dove. Shall I heavily thus complain ? Shall the sails of my love stand stiU ? Shall the grist of my hopes be imground ? Oh fy, oh fy, oh fy ! Let the mill, let the rnill go round ! THE SLEEPING BBATTTT. OH, fair sweet face ! oh, eyes celestial bright, Twin stars in heaven, that now adorn the night ! Oh, fruitful Ups, where cherries ever grow, And damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow ! Oh thou, from head to foot divinely fair ! Cupid's most cunning net's made of that hair; And, as he weaves himself for curious eyes, ' Oh me, oh me, I'm caught myself ! ' he cries : Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep, Soft peaceful thoughts your hourly watches keep, Whilst I in wonder slug this sacriflce. To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes ! WHAT WOMEN MOST DESIRE. Question, 'FELL me what is that only thing •^ For which all women long ; Yet having what they most desire, To have it does them wrong 9 1 The Joint production of Fletclier and W. EoTTley. Beaumont and Fletcher. 157 Answer, 'Tis not to- be chaste, nor fair, (Sucli gifts malice may impair,) Eiehly trimmed, to walk or ride, Or to wanton unespied ; To preserve an honest name, And so to give it up to fame ; These are toys. In good or iU They desire to have their will : Yet, when they have it, they abuse it. For they know not how to use it." Cu|iiti's Ketomge. SACRimCE TO CUPID. /70ME, my children, let your feet V^ In an even measure meet. And your cheerful voices rise, To present this sacrifice To great Cupid, in whose name, I his priest begin the same. Young men, take your loves and kiss ; Thus our Cupid honoured is ; Bliss again, and iu your MssiQg Let no promises be missing ; Nor let any maiden here Dare to turn away her ear Unto the whisper of her love. But give bracelet, ring, or glove, As a token to her sweeting, Of an after secret meeting. Now, boy, sing, to stick our hearts FuUer of great Cupid's darts. 1 TMs solution of tbe question is But Chancer spares the ladies the to lie lonnd in the Wife of Bath's nngallant commentary with which Tale^ and, doubtless, was a com- the song closes, mon saw from time immemorial. 158 Songs from the Dramatists. LOVERS, EBJOIOE ! LOVERS, rejoice 1 your pains shall be rewarded. The god of love himself grieves at your crying ; No more shall frozen honour be regarded, Nor the coy faces of a maid denying. No more shall virgins sigh, and say, 'We dare not, ' For men are false, and what they do they care not.' AH shall be well again ; then do not grieve ; Men shall be true, and women shall believe. Lovers, rejoice ! what you shall say henceforth, "When you have caught your sweethearts in your arms, It shall be counted oracle and worth ; No more faint-hearted girls shall dream of harms, And cry, ' They are too young' ; the god hath said, Fifteen shall make a mother of a maid ; Then, wise men, pull your roses yet unblown ; Love hates the too ripe fruit that falls alone. PBAVEK TO CUPID. /7UFID, pardon what is past, V And forgive our sins at last ! Then we will be coy no more, But thy deity adore ; Troths at fifteen we will plight, And win tread a dance each night. In the fields, or by the fire. With the youths that have desire. Given ear-rings we will wear, Bracelets of our lovers' hair, Which they on our arms shall twist, With their names carved on our wrists ; AU the money that we owe ' We in tokens will bestow : 1 Own— poaaeas. Beaumont and Fletcher. 159 And learn to write that, when 'tis sent, Only our loves know what is meant. Oh, then pardon what is past, And forgive our sins at last ! Srt)e ZCtoo Hoble Kinsmen,' A BRIDAL SONG. ROSES, their sharp spines being gone, Not royal in their smells alone. But in their hue ; Maiden-pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smeU-less, yet most quaint. And sweet thyme true ; Primrose, flrst-bom child of Ver, Merry spring- time's harbinger, With her bells dim : Oxhps in their cradles growing. Marigolds on death-beds blowing, Lark-heels trim. All, dear Nature's children sweet. Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet, Blessing their sense ! Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious, or bird fair, Be absent hence ! The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor The boding raven, nor chough hoar,' 1 stated in the first 4to ecUtlon, respond to therhymeandtheeense. 1634, to he the Joint production of There is some difflcnlty in accept- Fletcher and Shakespeare. ing the original reading, dough 2 In the old editions, this line means a break or valley in the side runs — of a hill, and the poet is here enu- ._^„^„.. ,„„„ , ^^„, merating the birds that are not to The bodmg raven, nor cloogh he;' ^^ permitted to perch or sing on Mr. Seward altered it as above, to the hride-houee. 160 Songs, from the Dramatists. Nor chattering pie, May on our bride-house perch or sing, Or with them any discord bring. But from it fly ! THE DIRGE OP THE THREE KINQS. a ENS and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day ! Our dole more deadly looks than dying ; Balms, and gums, and heavy cheers. Sacred vials filled with tears. And clamours through the wild air flying ! Come all sad and solemn shows. That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes ! We convent nought else but woes. THE jailor's daughter. FOR I'U cut my green coat, a foot above my knee ; And m clip my yellow locks, an inch below mine eye. Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny. He's buy me a white cut, forth for to ride, And I'U go seek Viim through the world that is so wide: Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny. Sri)e rooman^^atec. INVOCATION TO SLEEP. /TOME, Sleep, and, with thy sweet deceiving, V Lock me ia delight awhile ; Let some pleasing dreams beguile AU my fancies ; that from thence I may feel an influence, AU my powers of care bereaving ! Beaumont and Fletcher. 161 Though but a shadow, but a sliding, Let me know some little joy ! We that suffer long annoy Are contented with a thought, Through an idle fancy wrought : Oh, let my joys have some abiding ! STfte Wice TJaloui;; or, EJe ^passionate JWaBman.' LOVE, SHOOT moke! THOU deity, swift-winged Love, Sometimes below, sometimes above. Little in shape, but great ia power ; Thou that makest a heart thy tower, And thy loop-holes ladies' eyes. From whence thou strikest the fond and wise ; Did all the shafts in thy fair quiver Stick fast ia my ambitious liver. Yet thy power would I adore. And call upon thee to shoot more, Shoot more, shoot more ! LOVE, SHOOT NO MAID AGAIN 1 OH, turn thy bow ! Thy power we feel and know ; Fair Cupid, turn away thy bow ! They be those golden arrows. Bring ladies all their sorrows ; And 'tiU there be more truth in men, Never shoot at maid again ! 1 Ascribed to Fletclier. 162 Songs from the Dramatists. MBLAlrCHOLT. BENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your f oUy ! There's nought in this Ufe sweet, If man were wise to see't. But only melancholy. Oh, sweetest melancholy ! Welcome, folded arms, and ftxM eyes, A sight that piercing mortifies, A look that's fastened to the groond, A tongue chained up without a sound ! Fountain heads, and pathless groves. Places which pale passion loves! Moonhght walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed, save bats and owls ! A midnight beU, a parting groan ! These are the sounds we feed upon ; Then stretch our hones in a still gloomy valley. Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. THE PASSIONATE LOBD. ACUESE upon thee, for a slave ! Art thou here, and heardst me rave ? Ply not sparkles from mine eye. To shew my indignation nigh 9 Am I not all foam and fire. With voice as hoarse as a town-erier ? How my back opes and shuts together With fury, as old men's with weather ! Couldst tiiou not hear my teeth gnash hither ? Death, heU, fiends, and darkness ! I wiU thrash thy mangy carcase. There cannot be too many tortures Spent upon those lousy quarters. Beaumont and Fletcher. 163 Thou nasty, scurvy, mungrel toad, Mischief on thee ! Light upon thee All the plagues that can confound thee, Or did ever reign abroad ! Better a thousand lives it cost. Than have brave anger spilt or lost. LAUGHING SONG. [For several voices.] OH, how my lungs do tickle ! ha, ha, ha, Oh, how my lungs do tickle ! ho, ho, ho, ho ! Set a sharp jest Against my breast. Then how my lungs do tickle ! As nightingales, And things in cambric rails. Sing best against a prickle.' Ha, ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho ! Laugh ! Laugh ! Laugh ! Laugh ! Wide ! Loud ! And vary ! A smile is for a simpering novice. One that ne'er tasted caviare, Nor knows the smack of dear anchovies. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho ! A giggling waiting wench for me. That shows her teeth how white they be ! 1 A multitade ol examples might Fletcher assigns a reason for the hecitedol the nse of this favourite painful pose of the nightingale allusion by the old poets. Giles while she is singing : ' Ne ever lets sweet rest invade her eyes, But leaning on a thorn her dainty chest. For fear soft sleep should steal into her breast, Expresses in her song grief not to be expressed.' Christ's Victory. 164 Songs from the Dramatists. A thing not fit for gravity, For theirs are foul and hardly three. Ha, ha, ha I Ho, ho, ho ! Democritus, thou ancient fleerer, How I miss thy laugh, and ha' since!' There thou named the famous [est] jeerer. That e'er jeered in Bome or Athens. Ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho. fiow brave lives he that keeps a fool, Although the rate be deeper ! But he that is his own fool, sir. Does live a great deal cheaper. Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break. Thou art so witty. 'Tis rare to break at court, For that belongs to the city. Ha, ha ! my spleen is almost worn To the last laughter, Oh, keep a comer for a friend ; A jest may come hereafter. THOMAS MTODLETON. 1570—1627. Mk. Dtce coniectures that Thomas Middleton was bom about 1570. His father was settled in London, where the poet was bom. The materials gathered for his biography are scanty. He seems to have been admitted a member of Gray's Inn, to have been twice married, and to have con- tributed numerous pieces to the stage, sometimes in oon- 1 Changed by Seward to 'Hiow I miss tliy laugh, and ha^senBe.' The change helps little towards clearing op the obsonritr. Thomas Middleton. 165 laeotion with several of his contemporaries. He was ap- pointed, in 1620, Chronologer to the City of London, and 'Inventor of its honourable Entertainments.' In 1624, the Spanish ambassador having complained to the King that the persons of the King of Spain, Conde de Gondomar, and . others were represented upon the stage in ' a very scandal- ous comedy' called A Game at Chess, written by Middleton, the author and the actors were cited before the Privy Coun- cil. The actors appeared, and pleaded that the piece had been produced under the usual sanction of the Master of the Kevels ; but Middleton, ' shifting out of the way, and not attending the board with the rest,' was ordered to be arrested, and a warrant was issued for his apprehension. The play was in the meanwhile suppressed, and for a cer- tain time the actors were prohibited from appearing. Mid- dleton afterwards submitted, but no further punishment appears to have been inflicted. At this time, Middleton resided at Newington Butts, where he died in 1627. Middleton may be fairly assigned a distinguished position amongst the dramatists of his period. His most conspicu- ous characteristics are a rich and natural humour and a, poetical imagination. Nor was he deficient in passionate energy and pathos, although inferior in these qualities to some of his contemporaries. JSlurt, IWaster ffionstafile}' or, SCJe Spaitlarli's STiflSt^tBalft. [First primted in 1602.] WHAT LOVE IS LIKE. LOVE is like a lamb, and love is like a lion j Fly from loTe, lie fights; flght, then does he fly on; Love is all on fire, and yet is ever freezing ; Love is much in winning, yet is more in leesing : " 1 A proverbial phrase. 2 Losing. 166 Songs from the Dramatists. Love is ever sick, and yet is never dying ; Love is ever true, and yet is ever lying ; Love does doat in liMng, and is mad in loathing ; Love indeed is anything, yet indeed is nothing. PITY, PITT, PITT! piTY, pity, pity! * Pity, pity, pity I That word begins that ends a tnie-love ditty. Your blessed eyes, like a paic of suns, Shine in the sphere of smiling ; Yoiu: pretty lips, like a pair of doves. Are kisses still compiling. Mercy hangs upon your brow like a precious jewel : 0, let not then, Most lovely maid, best to be loved of men, Marble lie upon your heart, that will make you cruel! Pity, pity, pity! Pity, pity, pity ! That word begins that ends a true-love ditty. OHERET LIP AND WANTON EYE. LOVE for such a cherry lip Would be glad to pawn his arrows: Venus here to take a sip Would sell her doves and team of sparrows. But they shall not so ; Hey nonny, nonny no ! None but I this life must owe ; Hey nonny, nonny no ! Did Jove see this wanton eye, Gan3Tnede must wait no longer ; Phoebe here one night did he,' Would change her face and look much younger. 1 Mr. Dyce changes the line to— * Did PlicBbe here one night lie,' obtaining the Bense at the coBt of the melody. Thomas Middleton. 167 But they shall not so ; ' Hey nonny, nonny no None but I this life must owe ; Hey nonny, nonny no ! a Jttan ffiWorln, mj Jttastjra. [Incensed and first printed in 1608.] BACCHANALIAN CATCH. OFOR a bowl of fat canary, Bich Aristippus, sparkling sherry! Some nectar else from Juno's dairy; O these draughts would make us merry! O for a wench ! I deal in faces, And in other daintier things ; Tickled am I with her embraces j Fine danciag in such fairy rings ! O for a plump, fat leg of mutton. Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and coney ! None is happy but a glutton, None an ass, but who wants money. Wines, indeed, and girls are good ; But brave victuals feast the blood ; For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer, Jove would come down to surfeit here.' 1 Tie authorship of this song is written by either Lyly or Middle- doubtful. It was printed for the ton ; but, if by either, the evidence first time in the Alexa/nder and is In favor of the latter, as Lyly Campaspe of Lyly appended to the was dead many years before 1632, edition of 1632, and is not to be when the song was first printed, found in the earlier editions, the and Middleton was certainly alive first of which appeared in 1B84. a few years before that time. Mr. Tliat it did not originally belong to Dyce, who prints it at the end of A Mad World, m/y Masters, is clear Middletou's play from the edition from this circumstance, the first of 1640, does not appear to have edition of that play having been been aware that it had previously published in 1608 ; but it was add- been printed in Lyly's Alexander ed to the second edition in 1640. and Campaspe. The probability is that it was not 168 Songs from the Dramatists. THE THREE STATES OF WOMAN. TN a maiden-time professed, A Then we say that Me is blessed; Tasting once the married hfe, Then we only praise the wife ; There's but one state more to try, Which make's women laugh or cry — Widow, widow : of these three The middle's best, and that give me. HECATE AND THE WITCHES. Voices above. /TOME away, come away, V^ Hecate, Hecate, come away. Hecate. I come, I come, I come, I come, With aU the speed I may, With all the speed I may. Where's Stadhn ? Voice above. Here. Hecate. Where's PucMe 9 Voice above. Here. And Hoppo too, and Hellwain too ; We lack but you, we lack but you ; Come away, make up the count. Hecate. I will but 'noint, and then I mount. [A spirit like a cat descends. Voice above. There's one comes down to fetch his dues. A kiss, a coU, a sip of blood ; And why thou stayest so long I muse, I muse, Since the air's so sweet and good. Hecate. 0, art thou come ! What news, what news ? Spirit. All goes still to our delight: Either come, or else Refuse, refuse. Hecate. Now I'm furnished for the flight. Thomas Middleton. 169 Now I go, now I fly, MalMn my sweet spirit and I. O what a dainty pleasure 'tis To ride in the air When the moon shines fair. And sing and dance, and toy and kiss ! Over woods, high rocks, and mountains, Over seas, our mistress' fountains. Over steeples, towers, and turrets. We fly by night, 'mongst troops of spirits : No ring of beUs to our ears sounds. No howls of wolves, no yelps of hounds ; No, not the noise of water's breach. Or cannon's throat our height can reach. THE CHABM. ■pjLACK spirits and white, red spirits and gray, -'-' Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may ! Titty, Tiffin, Keep it stiff iu ; Firedrake, Puckey, Make it lucky ; Liard, Robiu, You must bob in. Round, around, around, about, about ! All an come running in, aU good keep out ! Here's the blood of a bat. Put iu that, put in that ! Here's hbbard's bane. Put in agaiu ! The juice of toad, the oil of adder ; Those will make the younker madder. Put in — there's aU — and rid the stench. Nay, here's three ounces of the red-haired wench. Round, around, around, about, about ! ' 1 The similarity between these doubt that Shakespeare borrowed passages and the wit«h scenes in from Middleton, or Middleton from JfacbeiA- is too close to admit of a Shakespeare. Which playwas pro- 170 Songs from the Dramatists. [In 1623 this comedy was entered by Sir Henry Herbert as an ' old play.^ It was first printed in 1657.] SONG OF THE GIPSIES. /TOME, my dainty doxies, V' My dells, ' my dells most dear ; We have neither house nor land, Yet never want good cheer. We never want good cheer. We take no care for candle rents. We lie, we snort, we sport in tents. Then rouse betimes and steal our dinners. Our store is never taken Without pigs, hens, or bacon, And that's good meat for sinners ; At wakes and fairs we cozen Poor country folk by dozen ; If one have money, he disburses ; Whilst some teU fortunes, some pick purses ; Rather than be out of use, We'll steal garters, hose, or shoes. Boots, or spurs with gingliag rowels. Shirts or napkins, smocks or towels. Come live with us, come live with us, daced first is an open question, ceded him), becanse iiis witches Steevons and Gifford assign the are distinguislied from those of priority to Middleton, Malone to Middleton hy essential differences. Shalcespeare. Mr. Dyce objects to This is gnlte true. Bnt it should Mr. Gifford that ho adduces no be observed that it is not in these evidence to show that the Wit£h essential differences, which lie in was anterior to Macbeth ; but, so the elements of character, and not far as his own opinion is concerned, in forms of expression, that the re- leaves the question where he found semblance consists; and that the It. Lamb, in a subtle and discrim- fact of direct imitation in the con- Inating criticism, says that the co- ception and poetical treatment of incidence does not detract much the Charms and Incantations re- from the originality of Shakespeare mains unaffected. ( supposing Middleton to have pre- 1 A cant term for an undefiled girl. Middleton and Rowley. 171 All you that love your eases ; He that's a gipsy May be dnmk or tipsy At any hour he pleases. We laugh, we quaff, we roar, we scuffle ; We cheat, we drab, we filch, we shuffle. ^ (iCjiaste iWaiti in Cj)ea]?sit)e. [First printed in 1630.] THE PAETING OF LOVERS. 7TTEEP eyes, break heart ! '>*-' My love and I must part. Cruel fates true love do soonest sever ; O, I shall see thee never, never, never ! O, happy is the maid whose life takes end Ere it knows parent's frown or loss of friend ! Weep eyes, break heart ! My love and I must part. THOMAS MIDDLETON AJSTD WILLIAM ROWLEY. William Rowley was an actor in the Prmoe of Wales's company in the reign of James I. In addition to some plays of which he was the sole author, his name appears attached to several others, in conjunction with those of Middleton, Webster, Massinger, Thomas Heywood, Day, Wilkins, Ford, and Fletcher ; and in one instance Shakespeare is said to have assisted him. 2Ci)e Spanisf) esiysj. [This piece was played at court about 1623 or 1624, Tmi the date of its first production in the theatre is not known. It was first printed in 1663.] GIPSIES. ^EIP it, gipsies, trip it fine, ^ Show tricks and lofty capers ; 172 Songs front the Dramatists. At threading-needles' we repine, And leaping over rapiers : Pindy pandy rascal toys ! We scorn cutting purses ; Though we live by making noise, For cheating none can curse us. Over high ways, over low, And over stones and gravel. Though we trip it on the toe. And thus for silver travel ; Though our dances waste our backs, At night fat capons mend them, Eggs well brewed ia buttered sack. Our wenches say befriend them. Oh that aU the world were mad ! Then should we have fine dancing ; Hobby-horses would be had And brave girls keep a-prancing ; Beggars would on cock-horse ride, And boobies fall a-roaring ; And cuckolds, though no horns be spied, Be one another goring. Welcome, poet, to our giag!' Make rhymes, we'U give thee reason, Canary bees thy brains shall sting. Mull-sack did ne'er speak treason ; Peter-see-me ' shall wash thy nowl. And Malaga glasses fox thee ; If, poet, thou toss not bowl for bowl, Thou shalt not kiss a doxy. 1 An old pastime. 2 Qang. 3 See Note, p. 144. Middleton and BowUy. 173 THE GIPSY BOUT. /TOME, follow your leader, foUow, V Our convoy be Mars and Apollo ; Tke van comes brave up here ; As hotly comes the rear. Our knackers are the fifes and drums, Sa, sa, the gipsies' army comes ! Horsemen we need not fear, There's none but footmen here ; The horse sure charge without ; Or if they wheel about, Our knackers are the shot that fly. Pit-a-pat rattling in the sky. If once the great ordnance play, That's laughing, yet run not away. But stand the push of pike, Scorn can but basely strike ; Then let our armies join and sing. And pit-a-pat make our knackers ring. Arm, arm ! what bands are those ? They cannot be sure our foes ; We'll not draw up our force. Nor muster any horse ; For since they pleased to view our sight, Let's this way, this way, give deUght. A council of war let's call. Look either to stand or fall ; If our weak army stands. Thank all these noble hands ; Whose gates of love being open thrown, We enter, and then the town's our own. 174 Songs from the Dramatists. THE gipsy's oath. tHY best hand lay on this turf of grass, There thy heart lies, vow not to pass From ns two years for sun nor snow, For hiU nor dale, howe'er winds blow ; Vow the hard earth to be thy bed, "With her green cushions under thy head ; Flower-banks or moss to be thy board. Water thy wine — and drink like a lord. Bangs can have but coronations ; We are as proud of gipsy fashions ; Dance, sing, and in a well-mixed border. Close this new brother of our order. What we get with us come share. You to get must vow to care ; Nor strike gipsy, nor stand by When strangers strike, but fight or die ; Our gipsy-wenches are not common. You must not kiss a fellow's leman ; Nor to your own, for one you must, In songs send errands of base lust. Dance, sing, and in a weU-mlxed border Close this new brother of our order. Set foot to foot ; those garlands hold. Now mark [well] what more is told ; By cross arms, the lover's sign. Vow as these flowers themselves entwine. Of April's wealth building a throne Eound, so your love to one or none ; By those touches of your feet. You must each night embracing meet, Chaste, howe'er disjoined by day ; You the sun with her must play, She to you the marigold. To none but you her leaves unfold ; Middleton and Rowley. 175 Wake she or sleep, your eyes so charm. Want, woe, nor weather do her harm. This is your market now of kisses, Buy and sell free each other blisses. Hohdays, high days, gipsy-fairs. When kisses are fairings, and hearts meet in pairs. THE GIPSY LIFE. "O RAVE Don, east your eyes on our gipsy fashions : ■'-' In our antique hey de guize ' we go beyond all nations; Plump Dutch at us gruteh, so do English, so do French; He that lopes^ on the ropes, show me such another wench. We no camels have to show, nor elephant with ^owt' head; We can dance, he cannot go, because the beast is corn- fed ; No blind bears, shedding tears, for a colher's whipping; Apes nor dogs, quick as frogs, over cudgels skipping. Jaeks-in-boxes, nor decoys, puppets, nor such poor things, Nor are we those roaring boys that cozen fools with gUt rings;* For an ocean, not such a motion as the city Nineveh, Dancing, singing, and fine ringing, you these sports shall hear and see. 1 A cotintry dance. person likely to be swindled into 2 Leaps. 3 Great. the pnrcbase of them. It ia one 4 Ring-dropping, a gulling trick, of the cheats npon countrymen which consisted in dropping a described by Sir John Fielding, in paper of braaa rings, washed over the last century, m his JUxtracts with gold, on the pavement, and from the Penal La/wa, and is still picking it up in the presence of a practised in the streets of London. 176 Songs from the Dramatists. BEN JONSON, PIiETCHER, AND MTDDLETON. [Acted, about 1616. First printed 1662.] THE thieves' song. COW roTiiid the world goes, and every £hiag that's A^ in it ! The tides of gold and silver ebb and flow in a minute : Prom the nsnrer to his sons, there a current swiftly runs; From the sons to queans in chief, from the gallant to the thief; From the thief unto his host, from the host to husband- men; From the country to the court ; and so it comes to us again. How round the world goes, and every thing that's in it; The tides of gold and silver ebb and flow in a minute. THOMAS DEKKER. An industrioTis dramatist in the reign of James L, chiefly distinguished by having been engaged in a literary quarrel with Ben Jonson, who satirized Mm under the name of Grispmus, an indignity for which Dekker took ample revenge in his Satiro-mastix ; or, the Vntrussmg of a Sumorous Poet. Dekker must not be estimated from Jensen's character of Mm. He wrote a great number of plays, and was joined in several by Webster, Ford, and others. His pieces are remarkably unequal. His plots are not always well chosen, and are generally careless in construction. But in occa- sional scenes he rises to an unexpected height of power, and exMbits a range of fancy that fairly entitles him to take rank with the majority of his contemporaries. T. Dekker and B. Wilson. Ill ffilo iFortunattts. [First printed in VHOO.] VIBTUE AiTD VICE. ■\7IETUE'S branckes wither, virtue pines, " O pity ! pity ! and alack the time ! Vice doth floTirish, vice in glory shines, Her gilded boughs above the cedar climb. Vice hath golden cheeks, pity, pity ! She in every land doth monarcMze : Virtue is exiled from every city, Virtue is a fool. Vice only wise. O pity, pity ! Virtue weeping dies ! Vice laughs to see her faint, alack the time ! This sinks ; with painted wings the other flies ; Alack, that best should fall, and bad should climb. O pity, pity, pity ! mourn, not sing ; Vice is a saint. Virtue an underUng ; Vice doth flourish. Vice in glory shines, Virtue's branches wither, Virtue pines. T. DEKKEE AND R. WILSON. Wilson was an aotor of humorous parts, and one of the n companions over the ' Mermaid wine,' alluded to by .umont, in Ms verses to Ben Jonson : * Filled witli sncli moisture, in most grievous qualms Did Robert Wilson write bis slngliig psalms.' !e was considered by Meres one of the best comedy- ters of his time. He wrote, however, only one entire se, The Cobbler's Prophecy ; but assisted Chettle, Dekker, others in the composition of several. 8a 178 Songs from the Dramatists. Srjc SSoemafeeic's J^olOiaj j or, Stje ®fentle fflraft. 1S94. THE summer's queen. OTHE month of May, the merry month o£ May, ) So frolick, so gay, and so green, so green, so 0, and then did 1 unto my true love say, [green ! Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen. Now the nightingale, the pretty nightingale, The sweetest singer in aU the forest's quire. Entreats thee, sweet Peggy, to hear thy true love's tale : Lo, yonder she sitteth, her breast against a brier. But O, I spy the cuckoo, the cuckoo, the cuckoo ; See where she sitteth ; come away, my joy : Come away, I prithee, I do not like the cuckoo Should sing where my Peggy and I kiss and toy. O, the month of May, the merry month of May, So frolick, so gay, and so green, so green, so green; And then did I unto my true love say. Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen. SAINT HUGH ! AT OLD'S the wind, and wet's the rain, V' Saiat Hugh be our good speed! Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain, Nor helps good hearts in need. TroU the bowl, the jolly nut-brown bowl. And here kind mate to thee ! Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul. And down it merrily. Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down. Ho ! well done, to me let come, Eing compass, gentle joy ! DekJcer, Ghettle, and Haughton. 179 Troll the bowl, the nut-brown bowl, And here kind, &c. Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain, Saint Hugh! be our good speed; 111 is the weather that biingeth no gain. Nor helps good hearts in need. THOMAS DEKKEE, HENET CHETTLE, AND WILLIAM: HAUGHTON. The names of Chettle and Haughton are attached to a great number of plays, generally ia conjunction with those of other writers. It is difficult to determine their respective merits ; but as far as any speculation may be founded upon such evidence of their independent labours as can be traced with certainty, Chettle had a more serious veia than Haughton, whose special force lay in comedy. How this joint authorship was conducted, we have no means of ascer- taining. The likelihood is that in most cases there was one principal writer, with whom the subject may have origi- nated, and that when he had completed his design, either as a sketch or a finished work, the others filled in, added, retrenched, or altered. If there be any weight in this sup- position, the largest share in the comedy of Patient Gnssell should perhaps be assigned to Dekker, whose name stands first of the three in the entry acknowledging a payment in earnest of the play, in Henslowe's Diary. The story of Patient Grissell was first thrown into a nar- rative shape by Boccaccio ; and the earliest drama on the subject was brought upon the stage by the French, in 1393. About 1538, Richard Radcliffe, a schoolmaster in Hert- fordshire, wrote a play called Patient Griselde, founded on Boccaccio, of which nothing has survived but the name. Dekker and his coadjutors may probably have been to some 180 Sotigs from the Dramatists. extent indebted to Eadoliffe's production. The story, how- ever, was well-known, and existed in other shapes ; Chaucer having long before rendered it familiar to BngUsh readers in the Canterbv/ry Tales', The date of the receipt in Hen- slowe's Diary — 19 December, 1599 — determines the date of the play from which the following songs are derived. aje SPleasant ffiomelis of ^patient eSfrtssell. SWEET CONTENT. Tf RT thou poor, yet liast thou golden slumbers ? -'*■ Oh, sweet content I Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed 1 Oh, punishment ! Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed To add to golden numbers, golden numbers ? 0, sweet content ! 0, sweet, &c. Work apace, apace, apace, apace ; Honest labour bears a lovely face j Then hey noney, noney, hey noney, noney. Canst drink the waters of the crisped Spring ? 0, sweet content ! Swimmest thou in wealth, yet sinkest in thine own 0, punishment ! [tears 1 Then he that patiently want's burden bears, No burden bears, but is a king, a king ! 0, sweet content ! &c. Work apace, apace, &c. GOLDEN slumbers Mss your eyes, Smiles awake you when you rise. Sleep, pretty wantons ; do not cry. And I wiU sing a lullaby ; Rock them, rock them, lullaby. John Webster. 181 Care is heavy, therefore sleep you ; You are care, and care must keep you. Sleep, pretty wantons ; do not cry, And I will sing a lullaby: Bock them, rock them, lullaby. BEAUTY, AKISEl BEAUTY, arise, shew forth thy glorious shining ; Thine eyes feed love, for them he standeth pining ; Honour and youth attend to do their duty To thee, their only sovereign beauty. Beauty, arise, whilst we, thy servants, sing, lo to Hymen, wedlock's jocund king, lo to Hymen, lo, lo, siag. Of wedlock, love, and youth, is Hymen king. Beauty, arise, thy glorious hghts display. Whilst we sing lo, glad to see this day. lo, lo, to Hymen, lo, lo, sing, Of wedlock, love, and youth, is Hymen king. JOHN WEBSTER. In passionate energy and intensity of expression Webster resembles Marston and transcends him. He had a pro- founder dramatic power, and possessed a command over the sources of terror which none of our dramatists have exhib- ited so effectively. ' To move a terror skUfuUy,' observes Lamb, ' to touch a soul to the qtdck, to lay upon fear as much as it can bear, to wear and weary a life till it is ready to drop, and then step in with mortal instruments to take its last forfeit : this only a Webster can do. Writers of an inferior genius may 'upon horror's head horrors accumu- late,' but they cannot do this. They mistake quantity for quality, they ' terrify babies with painted devils,' but they 182 Songs from the Dramatists. know not how a soul is capable of being moved ; their terrors want dignity, their afCrightments are without deco- rum. This criticism refers specially to the Duchess ofMalfy, but iudicates generally that peculiar quality of Webster's genius which chiefly distinguishes him from his contem- poraries. The earliest notice of Webster occurs in 1602. He is said to have been clerk of St. Andrew's, Holbom, and a member of the Merchants Tailors' Company; but Mr. Dyce could not discover any trace of his name, although he searched the registers of the church, and the MSS. belong- ing to the Parish Clerk's Hall. In tracing, in his collected edition of Webster's works, the order of his productions, and examining every collateral question of authorship likely to throw any light upon his identity, Mr. Dyce has supplied all the information that can be obtained respecting him. It relates almost exclusively to his writiugs. His personal history is buried in obscurity. W^t 2W1)ite JSebil; or, ITittoria €:oramI)ona. 161^. /TALL for the robin-redbreast and the wren, 'r Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of tmbtiried men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustaia no harm ; But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, For with his naUs he'U' dig them up again. 1 ' I never eaw anythiDg like tliis of the earth, earthy. Both have Dirge, except the Ditty which re- that intensenoBS of feeling, which minds Ferdinand of his drowned seems to resolve itself into the Father in the Tempest. As that elements which it contemplates.' is of the water, watery; so this is —Lamb. Jcihn Waster. 183 THE MADMAJT'S SONG. OLET us howl some heavy note, » Some deadly dogged howl, Sotmdmg, as from the threatning throat Of beasts and fatal fowl ! As ravens, screech-owls, bulls and bears, We'U bell, and bawl our parts, 'Till irksome noise have cloyed your ears, And corrosived your hearts, At last, whenas our quire wants breath, Our bodies being blessed, We'U sing, hke swans, will welcome death. And die in love and rest. THE PBBPABATION FOR BXBCTJTIOK. RAEK, now everything is stiU, The screech-owl, and the whistler shrill, Call upon our dame aloud. And bid her quickly don her shroud ! Much you had of land and rent ; Your length in clay's now competent : A long war disturbed your mind ; Here your perfect peace is signed. Of what is't fools make such vaia keeping % Since their conception, their birth weeping. Their life a general mist of error. Their death, a hideous storm of terror. Strew your hair with powders sweet, Don clean linen, bathe your feet. And (the foul fiend more to check,) A crucifix let bless your neck : 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day ; End your groan, and come away. 184 Songs from the Dramatists. JOHN WEBSTER AND "WILLIAM KOWLBY. Slje srjracian JlfflonBer. )661. woman's love. T OVB is a law, a discord of such force, -■-' That 'twixt our sense and reason makes divorce ; Love's a desire, tibat to obtain betime, We lose an age of years plucked from otir prime ; Love IS a thing to which we soon consent, As soon refuse, but sooner far repent. Then what must women be, that are the cause That love hath life? that lovers feel such laws 1 They're like the winds upon Lepanthse's shore, That still are changing : O, then love no more ! A woman's love is like that Syrian flower, That buds, and spreads, and withers in an hour. LOVE MUST HAVE LOVE. I CARE not for those idle toys, That must be wooed and prayed to. Come, sweet love, let's use the joys That men and women used to do. The first man had a woman Created for his use you know ; Then never seek so close to keep A jewel of a price so low. Delay in love's a lingering pain. That never can be cured ; Unless that love have love again, 'Tis not to be endured. Webster and Rowley. 185 THE PtTESDlT OP LOVE. ART thou gone in haste ? I'll not forsake thee ; Runnest thou ne'er so fast, I'll overtake thee : Over the dales, over the downs, Through the green meadows, From the fields through the towns, To the dim shadows. Ail along the plain, To the low fountains, Up and down again rrom the high mountains ; Echo then shaU again Tell her I follow, And the floods to the woods, Carry my hoUa, hoUa ! Cel la! ho! ho! hu! THE SONG OF JANtTABT. now does joUy Janus greet your merriment ; For since the world's creation, I never changed my fashion ; 'Tis good enough to fence the cold : My hatchet serves to cut my firing yearly, My bowl preserves the juice of grape and barley ; Fire, wine, and strong beer, make me live so long here To give the merry new year a welcome ia. All the potent powers of plenty wait upon You that intend to be frolic to-day : To Bacchus I commend ye, and Ceres eke attend ye. To keep encroaching cares away. That Boreas' blasts may never blow to harm yon ; Nor Hyems' frost, but give you cause to warm you: Old father Janevere drinks a health to all here. To give the merry new year a welcome in. 186 Songs from the Dramatists. THE DBPABTUKE OP JAUTJABT. CT INGE you desire my absence ; VP I will depart this green ; Though loath to leave the presence Of such a lovely queen ; Whose Beauty, like the sun, Melts all my frost away ; And now, instead of winter, Behold a youthful May. HOMAGE TO LOVE. LOVE'S a lovely lad His bringing-up is beauty ; Who loves him not is mad, For I must pay him duty ; Now I'm sad. Hail to those sweet eyes, That shine celestial wonder ; From thence do flames arise, Bum my poor heart asunder. Now it fries. Cupid sets a crown Upon those lovely tresses ; O, spoil not with a frown What he so sweetly dresses ! I'U sit down. HEIGH, HEIGHO ! 7TVHITHER shaU I go, '^ To escape your foUy ? For now there's love I know, Or else 'tis melancholy : Heigh, heigho ! Webster and Bowley. 187 Yonder lies the snow, But my heart cannot melt it : Love shoots from his bow, And my poor heart hath felt it. Heigh, heigho ! I'll never love more. OSTAY, turn, pity me. That sighs, that sues for love of thee ! O lack ! I never loved before j If you deny, I'U never love more. No hope, no help ! then wretched I Must lose, must lack, must pine, and die ; Since you neglect when I implore. Farewell, hard, I'll ne'er love more. BEWARE OF LOVE. CHERE is not any wise man, That fancy can a woman ; Then never turn your eyes on A thing that is so common : For be they foul or fair. They tempting devils are, Since they first fell ; They that love do live in heU, And therefore, men, beware. OUT UPON TE ALL ! FOOLISH, idle toys, That nature gave unto us. But to curb our joys. And only to undo us ; For since Lucretia's fall, There are none chaste at aU ; Or if perchance there be One in an empery, 188 Songs from the Dramatists. Some other malady Makes her far worse than she. Out upon ye all ! 'Twere too much to tell The f oUies that attend ye ; He must love you -well That can but discommend ye ; For your deserts are such, Man cannot rail too much ; Nor is the world so blind, But it may easily find The body, or the mind. Tainted La womanMnd. O, the devil take you all ! INVOCATION TO APOLLO. EAIE Apollo, whose bright beams Cheer all the world below : The birds that sing, the plants that spring, The herbs and flowers that grow : O, lend thy aid to a swain sore oppressed. That his mind Soon may find The delight that sense admits ! And by a maid let his harms be redressed, That no pain Do remain In his mind to o£Eend his wits ! SAMUEL ROWLEY. One of the players in the establishment of the Prince of Wales, and included in the list of Henslowe's authors. His principal pieces are the play from which the following song is taken, and a comedy called When you see me you hnow me. He also assisted other writers in some of the Moral Plays. TJiomas Goffe. 189 arje Noftle SpanCsJ) SolBier. )634. SOEROW. OH, sorrow, sorrow, say where dost thou dwell 1 In the lowest room of heU. Art thou bom of human race "i No, no, I have a f urier face. Art thou in city, town, or court ? I to every place resort. Oh, why into the world is sorrow sent 1 Men afflicted best repent. What dost thou feed on ? Broken sleep. What takest thou pleasure in ? To weep, To sigh, to sob, to pine, to groan, To wring my hands, to sit alone. Oh when, oh when shall sorrow quiet have ? Never, never, never, never. Never till she finds a grave. THOMAS GOFFE. 1592—1627. Thomas GtOPFE was bom in Essex, about 1592, and edu- cated at Westminster. In 1609 he entered Christ Church, Oxford, and having had the degree of bachelor of divinity conferred upon him, was preferred to the living of East Clandon, in Surrey, in 1623. He is said to have been a professed woman-hater, yet, notwithstanding, married the wife of his predecessor, who revenged the wrongs of the whole sex upon him by the violence of her temper, and finally, it is supposed, shortened his life. He died in 1627. He was the author of four dramas, and is believed in the latter part of his Ufe to have embraced the church of Rome. 190 Songs from the Dramatists. nurse's song. LULLABY, lullaby, baby, Great Argos' joy. The King of Greece thou art bom to be, to. despite of Troy. Kest ever wait upon thy head, Sleep close thine eyes, The blessed guard tend on thy bed Of deities. O, how this brow will beseem a crown ! How these locks will shine ! Like the rays of the sun on the ground. These locks of thine ! The nurse of heaven will send thee milk ; Mayst thou suck a Queen. Thy drink love's nectar, and clothes of silk ; A god mayst thou seem. Cupid sit on this rosean cheek. On these ruby lips. May thy mind like a lamb be meek. In the vales which trips. Lullaby, lullaby, baby, &c. THE MADNESS OF ORESTES. TTVEEP, weep, you Argonauts, "-' Bewail the day That first to fatal Troy You took your way. Weep, Greece, weep, Greece, Two kings are dead. Argos, thoii Argos, now a grave Where kings are burifed ; No heir, no heir is left, Thomas Goffe. 191 But one that's mad. See, Argos, hast not thou Cause to be sad 1 Sleep, sleep, wild brain. Rest, rock thy sense. Live if thou canst To grieve for thy offence. Weep, weep, you Argonauts ! Cjje are not. Mernly, &c. EJe Hohev's iWelaitcJols, )63S. PLY HENCE, SHADOWS ! FLT hence, shadows, that do keep Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep ! Though the eyes be overtaken, Tet the heart doth ever waken Thoughts, chained up in busy snares Of continual woes and cares : Love and griefs are so expressed, As they rather sigh than rest. Fly hence, shadows, that do keep Watchful sorrows, charmed ia sleep. Ej)e JSroften J^eart. 1633. BEAUTY BEYOND THE REACH OP ART. /7AN you paint a thought ? or number V^ Every fancy ia a slumber ? Can you count soft minutes roving Prom a dial's point by moving ? Can you grasp a sigh 1 or, lastly, Eob a virgin's honour chastely 1 No, oh no ! yet you may Sooner do both that and this. This and that, and never miss. Than by any praise display 210 Songs from the DramaMsts. Beauty's beauty ; suoh a glory. As beyond all fate, all story. All anus, all arts, All loves, all hearts. Greater than those, or they. Do, shall, and must obey. BBIDAI. SONG. /70MF0RTS lasting, loves encreaedng, >^ Like soft hours never ceasing ; Plenty's pleasure, peace eompljrang, Without jars, or tongues envying ; Hearts by holy union wedded, More than theirs by custom bedded ; Fruitful issues ; life so graced, Not by age to be defaced ; Buddmg as the year ensu'th. Every spring another youth : All what thought can add beside, Crown this Bridegroom and this Bride ! LOVE IS EVEE DTINa. OH, no more, no more, too late Sighs are spent ; the burning tapers Of a life as chaste as fate, Pure as are unwritten papers, Are burned out : no heat, no light Now remains ; 'tis ever night. Love is dead ; let lover's eyes, Looked ia endless dreams, The extremes of all extremes. Ope no more, for now Love dies. Now Uve dies, — ^implyiug Love's martyrs must be ever, ever dying. John Ford. 211 GLORIES, pleasures, pomps, deligMs and ease, Can. but please The outward senses, when the mind Is or untroubled, or by peace refined. Crowns may flourish and decay, Beauties shine, but fade away. Youth may revel, yet it must Lie down in a bed of dust. Earthly honours flow and waste, Time alone doth change and last. Sorrows mingled with contents, prepare Rest for care ; Love only reigns in death ; though art Can find no comfort for a broken heart. Btie Ea&s's arctal. ]6SS. LOSE NOT OPPOBTOTflTY. PLEASURES, beauty, youth attend ye. Whilst the spring of nature lasteth ; Love and melting thoughts befriend ye, Use the time, ere winter hasteth. Active blood, and free delight. Place and privacy invite. Do, do ! be kind as fair. Lose not opportunity for air. She is cruel that denies it, Bounty best appears in granting ; Stealth of sport as soon supplies it, Whilst the dues of love are wanting. Here's the sweet exchange of bUss, When each whisper proves a Mss. In the game are felt no pains. For in all the lover gains. 212 Songs from the Dramatists. SIR JOHN STJCKLING. 1608—1642. The animal spirits and gallantry of Suckling are charm- ingly sustained in these songs. Nothing in verse can be more airy or sparkUng. They have in them the brightest and finest elements of youth — manliness and gaiety, wit, grace, and refinement. In this class of light and sprightly lyrics, of which he may be considered the founder, he is unrivalled. The comparison between him and Waller is infinitely in favour of Suckling, whose ease and vivacity offer a striking contrast to the elaborate finish and careful filigree of Waller. He writes, also, more like a man of blood and high breeding. His luxurious taste and voluptuousness are native to him ; while in Waller there is always the effort of art, and the consciousness of the fine gentleman. THE PINING LOVER. yjVHY so pale and wan, fond lover ? *^ Prithee why so pale 9 Win, when looking well can't move her. Looking iU prevail ? Prithee why so pale 1 Why so duU and mute, young sinner ? Prithee why so mute ? Will, when speaking well can't win her. Saying nothing do't t Prithee why so mute f Quit, quit, for shame ; this will not move, This cannot take her ; If of herself she wiU not love, Nothing can make her : The devil take her. Sir John Suckling. 213 TRUE LOVE. no, no, fair heretic, it needs must be But an ill love in me, And worse for thee ; For were it in my power To love thee now this hour More than I did the last ; 'Twould then so faU, I might not love at all ; Love that can flow, and can admit increase, Admits as well an ebb, and may grow less. True love is still the same ; the torrid zones, And those more frigid ones It must not know : For love grown cold or hot, Is lust, or friendship, not The thing we have. For that's a flame would die Held down, or up too high : Then thinTr I love more than I can express, And would love more, could I but love thee less. SSrentuvalt. ]639. A TOAST. Cr HE'S pretty to walk with : VP And witty to talk with : And pleasant too to think on. But the best use of all Is, her health is a stale, ' And helps us to make us drink on. THE VIRTUE OP DEINKINa. /70ME let the state stay, V And drink away, 1 A snare or decoy. 214 Songs from the Bramatists. There is no bxisiness above it : It warms the cold brain, Makes us speak in high strain ; He's a fool that does not approve it. The Macedon youth Left behind him this truth, That nothing is done with much thinking ; He drunk, and he fought, Tin he had what he sought, The world was his own by good drinMag. S$e &MiV3. ]646. FILL it up, fill it up to the brink, When the poets cry clink. And the pockets chink, Then 'tis a merry world. To the best, to the best, have at her. And the deuce take the woman-hater:— The prince of darkness is a geutleman, Mahu, Mahu is his name. 2t])e £ati ®ne. PICKLE AOT) FALSE. RAST thou seen the down in the air, When wanton blasts have tossed it ? Or the ship on the sea. When ruder winds have crossed it ? Hast thou marked the crocodile's weeping. Or the fox's sleeping 9 Or hast thou viewed the peacock in his pride, Or the dove by his bride. When he courts for his lechery ? Oh! so flickle, oh! so vain, oh! so false, so false is she! 215 WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT. 1611—1643. It was of 'William Cartwiight Ben Jonson said, ' My son, Cartwright -writes like a man.' He has not left much behind to justify this eulogium ; but his minor poems exhibit eyl- denoes of taste and scholarship which sufficiently explain the esteem and respect in which he was held by his con- temporaries. His father, after spending a fortune, was re- duced to the necessity of keeping an inn at Cirencester; but the son, obtaining a king's scholarship, was enabled to enter Westminster School, and from thence was elected a student of Christ Church, Oxford. He afterwards went into holy orders, and in 1643 was chosen junior proctor of the University. He is said to have studied sixteen hours a day, was an accomplished linguist, and added to his other graces a handsome person. A malignant fever that prevailed at Oxford seized upon Viirn in 1643, and terminated his life in the thirty-second year of his age. THE PHILOSOPHy 01" EATING. CHEN our music is in prime, When our teeth keep triple time ; Hungry notes are fit for knells. May lankness be No guest to me : The bag-pipe sounds when that it swells. May lankness, &c. A mooting-night brings wholesome smiles, When John-a-Nokes and John-a-Stiles Do grease the lawyer's satin. A reading day Frights French away, The benchers dare speak Latin. A reading, &e. 216 Songs from the Dramatists. He that's full doth verse compose ; Hunger deals in Slillen prose : Take notice and discard her. The empty spit Ne'er cherished wit ; Minerva loves the larder. The empty spit, &o. First to breakfast, then to dine, Is to conquer BeUarmine : Distinctions then are budding. Old SutdifPs wit Did never hit, But after his bag-pudding. Old SutclifPs wit, &c. PHINEAS FLETCHER. 1584—1650. The author of the Purple Island and the Piscatory Ec- logues. His out-of-door poetry is his best, and frequently recalls the sweetness and luxuriance of Spenser, and of Ms own namesake and cousin, the dramatic poet. Phineas was what honest Walton would have called 'a true brother of the nangle,' and Ms master-passion betrays itself in the most unexpected places. It appears even in the characters and subject of Ms only dramatic work, wMch he describes on the title-page as A Piscatory. me Siiceiaes. ]6]4. LOVE is the sire, dam, nurse, and seed Of all that air, earth, waters breed. All these earth, water, air, and fire. Though contrajries, in love conspire. Phineas Fletcher. 217 Fond painters, love is not a lad With bow, and shafts, and feathers clad, As he is fancied in the brain , Of some loose loving idle swain. Much sooner is he felt than seen ; Substance subtle, slight and thin, Oft leaps he from the glancing eyes ; Oft in some smooth moimt he lies ; Soonest he wins, the fastest flies ; Oft lurks he 'twixt the ruddy hps, Thence, while the heart his nectar sips, Down to the soul the poison slips ; Oft in a voice creeps down the ear ; Oft hides his darts in golden hair ; Oft blushiug cheeks do light his fires ; Oft ia a smooth soft skin retires ; Often iu smiles, often ia tears, His flaming heat in water bears ; When nothing else kindles desire, Even virtue's self shall blow the fire. Love with a thousand darts abounds. Surest and deepest virtue wounds. Oft himsett becomes a dart. And love with love doth love impart. Thou painful pleasure, pleasing pain, Thou gainful life, thou losing gain, Thou bitter sweet, easing disease, How dost thou by displeasing please 1 How dost thou thus bewitch the heart. To love in hate, to joy in smart. To think itself most bound when free. And freest in its slavery ? Every creature is thy debtor ; None but loves, some worse, some better. Only in love they happy prove Who love what most deserves their love. 10 218 Songs from the Dramatists. "WILLIAM HABJNGTON. 1605—1654. William Habinqton is not generally known as a drama- tist. His poetical reputation rests on a volume of verses called Castara, divided into three parts, the first and second addressed to his wife before and after marriage, and the third to religious subjects. The play from which this song is taken is his only dramatic work, and the song itself, which has something of the nonchalance and freedom of Suckling, without his airiness, is the happiest passage it contains, Ste (fSiueen of ^tragon. INDIFFERENCE. FINE young folly, though you were That fair beauty I did swear, Yet you ne'er could reach my heart : For we courtiers leam at school, Only with your sex to fool ; You are not worth the serious part. When I sigh and Mss your hand, Cross my arms, and wondering stand, Holding parley with your eye. Then dilate on my desires, Swear the sun ne'er shot such fires — All is but a handsome he. When I eye your curl or lace, Gentle soul, you think your face Straight some murder doth commit ; And your virtue doth begin To grow scrupulous of my sin. When I talk to shew my wit. Barten Holiday. 219 Therefore, madam, wear no cloud, Nor to check my love gro-w proud j In sooth I much do doubt, 'Tis the powder in your hair. Not your breath, perfumes ttie air. And yoiir clothes that set you out. Yet though truth has this confessed. And I Yow I love in jest, When I next begin to court, And protest an amorous flame, Tou will swear I in earnest am : Bedlam ! this is pretty sport. BARTEN HOLIDAY. 1661. Baeten Holiday was bom in tlie latter end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, became at an early age a student of Christ Church College, Oxford, entered orders in 1615, and was appointed archdeacon of the diocese of Oxford. He died in 1661. Langbaine says that he was 'a general scholar, a good preacher, a skilful philosopher, and an ex- cellent poet.' He translated Juvenal and Persius, and pub- lished numerous sermons. The singular drama which sup- phes the following lively song is allegorical, the characters forming a sort of commonwealth of the arts and sciences. In order to give the true reUsh to this vagrant ditty it should be observed that it is sung by a humorous serving- man, dressed, according to the stage directions, ' in a pale russet suit, on the back whereof is expressed one filling a pipe of tobacco, his hat set round with tobaooo-pipes, with a can of drink hanging at his girdle.' 220 Songs from the Dramatists. Sreptotamia j or, STJe jUaarrfafle oe tje arts. J639. TOBACCO. TOBACCO'S a Musician, And ia a pipe delighteth ; It descends ia a close, Through the organs of the nose. With a relish that iaviteth. This makes me sing So ho, ho ; So ho, ho, boys, Ho boys, sound I loudly ; Earth ne'er did breed Such a jovial weed, "Whereof to boast so proudly. Tobacco is a Lawyer, His pipes do love long cases. When our brains it enters. Our feet do make indentures, While we seal with stamping paces. This makes me sing, &e. Tobacco's a Physician, Good both for sound and sickly ; 'Tis a hot perfume That expels cold rheum. And makes it flow down quickly. This makes me sing, &c. Tobacco is a Traveller, Come from the Indies hither ; It passed sea and land. Ere it came to my hand, And 'scaped the wind and weather. This makes me sing, &c. Tobacco is a Critic, That still old paper turneth. Whose labour and care Is as smoke in the air That ascends from a rag when it burneth. This makes me sing, &c. James Shirley. 221 Tobacco's an ignis fatuns — A fat and flery vapour, That leads men about TiU the Are be out, Consuming like a taper. This makes me sing, &e. Tobacco is a Whiffler, And cries huff snufE with fury ; His pipe's his club and link ; He's wiser that does drink ; Thus armed I fear not a fury. This makes me sing, &c. JAMES SHIRLEY. 1596—1666. With Shirley termiaates the roll of the great writers whose works form a distinct era ia our dramatic Uteratiire. He was the last of a race of giants. Bom in the reign of Ehzaheth, he lived to witness the Restoration, and carried down to the time of Charles I. the moral and poetical elements of the age of Shakespeare. New modes and a new language set in with the Restoration ; and the line that sep- arates Shirley from his immediate successors is as clearly defined and as broadly marked as if a centinry had elapsed between them. Shirley was educated at Merchant-Tailors' School, and from thence removed to St. John's College, Oxford, which he afterwards left to complete his collegiate course at Cam- bridge. Having entered holy orders, he was appointed to a living at or near St. Albans, in Hertfordshire ; but subse- quently renounced his ministry, in consequence of having embraced the doctrines of the Church of Rome. For a short time he found occupation as a teacher in a grammar- school, a life of drudgery which he soon relinquished to 222 Songs from the DramaUsts. become a writer for the stage. He produced altogether thirty-three plays ; and not the least remarkable eircum- stanee connected with them is that, instead of going to other sources for his plots, he invented nearly the whole of them. Vigour and variety of expression, and richness of imagery are amongst his conspicuous merits ; and, making reasonable allowance for occasional confusion in the imbro- glio of his more complicated fables, arising, no doubt, from hasty composition, the action of his dramas is generally con- trived and evolved with considerable skill. Shirley died in 1666. Wood tells us that the fire of London drove Tiiin and his wife from their residence near Fleet-street into the parish of St. Giles's-in-the-Fields, and that the alarm and losses they sustained took so severe an effect upon them that they both died on the same day. 3Labe aTvicfta. )6S4. SHEPHERDS AST} SHEPHERDESSES. TTVOODMEN, shepherds, come away, "-' This is Pan's great holiday, Throw off cares, With your heaven-aspiring airs Help ns to sing, While valleys with your echoes ring. Nymphs that dwell within these groves Leave your arbours, bring your loves, Gather posies. Crown your golden hair with roses ; As you pass Foot like fairies on the grass. Joy crown our bowers ! Philomel, Leave of Tereus' rape to tell. Let trees dance. As they at Thracian l37re did once ; Mountains play, This is the shepherds' hohday. James Shirley. 223 Ej)c !!l®itt2 ffvAx ©ne. ]63S. love's hue aud obt. TN Love's name you are charged hereby *■ To make a speedy hue and cry, After a face, who f other day, Came and stole m.y heart away ; For your direotions in brief These are best marks to know fhe thief : Her hair a net of beams would prove, Strong enough to captive Jove, Playing the eagle ; her clear brow Is a comely field of snow. A sparkling eye, so pure a gray As when it shines it needs no day. Ivory dweUeth on her nose ; Lilies, married to the rose. Have made her cheek the nuptial bed ; Her Hps betray their virgin red, As they only blushed for this. That they one another Mss ; But observe, beside the rest, Tou shall know this felon best By her tongue ; for if your ear Shall once a heavenly music hear, Such as neither gods nor men But from that voice shall hear again, That, that is she, oh, take her t'ye, None can rock heaven asleep but she. THE fool's song.' AMONG- all sorts of people The matter if we look well to ; 1 In tMa song, Shirley follows motley by Ben Jonson See ante, closely a similar exaltation of tlie p. 114. 224 Songs from the Dramatists. The fool is the best, he from the rest Will cany away the beU too. All places he is free of, And foots it without blushing At masks and plays, is not the ba3rs Thrust out, to let the plush in 1 Your fool is fine, he's merry. And of all men doih fear least, At every word he jests with my lord. And tickles my lady in earnest : The fool doth pass the guard now, He'U. kiss his hand, and leg it, When wise men prate, and forfeit their state, Who but the fine fool will beg it ? He without fear can walk in The streets that are so stony ; Your gallant sneaks, your merchant breaks. He's a fool that does owe no money. Sfie STriumiiib »{ $eace. 1633. THE BBEASraG UP OP THE MASQUE. /TOME away, away, away, H^ See the dawning of the day, Risen from the murmuring streams ; Some stars show with sickly beams. What stock of flame they are allowed. Each retiring to a cloud ; Bid your active sports adieu. The morning else will blush for you. Ye feather-footed hours run To dress the chariot of the sun ; Harness the steeds, it quicMy wiU Be time to mount the eastern hill. The lights grow pale with modest fears, Lest you offend their saored ears James Shirley. 225 And eyes, that lent you all this grace ; Retire, retire, to your own place. And as you move from that blest pair, Let each heart kneel, and think a prayer. That all, that can make up the glory Of good and great may flU their story. St. $atrtcft fov fitelana. ]64e. UAS& caee! T NEITHER will lend nor borrow, ■^ Old age win be here to-morrow ; This pleasure we are made for, When death comes all is paid for : No matter what's the biU of fare, I'U take my cup, I'U take no care. Be wise, and say you had warning, To laugh is better than learning; To wear no clothes, not neat is ; But hunger is good where meat is : Give me wine, give m^e a wench. And let her parrot talk in French. It is a match worth the making, To keep the merry- thought waking; A song is better than fasting. And sorrow's not worth the tasting : Then keep your brain light as you can, An ounce of care will Mil a man. S]ie ^rcaDta. ]640. CUPID'S SEABOH FOR HIS MOTHER. T^ELL me tidings of my mother, ^ Shepherds, and be Cupid's brother. Down from heaven we came together : With swan's speed came she not hither ? 10a 226 Songs from the Dramatists. But what lady have I spied 9 Jiist so was my mother eyed ; Such her smiles wherein I dwelt ; In those lips have I been felt ; Those the pUlows of her breast, Which gave Cupid so much rest : 'Tis she, 'tis she ! make holiday, Shepherds, carol, dance, and play. 'Tis Venus, it can be no other ; Cupid now has found his mother ! QtM^ta anh 3Beat;). 16S3. THE COMMON DOOM. YICTOEIOUS men of earth, no more Proclaim how wide your empires are ; Though you bind in every shore, And your triumphs reach as far As night or day. Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey, And mingle with forgotten ashes, when Death calls ye to the crowd of common men. Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, Each able to undo mankind, Death's servile emissaries are ; Nor to these alone confined. He hath at will More quaint and subtle ways to Mil ; A smile or kiss, as he will use the art. Shall have the cunning sldU to break a heart. LOVE AND DEATH. ^HANG-E, oh change your fatal bows, V Since neither knows The virtue of each other's darts ! Alas, what wiU become of hearts ! James Shirley. 227 If it prove A death to love, We shaU find Death will be cruel to be kind : For when he shall to armies fly, Where men think blood too cheap to buy Themselves a name, He reconciles them, and deprives The valiant men of more than lives, A victory and fame : Whilst Love, deceived by these cold shafts, instead Of curing wounded hearts, must kill indeed. Take pity, gods ! some ease the world will find To give young Cupid eyes, or strike Death blind : Death should not then have his own will, And Love, by seeing men bleed, leave off to kUl. Siie ®antentEon ot ^faic anii SSlgsses. 1639. THE EQUAIITT OP THE GRAVE.* THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantia.1 things j There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down. And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kiU; But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late, They stoop to fate. And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. 1 TMs la said to bare been a favourite song ol Charles II. 228 Songs from the Dramatists. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more yonr mighty deeds ; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victun bleeds : Your heads must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust. SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. 1605—1668. If we cannot discover in the tedious poem of Gondibert any satisfactory evidence of that illustrious descent implied by the insinuation of Wood, the following songs might justify a suspicion of Davenant's poetical lineage. The character of Davenant's verse is by no means Shake- sperean ; but there is a spirit in these pieces not unworthy of such a paternity. They possess an energy ' That like a tnunpet makes the Bpirits dance.* The bounding versification fills the ear with music ; and they are distinguished by a breadth of treatment and knowl- edge of effect seldom so successfully displayed within such restricted limits. STbe Siieae of 3Elf)otres. WOMEN PBEPABING FOR WAR. LET us Uve, live ! for, being dead. The pretty spots, Ribbons and knots. And the fine French dress for the head. No lady wears upon her In the cold, cold bed of honour. Beat down our grottos, and hew down our bowers. Dig up our arbours, and root up our flowers ; Sir William Davenant. 229 Our gardens are bulwarks and bastions become; Then hang up our lute, we must sing to the drum. Our patches and our curls, So exact in each station, Our powders and our purls, Are now out of fashion. Hence with our needles, and give us your spades ; We, that were ladies, grow coarse as our maids. Our coaches have driven us to balls at the court. We now must drive barrows to earth up the fort. JEALOUSY. inHIS cursed jealousy, what is't 1 ^ 'Tis love that has lost itself in a mist ; 'Tis love being frighted out of his wits ; 'Tis love that has a fever got ; Love that is violently hot, But troubled with cold and trembling fits. 'Tis yet a more unnatural evil: 'Tis the god of love, 'tis the god of love, possessed with a devU. 'Tis rich corrupted wine of love. Which sharpest vinegar does prove ; From all the sweet flowers which might honey make, It does a deadly poison bring : Strange serpent which itself doth sting ! It never can sleep, and dreams still awake ; It stulEs up the marriage-bed with thorns. It gores itself, it gores itself, with imagined horns. Srjc janfortunat* SLobres. R love's lottebt. UN to love's lottery ! Run, maids, and rejoice : When, drawing your chance, you meet your own choice ; 230 Songs from the Dramatists. And boast that your luck yott help -with design, By praying cross-legged to Old Bishop Valentine. Hark, hark ! a prize is drawn, and trumpets sound ! Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra ! Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra ! Hark maids ! more lots are drawn ! prizes abound. Dub ! dub a, dub a, dub 1 the drum now beats ! And, dub a, dub a, dub, echo repeats ; As if at night the god of war had made Love's queen a skirmish for a serenade. Haste, haste, fair maids, and come away ! The priest attends, your bridegrooms stey. Boses and pinks wiU be strewn where you go ; Whilst I walk in shades of wUlow, willow. When I am dead let him that did stay me Be but so good as kindly to lay me There where neglected lovers mourn. Where lamps and hallowed tapers bum, Where clerks in quires sad dirges sing, Where sweetly bells at burials ring. My rose of youth is gone Withered as soon as blown ! Lovers go ring my knell ! Beauty and love farewell ! And lest virgins forsaken Should, perhaps, be mistaken In seeking my grave, alas ! let them know I he near a sliade of willow, willow. THE OOQTJBT. '■T^IS, in good truth, a most wonderful thing ^ (I am even ashamed to relate it) That love so many vexations should bring, And yet few have the wit to hate it. Sir William Davenant. 231 Love's weather in maids should seldom hold fair : Like April's mine shall quickly alter ; III give him to-night a lock of my hair, To whom next day 111 send a halter. I cannot abide these malapert males, Pirates of love, who know no duty ; Yet love with a storm can take down their sails, And they must strike to Admiral Beauty. Farewell to that maid who will he undone. Who in markets of men (where plenty Is cried up and down) wiU die even for one ; I will live to make fools of twenty. Utie 3ln\a Against Hobets. LOVE PBOSCBIBED. yjVAKE all the dead ! what ho ! what ho ! *«" How soimdly they sleep whose pillows lie low 1 They mind not poor lovers who walk above On the decks of the world in storms of love. No whisper now nor glance shall pass Through wickets or through panes of glass ; For our windows and doors are shut and barred. Lie close in the church, and in the churchyard. In every grave make room, make room ! The world's at an end, and we come, we come. The state is now love's foe, love's foe ; Has seized on his arms, his quiver and bow ; Has pinioned his wiags, and fettered his feet, Because he made way for lovers to meet. But O sad chance, his judge was old ; Hearts cruel grown, when blood grows cold. No man being young, his process woidd draw. O heavens that love should be subject to law ! Lovers go woo the dead, the dead ! Lie two in a grave, and to bed, to bed ! 232 Songs from the Dramatists. A DRINKING EOUND. T^HE bread is all baked, ^ The embers are raked ; 'Tis midnight now by chanticleer's first crowing ; Let's kindly carouse "Whilst 'top of the house The cats fall out in the heat of their wooing. Time, whilst thy hour-glass does run out. This flowiag glass shall go about. Stay, stay, the nurse is waked, the child does cry. No song so ancient is as luUa-by. The cradle's rocked, the child is hushed again. Then hey for the maids, and ho for the men. Now every one advance his glass ; Then aU at once together clash ; Experienced lovers know This clashing does but shew, That, as in music, so in love must be Some discord to make up a harmony. Sing, sing ! When crickets sing why should not we ? The crickets were merry before us ; They sung us thanks ere we made them a fire. They taught us to sing in a chorus : The chimney's their church, the oven their quire. Once more the cock cries cock-a-doodle-doo. The owl cries o'er the bam, to-whit-to-whoo ! Benighted travellers now lose their way Whom WiQ-of-the-wisp bewitches : About and about he leads them astray Through bogs, through hedges, and ditches. Hark ! hark ! the cloister bell is rung ! Alas ! the midnight dirge is sung. Let 'em ring. Let 'em sing, Markham and Sampson. 233 Whilst we spend the night ia love and in laughter. When night is gone, O then too soon The discords and cares of the day come after. Come boys ! a health, a health, a double health To those who 'scape from care by shunning wealth. Dispatch it away Before it be day, 'TwUl quicHy grow early when it is late : A health to thee, To him, to me, To all who beauty love, and business hate. Stj)e Cnwl JSrotJer. GRIEVE NOT FOB THE PAST. 7TVEEP no more for what is past, *^ For time in motion makes such haste He hath no leisure to descry Those errors which he passeih by. If we consider accident. And how repugnant unto sense It pays desert with bad event. We shall disparage Providence. GEEVASE MAEKHAM AND "WILLIAM SAMPSON. These writers helong to the time of Charles I., in whose service Markham bore a captain's eommission. He was a writer of some authority in his day on agrioulttire and hus- bandry. Of Sampson nothing is known except that he was the author of two plays, and assisted Markham in the piece from which the following song is taken. 234 Songs from the Dramatists. ^eroo antr ^nt(]iater, SIMPLES TO SELL. /TOME will you buy ? for I have here V' The rarest gums that ever were ; Gold is but dross, and features die, Else ^sculapius teUs a lie. But I Come will you buy ? Have medicines for that malady. Is there a lady in this place, Would not be masked, but for her face t O do not blush, for here is that Will maie your pale cheeks plump and fat. Then why Should I thus cry, And none a scruple of me buy ? Come buy, you lusty gallants. These simples which I sell ; In all your days were never seen like these, For beauty, strength, and smell. Here's the king-cup, the pansy with the violet, The rose that loves the shower. The wholesome giUiflower, Both the cowslip, lily, And the daffodilly. With a thousand ia my power. Here's golden amaranthus, That true love can provoke. Of horehound store, and poisoning helebore. With the poUpode of the oak ; Here's chaste vervine, and lustful eringo. Health preserving sage, And rue which cures old age. With a world of others. Making fruitful mothers ; All these attend me as my page. 235 JASPER MAYNE. 1604—1672. Dr. Jasper Matne -vras a distinguished preacher in the time of Charles I., and held two livings in the gift of the University of Oxford, from which he was expelled under the Commonwealth. At the Restoration, however, he was not only re-appointed to his former benefice, but made chaplain in ordinary to his Majesty, and archdeacon of Chichester. Dr. Mayne is said to have been a clergyman of the most exemplary character ; but there is an anecdote related of him which, if true, shows that he was also a practical humorist. He had an old servant to whom he bequeathed a trunk, which he told him contained something that would make him drink after his death. When the trunk was opened on the Doctor's demise, it was found to contain — a red-herring. SCjje ffiCtg IttatcJ. THE WONDERFUL FISH. TTVE show no monstrous crocodile, *-^ Nor any prodigy of Nile ; No Remora that stops your fleet, Like Serjeant's gallants in the steeet ; No sea-horse which can trot or pace, Or swim false gallop, post, or race : For crooked dolphins we not care. Though on their back a fiddler were : The like to this fish, which we shew, Was ne'er in Fish-street, old, or new j Nor ever served to the sheriff's board. Or kept ia souse for the Mayor Lord. Had old astronomers but seen This fish, none else in heaven had been. 236 Songs from the Dramatists. SIR SAMUEL TUKB. 1673. C^ MISTAKEN KINDNESS. f AN Luciamira so mistake, To persuade me to fly '! 'Tis cruel kind for my own sake, To counsel me to die ; Like those faiut souls, wto cheat themselves of breath, And die for fear of death. Siuoe Love's the principle of hfe. And you the object loved. Let's, Luciamira, end this strife, I cease to be removed. We know not what they do, are gone from hence. But here we love by sense. If the Platonics, who would prove Souls without bodies love, Had, with respect, well understood, The passions iu the blood, They had suffered bodies to have had their part, And seated love in the heart. SIR WILLIAM KELLiaREW. 1605—1693. SeUntrva. THE HAPPY HOUR. /70ME, come, thou glorious object of my sight, 'r Oh my joy ! my hfe, my only delight ! May this glad minute be Blessed to eternity. John Dryden. 237 See how the glimmering tapers of the sky. Do gaze, and wonder at our constancy, How they crowd to hehold ! What OTir arms do infold ! How all do envy our felicities ! And grudge the triumphs of Selindra's eyes : How Cynthia seeks to shroud Her crescent in yon cloud ! Where sad night puts her sable mantle on, Thy light mistakiag, hasteth to be gone ; Her gloomy shades give way, As at the approach of day; And all the planets shrink, in doubt to be Eehps^d by a brighter deity. Look, oh look! How the small Lights do fall, And adore, What before The heavens have not shown, Nor their god-heads known ! Such a faith, Such a love As may move From above To descend ; and remain Amongst mortals again. JOHN DEYDEN. 1631—1700. The songs scattered tlorough Dryden's plays are strikmgly inferior to the rest of his poetry. Tlie confession he makes in one of his dedications that in writing for the stage he 238 Songs from the Dramatists. consulted the taste of tte audiences and not his own, and that, looking at the results, he was equally ashamed of the public and himself, applies with special force to his songs. They seem for the most part to have been thrown ofE merely to fill up a situation, or produce a transitory efEect, without reference to substance, art, or beauty, in their structure. Like nearly all pieces written expressly for music, the con- venience of the composer is consulted in many of them rather than the judgment of the poet, although the world had a right to expect that the genius of Dryden would have vindicated itself by reconciling both. Some of the verses designed on this principle undoubtedly exhibit remarkable skill in accommodating the diction and rhythm to the demands of the air ; and, however .indifferent they may be in perusal, it can be easily understood how effective their breaks, repetitious, and sonorous words (sometimes without much meaning in them) must have been in the delivery. Dryden descended to the smallest things with as much suc- cess as he soared to the highest; and, if he had cared to bestow any pains upon such compositions, two or three of the following specimens are sufficient to show with what a subtle fancy and melody of versification he might have enriched this department of our poetical literature. Many of the songs are stained with the grossness that defiled the whole drama of the Eestoration. Others are metrical commonplaces not worth transplantation. From the nature of the subjects, the selection is necessarily scanty, although Dryden's plays yield a more plentiful crop of lyrics of various kinds than those of any of his contem- poraries. A larger collection might have been made, but that numerous songs, otherwise unobjectionable, are so closely interwoven with the business of the scene as to be inseparable from the dialogue. Of this character is the greater part of the opera of Albion and Albarms, and nearly the whole of the lyrical version of the Tempest, a work in which Dryden appears to greater disadvantage than in any other upon which he was ever engaged. John Dryden. 239 SCiie Sntrian (Qiuten. ]664. INOAIJTATION. YOU twice ten hundred deities, To whom we daily sacrifice ; You Powers that dwell with fate below, And see what men are doomed to do, Where elements in discord dwell ; Then Grod of Sleep arise and tell Great Zemppalla what strange fate Must on her dismal vision wait. By the croaking of the toad, In their caves that make abode ; Earthy Dun that pants for breath, With her swelled sides fuU of death ; By the crested adders' pride, That along the chfts do ghde; By thy visage fierce and black ; By the death's head on thy back ; By the twisted serpents placed For a girdle round thy waist ; By the hearts of gold that deck Thy breast, thy shoulders, and thy neck : From thy sleepy mansion rise, And open thy xmwiUing eyes. While bubbling springs their music keep, That use to lull thee in thy sleep. SONG OF THE AERIAL SPIRITS. )00R mortals, that are clogged with earth below, Sink under love and care, While we, that dwell in air, Such heavy passions never know. Why then shoidd mortals be Unwilling to be free From blood, that sullen cloud, Which shining souls does shroud ? 240 Songs from the Dramatists. Then they'll shew bright. And like us light, When leaving bodies with their care, They slide to us and air. ffifie KtiBian iSmperor. 166S. THE FOLLY OF MAKING TE0T7BLKS. AH fading joy ! how quickly art thou past ! Yet we thy ruin haste. As if the cares of human life were few, We seek out new : And foUow fate, which would too fast pursue. See how on every bough the birds express In their sweet notes their happiness. They aU enjoy and nothing spare, But on their mother nature lay their care : Why then shoidd man, the lord of all below, Such, troubles choose to know. As none of aU his subjects undergo ? Hark, hark, the waters, fall, fall, fall, And with a murmuring sound Dash, dash, upon the ground To gentle slumbers call. J&ectet Slobe } or, ^ije ittaften ®.ucen, )667. CONCEALED LOVE. T PEED a flame within, which so torments me, A That it both pains my heart, and yet contente me : 'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it. That I had rather die, than once remove it. Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it ; My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it. Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses. But they fall silently, like dew on roses. John Dryden. 241 ThUBj to prevent my love from being eruel, My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel : And While I suffer this to give him quiet, My faith rewards my love, though he deny it. On hid eyes will I gaze, and there delight me ; While I conceal my love no frown can fright me : To be more happy, I dare not aspire ; Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher. Sit JMCattin J|«ar=9Hl} or, ^^e ffelsnUi Knnocmcc. )667. DEEP IN LOVE. BLIND love, to this hour. Had ne'er, like me, a slave under his power : Then blessed be the dart. That he threw at my heart ; For nothing can prove A joy so great, as to be wounded with love. My days, and my nights. Are filled to the pmrpose with sorrows and frights : Prom my heart stiU I sigh. And my eyes are ne'er dry ; So that, Cupid be praised, I am to the top of love's happiness raised. My soul's all on fire. So that I have the pleasure to dote and desire : Such a pretty soft paia. That it tickles each vein j 'Tis the dream of a smart, [heart. Which makes me breathe short, when it beats at my Sometimes, in a pet, When I'm despised, I my freedom would get : But straight a sweet smile Does my anger beguile. And my heart does recal ; Then the more I do struggle, the lower I fall. 11 242 Songs from the Dramatists. Heaven does not impart Such a grace as to love unto every one's heart ; For many may -wish To be wounded, and miss : Then blessed be love's fire, And more blessed her eyes, that first taught me desire. arSKsnnJc aote} ov, We ajlosal Jttartsr. J669. ST. CATHEBINB ASLEEP. "VZOU pleasing dreams of love and sweet delight, '^ Appear before this slumbering Virgin's sight : Soft visions set her free From mournful piety ; Let her sad thoughts from heaven retire ; And let the melancholy love Of those remoter joys above Give place to your more sprightly fire ; Let purUng streams be in her fancy seen, And flowery meads, and vales of cheerful green ; And ia the midst of deathless groves Soft sighing wishes lie. And smiling hopes fast by. And just beyond them ever-laughing loves. THE OOtTBSE OF LOVE. TT H, how sweet it is to love ! ■^ Ah, how gay is young desire ! And what pleasing pains we prove When we first approach love's fire ! Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are. Sighs, which are from lovers blown Do but gently heave the heart : Even the tears they shed alone. Cure, like trickling bahn, their smart. John Dryden. 243 Lovers when they lose their breath, Bleed away in. easy death. Love and time with reverence use; Treat them like a parting friend, Nor the golden gifts refuse. Which in youth sincere they send ; For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before. Love, like spring-tides, full and high. Swells in every youthful vein ; But each tide does less supply, Till they quite shrink in again : If a flow in age appear, 'Tis but rain, and runs not clear. THE SEA FIGHT. yjYHO ever saw a noble sight, ^^ That never viewed a brave sea-flght ! Hang up your bloody colours in the air. Up with your Ughts, and your nettings prepare ; Your merry mates cheer with a lusty bold spright. Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight. St. George ! St. G-eorge ! we cry, The shouting Turks reply. Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot. Ply it with culverin and with small shot ; Hark, does it not thunder ? no, 'tis the gun's roar. The neighbouring billows are turned into gore ; Now each man must resolve to die, For here the coward cannot fly. Drums and trumpets toU the knell. And culverins the passing bell. Now, now they grapple, and now board amain ; Blow up the hatches, they're ofE all again: 244 Songs from the Dramatists. Give them a broadside, the dice ran at all, Down comes the mast, and yard and taeklings faU ; She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel, She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel. Who ever beheld so noble a sight, As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight ! Albion attD ^Ibanus. ]6S3. NEKEIDS RISING PROM THE SKA.. TJEOM the low palace of old father Ocean, ■*^ Come we in pity our cares to deplore ; Sea-racing dolphins are trained for our motion. Moony tides swelling to roll us ashore. Every nymph of the flood, her tresses rending. Throws off her armlet of pearl in the main ; Neptune in anguish his charge unattending, Vessels are foundering, and vows are in vain. ISina SlrtSur } oc, ffije ajrttisij) JMPortis. 1691. HABVEST HOME.' YOUR hay it is mowed, and your com is reaped: Your bams will be full, and your hovels heaped : Come, my boys, come ; Come, my boys, come ; And merrily roar out harvest home ! Harvest home. Harvest home ; And merrily roar out harvest home ! Come, my boys, come, &c. 1 Tliis rustic madrigal, with its sants. The introduction of C'omus rant against the parsons, forms is as anomalous as the allusion to part of the enchantments of Mer- titlies. lin, and is sung hy Comus and pea- John Dryden. 245 We have cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again, For why shotdd a blockhead have one in ten ? One in ten, One in ten ; For why shotdd a blockhead have one in ten, For prating so long like a book-learned sot. Till pudding and dtimpling bum to pot, Bum to pot, Bum to pot ; Till pudding and dumpling bum to pot. Bum to pot, &c. We'U toss off our ale till we cannot stand : And hoigh for the honour of Old England : Old England, Old England; And hoigh for the honour of Old England. Old England, &c. ffilcomcnes } or, STfje Spartan J^eto, no, no, poor sufEering heart, no change endeavour. Choose to sustain the smart, rather than leave her ; My ravished eyes behold such charms about her, I can die with her, but not live without her ;' One tender sigh of hers to see me languish. Will more than pay the price of my past anguish ; Beware, cruel fair, how you smile on me, 'Twas a kind look of yours that has undone me. Love has in store for me one happy minute. And she will end my pain who did begin it ; Then no day void of bliss, of pleasure, leaving, Ages shall shde away without perceiving : 1 As lor tlie women, thongb we scorn and flout 'em, We may live wltH, Irat cannot live witSont 'em. The Will. 246 Songs from the Dramatists. Cupid shall guard the door, the more to please us, And keep out Time and Death, -when they would seize Time and Death shall depart, and say, in flying, [us; Love has found out a way to Uve by dyiag. Slobe ffiriumpjant j or, Kature toiU $rebatl. ]693. THE TTEANT JEALOUSY. TTVHAT state of life can be so blessed '-^ As love, that warms a lover's breast 1 Two souls in one, the same desire To grant the bUss, and to require 1 But if ia heaven a heU we find, 'Tis aU from thee, Jealousy 1 'Tis all from thee, Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind ! AU other ills, though sharp they prove. Serve to refine, and perfect love : In absence, or unkind disdaia, Sweet hope reheves the lover's pain. But ah ! no cure but death we find, To set us free From Jealousy : O Jealousy ! Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind. False in thy glass all objects are, Some set too near, and some too far ; Thou art the fire of endless night. The fire that bums and gives no light. All torments of the damned we find In only thee, Jealousy I Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind ! Sir George Mherege. 247 ajE Secular JStasque. )709. THE SONG OP DIANA. mITH horns and wilih hounds, I waken the day, And hie to the woodland-walks away ; I tack up my robe, and am buskined soon, And tie to my forehead a wexing moon.' I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox. And chase the wild goats o'er summits of rocks ; With shouting andhooting we pierce through the sky, And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. Sm GEORGE ETHEEEGE. 1636 . 3La\ie in a STuii. BJLAUTT NO AKMOCB AGAINST LOTE. LADEES, though to your conquering eyes Love owes his chiefest victories. And borrows those bright arms from you With which he does the world subdue. Yet you yourselves are not above The empire nor the griefs of love. Then wrack not lovers with disdain. Lest love on you revenge tbeir paia ; You are not free because y're fair ; The boy did not his mother spare. Beauty's but an offensive dart j It is no armour for the heart. 1 Wexing, or waxing, aa Dryden lias elaewhere employe*! it :— ' 'Tie Venue' honr, and in the waxing moon, Witli chalk I iirat describe a circle here.' TyramniG Love. 248 Songs from the Dramatists. THOMAS SHADWELL. 1640—1692. Shabwell's plays abound in songs, but the bulk of them are too slovenly, frivolous, or licentious, to deserve pre- servation in a separate fond. His comedies, admirable as pictures of contemporary meanness, supplied an appro- priate setting for his coarse and reckless verses ; but such pieces will not bear to be exhibited apart from the scenes for which they were designed. The following, however, may be accepted as characteristic of the time and the writer. arte VMomwn Captain. THE BOAKBKS. CHE king's most faithful subjects we In's service are not duU, We drink, to show our loyalty, And make his coffers full. Would all his subjects drink like us, We'd make him richer far, More powerful and more prosperous Than all the Eastern monarehs are.' W^t Anurous SSiQat. LOVE IN TOTTTH AND IN AGE. T^HE fire of love in youthful blood, ^ Like what is kindled in brushwood, But for a moment bums ; Yet in that moment makes a mighty noise. It crackles, and to vapour turns, And soon itself destroys. But when crept into ag^d veins It slowly bums, and long remains ; 1 See ante, p. 147. Dryd6n,iiiM8 ShadweU cotdd render the king VinMmUon of the JDuke of Ouise, was to increase the revenue hy says that the only loyal service drinidng. Sir Charles Sedley. 249 And with a sullen heat, Like fire in logs, it glows, and -warms 'em long, And though the flame be not so great. Yet is the heat as strong. Sttmon ot ^tjens. DAWU OF MORNING. T^HE fringed vallanoe of your eyes advance, ^ Shake ofE your canopied and downy "trance ; Phoebus already quaffs the morning dew. Each does his daily lease of life renew. He darts his beams on the lark's mossy house. And from his quiet tenement does rouse The httle charming and harmonious fowl, Which sings its lump of body to a soul : Swiftly it clambers up in the steep air With warbling throat, and makes each note a stair. This the solicitous lover straight alarms, Who too long slumbered in his CeUa's arms : And now the sweDing spunges of the night With aching heads stagger from their delight : Slovenly tailors to their needles haste : Already now the moving shops are placed By those who crop the treasures of the fields. And all those gems the ripening summer yields. Sm CHARLES SEDLEY. 1639—1701. K' THE GROWTH OT" LOVE. * H Chloris ! that I now could sit As unconcerned, as when Your infant beauty could beget No pleasure nor no pain. 11a 250 Songs from the Dramatists. 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 passion with your beauty grew, And Cupid at my heart, StiU, as his mother favoured 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. Though now I slowly bend to love, Uncertain of my fate, H your fair self my chains approve, I shall my freedom hate. Lovers, like dying men, may well At first disordered be ; Since none alive can truly tell What fortune they must see. 251 TOM D'UEFEY. 1723. aje ©omital J^istors of JBon ®,ui);ote. STILL WATEK. DAMON let a friend advise ye, Follow Clores though she flies ye, Though her tongue your suit is shghting, Her kind eyes you'U find inviting : Women's rage, like shallow water, Does but show their hurtless nature j When the stream seems rough and frowning, There is still least fear of drowning. Let me teU the adventurous stranger, In our calmness lies our danger ; Like a river's silent running. Stillness shows our depth and cunning : She that rails ye into trembling. Only shows her fine dissembling ; But the fawner to abuse ye, Thinks ye fools, and so wiU use ye. arje iWoBetn jprapjets j or, Weto SWit tot a Jgusfiatitt. THE FOP OF THE SKTEHTEENTH CENTURY. I HATE a fop that at his glass sits prinMag half the With a saUow, frowsy, olive-coloured face, [day. And a powdered peruke hanging to his waist ; Who with ogling imagines to possess, And to show Ms shape Does cringe and scrape. But nothing has to say : Or if the courtship's fine, He'll only cant and whine. And in confounded poetry, he'll goblins make divine. 252 Songs from the Dramatists. I love the bold and brave, I hate the fawning slave, Who quakes and cries, And sighs and lies, Yet wants the skill With sense to teU What 'tis he longs to have. SIR JOHN VANBBUaH. 1666—1726. Stje aaelajise > or, "Ptrtue (n JBanfler. BEWAEE OF LOVE. I SMILE at Love and all its arts. The charming Cynthia cried ; Take heed, for Love has piercing darts, A wounded swain replied ; Once free and blessed as you are now, I trifled with his charms, I pointed at his little bow, And sported with his arms : Till urged too far, Eevenge ! he cries, A fatal shaft he drew, It took its passage through your eyes. And to my heart it flew. To tear it thence I tried in vain, To strive I quioMy found Was only to increase the pain, And to enlarge the wound. Ah ! much too well, I fear you know What paia I'm to endure, Since what your eyes alone could do Your heart alone can cure. Sir John Vanbrugh. 253 And that (grant Heaven I may mistake !) I doubt is doomed to beax A burtlien for another's sake, Wbo ill rewards its care. arte $robofteti !12^ffe. LOVELESS BEAUTT. FLY, fly, you happy shepherds, fly ! Avoid Philira's charms ; The rigor of her heart denies The heaven that's in her arms. Ne'er hope to gaze, and then retire. Nor yielding, to be blessed : Nature, who formed her eyes of fire, Of ice composed her breast. Yet, lovely maid, this once believe A slave whose zeal you move ; The gods, alas, your youth deceive. Their heaven consists in love. In spite of all the thanks you owe. You may reproach 'em this. That where they did their form bestow. They have denied their bliss. LEAENED WOMEN. ONCE on a time, a nightingale To changes prone ; Unconstant, fickle, whimsical, (A female one) Who sung like others of her kind. Hearing a weU-taught linnet's airs, Had other matters in her mind. To imitate him she prepares. 254 Songs from the Dramatists. Her fancy straight Tvas on the wing : ' I fly,' quoth she, ' As well as he ; I don't know why I should not try As well as he to sing,' From that day forth she changed her note, She spoiled her voice, she strained her throat : She did, as learned women do, Till everything That heard her sing, Would run away from her — as I from you. WILLIAM CONUEEVE. 1672—1728. SLotie for SLobe. THE ORACLE. ANTMPH and a swaia to Apollo once prayed, The swainhad been jilted, the nymph beenbetoayed: Their intent was to try if his oracle knew E'er a nymph that was chaste, or a swain that was true. Apollo was mute, and was like t' have been posed. But sagely at length he this secret disclosed : ' He alone won't betray in whom none wDl confide : And the nymph maybe chaste that has never been tried.' love's dtpidelities. I TELL thee, Charmion, could I time retrieve. And could again begin to love and live, To you I should my earliest ofEering give ; I know my eyes woxQd lead my heart to you, And I should all my vows and oaths renew ; But, to be plain, I never would be true. William Congreve. 255 For by our weak and weary truth I find, Love hates to centre in a point assigned : But runs with joy the circle of the Tnind : Then never let us chain what should be free, But for rehef of either sex agree : Since women love to change, and so do we. me JSWas ot tfie mom. love's ambition. LOVE'S but the frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined ; A sickly flame, which, r£ not fed, expires, And feeding, wastes in self -consuming flres. 'Tis not to wound a wanton boy. Or amorous youth, that gives the joy ; But 'tis the glory to have pierced a swain. For whom inferior beauties sighed in vain. Then I alone the conquest prize, When I insult a rival's eyes : If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see That heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me. DRINKING SONS. PRITHEE flU me the glass, Tfll it laugh in my face. With ale that is potent and mellow ; He that whines for a lass, Is an ignorant ass, For a bumper has not its feUow. We'U drink and well never ha' done, boys, Put the glass then around with the sun, boys, Let ApoUo's example invite us ; For he's drunk every night, And that makes him so bright, That he's able next morning to light us. 256 Songs from the Dramatists. To drmk is a Christian diversion, Unknown to the Turk or the Persian : Let Mahometan fools Live by heathenish rules, And be damned over tea-eups and coffee ; But let British lads sing, Crown a health to the king, And a flg for your sultan and sophy! GEOEGE PAEQTTHAE. 1678—1707. Hobe ana a ISottle. FALSE LOVE ONLY IS BLIND. BOW blessed are lovers in disguise ! Like gods, they see, As I do thee. Unseen by human eyes. Exposed to view, I'm hid from you, I'm altered, yet the same : The dark conceals me, Love reveals me ; Love, which lights me by its flame. Were you not false, you me would know ; For though your eyes Could not devise, Your heart had told you so. Tour heart would beat With eager heat. And me by sympathy would find : True love might see One changed like me. False love is only bUnd. Richard Brinsley Sheridcm. 257 arte Etoitis, WIT IN JAIL. T^HE Tower confliies tlie great, ^ Tlie spimgiiig-liouse tlie poor ; Thiis there are degrees of state That even the wretched must endure. Virgil, thongh cherished in courts. Relates but a splenetic tale : Cervantes revels and sports, Although he writ in a jail. EICHABD BEINSLEY SHERrDAN. Sjie JDuenna. LOVE FOK LOVE. I NE'ER could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me ; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip, But where my own did hope to sip. Has the maid who seeks my heart Cheeks of rose, untouched by art ? I win own the colour true. When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure t I must press it, to be sure ; Nor can I be certain then. Till it, grateful, press again. Must I, with attentive eye. Watch her heaving bosom sigh ? I will do so, when I see That heaving bosom sigh for me. 258 Songs front the Dramatists. CONDITIONS OF BEAUTY. GIVE Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast, But health and good humour to make her his toast ; If straight, I don't mind whether slender or fat, And six feet or four — well ne'er quarrel for that. Whate'er her complexion I tow I don't care, If brown, it is lasting — ^more pleasirig, if fair : And though in. her face I no dimples should see. Let her smile — and each dell is a dimple to me. Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen, And her eyes may be e'en any colour but green ; For in eyes, though so various the lustre and hue, I swear I've no choice — only let her have two. 'Tis true I'd dispense with a throne on her back ; And white teeth, I own, are genteeler than black ; A httle round chin too's a beauty, I've heard ; But I only desire she mayn't have a beard. THE SUNSHINE OP AGE. OH, the days when I was young, When I laughed in fortune's spite ; Talked of love the whole day long. And with nectar crowned the night ! Then it was, old father Care, Little reeked I of thy frown ; Half thy malice youth could bear, . And the rest a bumper drown. Truth, they say, lies in a well. Why I vow I ne'er could see ; Let the water-drinkers tell. There it always lay for me : For when sparkling wine went roimd, Never saw I falsehood's mask ; But stiU honest truth I found In the bottom of each flask. Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 259 True, at length my Tigour's flown, I have years to bring decay ; Tew the locks that now I own, And the few I have are grey. Yet, old Jerome, thou mayst boast, While thy spirits do not tire ; Still beneatb thy age's frost, Glows a spark of youthful fire. DBINKIN» GLEE. T^HIS bottle's the sim of our table, ^ TTif! beams are rosy wine ; We, planets, that are not able Without Ms help to shine. Let mirth and glee abound ! Youll soon grow bright With borrowed hght. And shine as he goes round ! 0])e ,Sc1)aol for Sbcanbal. LET THE TOAST PASS. RERE'S to the maiden of bashful fifteen ; Here's to the widow of fifty ; Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean. And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. Let the toast pass. Drink to the lass, I'U warrant shell prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize, Now to the maid who has none, sir : Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes. And here's to the nymph with but one, sir. Let the toast pass, &c. 260 Songs from (he Dramatists. Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow ; Now to her that's as brown as a berry : Here's to the wife with a face fuU of woe, And now to the damsel that's merry. Let the toast pass, &c. For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be sHm, Young or ancient, I care not a feather ; So fin a piat bumper quite up to the brim. So fiU up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim. And let us e'en toast them together. Let the toast pass, &c.' 1 Tbese gay and flowing Terses, modelled on the follcvring song in perhaps the most poptilar of their Suckling's play of the QoMi/m : class in the language, are evldentily ' A health to the nnt-brown lass With the hazel eyes, let it pass. She that has good eyes, &o. Let it pass— let It pass. As mnch to the lively grey, 'Tis as good in the night as the day, She that hath good eyes, &c. Drink away— drink away. I pledge, I pledge, what ho I some wine. Here's to thine— here's to thine ! The colours are divine ; Bnt oh I the black, the black, Give me as mnch again, and let 't be sack ; She that hath good eyes,' lden slumbers Mss your eyes 180 Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day 102 Grieve not, fond man, nor let one tear 192 Hail, beauteous Dian, queen of shades 201 Hark! hark I the lark at heaven's gate sings 104 Hark, now eveiything is stUl 183 Hast thou seen the down in the air 214 Haymakers, rakers, reapers, and mowers 207 Hear ye ladies that despise 143 Hence, all you vain delights 162 Hence merrily fine to get money 182 Here lies the blithe spring 207 Here's to the maiden of bashful flfteen 269 Hey dery dery, with a lusty dery 45 His golden locks time hath to silver turned 60 Honour, riches, marriage-blessing 99 Hot sun, cool Are, tempered with sweet air 63 How blessed are lovers in disguise I 266 How round the world goes, and everything that's in it 176 How should I your true love know 102 264 Index. PAGE I AM gone, sir. 89 I care not for these Idle toys 184 I could never have the power 122 If all these Cnplds now were blind 116 I feed a flame wltMn, wMoh so torments me 240 If I freely may discover 112 H love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love 1 78 If she be nmde of white and red 78 I hate a fop that at his glass sits pruiking halt the day 251 I have a pretty tltmonse 48 Immortal gods, I claim no peU 108 I mun be married a Sunday 18 In a maiden-time professed 168 In a silent shade, as I sat a sunning 43 I ne'er could any lustre see 267 I neither will lend nor borrow 225 In love's name you are charged hereby 223 In youth when I did love, did love 103 lo Bacchus I to thy table 65 Isis, the goddess of this land 140 I smile at love and all its arts 262 I tell thee, Charmlon, could I time retrieve 254 It was a beauty that I saw 120 It was a lover aud his lass 94 I would not be a serving-man 153 Joa on, jog on, the footpath way 97 'Knsa Stephen was a worthy peer 105 Knocks go and come 101 I/ADiEg, though to your conquering eyes 247 Lawn, as white as driven snow 97 Lay a garland on my hearse 122 Let the bells ring, and let the boys sing 124 Let those complain that feel Love's cruelty 148 Let us live, live ! for, being dead 228 Like to Diana In her summer weed 66 Live with me still, and all the measures 206 London, to thee I do present 164 Love's but the frailty of the mind 266 Love for such a cherry lip 166 Love, love, nothing but love, still more I 109 Love is a law, a discord of such force 184 Love ifl blind, and a wanton 113 Index. 265 PAGE Love is liie a laiub, and love is like a lion 165 Love is tlie sire, dam, nurse, and seed 216 Lovers, r^oice I your pains shall be rewarded 168 Love's a lovely lad 186 Lullaby, lullaby, baby 190 Maistek Bolster Bolster ■will straight go homo and die 19 Melampus, when will Love be void of fears t 61 Melpomene, the muse of tragic songs 69 My Daphne's hair is twisted gold 64 My man Thomas U3 My masters, my friends, and good people, di-aw near 117 My shag-hair Cyclops, come, let's ply 61 Now does jolly Janus greet your merriment 185 Now fle on Love, it ill befits ' 191 Now having leisure, and a happy wind 156 No, no, fair heretic, it needs must be 213 No, no, poor suffering heart, no change endeavour 245 Now the hungry lion roars 84 Now the lusty spring is seen 142 Now, until the break of day 84 Now what is love I will thee tell 195 Now, whilst the moon doth rule the sky 131 O CEUEi, liove, on thee I lay 61 O Cupid I monarch over kings 66 O for a bowl of fat canary 167 O gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed 58 Oh, fair sweet face 1 oh, ej-es celestial bright 156 Oh, fair, sweet goddess, queen of loves 138 Oh, how my lungs do tickle 1 ha, ha, ha 163 Oh, no more, no more, too late 210 Oh, sorrow, sorrow, say where dost thou dwell 189 Oh, the days when I was young 258 ■bh, turn thy bow ! 161 O, let us howl some heavy note 183 O Mistress mine, where are you rooming ? 88 On a day, (aUick the day 1) 80 Once on a time, a nightingale 253 O stay, O turn, O pity me 187 O, that joy so soon should wastel HI O, the month of May, the merry month of May 178 Orpheus I am, come from the deeps below I37 Orphens with his lute made trees loi 12 266 Index. PAGE Opinion, how tlost thou molest 73 OTor Mil, over dale 82 O yes, O yes, if any maid 63 Pan's Syrinx was a girl indeed 64 Pardon, goddess of tlie night 87 Pinch him, pinch him, hlack and hlue 63 Pipe, merry Annot 16 Pity, pity, pity I 166 Pleasures, heauty, youth attend ye 211 Poor mortals, that are clogged with earth below 239 Prithee flU me the glass 265 Qdeen, and huntress, chaste and fair 112 EiBE from the shades helow 126 Boses, their sharp spines being gone 169 Eun to love's lottery I run, maids, and rcijoice 229 Bhephekds aJl, and maidens fair 129 She's pretty to walk with 213 Sigh no more, ladles, sigh no more 87 Since you desire my absence 186 Sing his praises that doth keep 128 Sing to Apollo, god of day 66 Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears 110 So beauty on the waters stood 115 So sweet a Wss the golden sun gives not 79 Spite of his spite, which that in vain 10 Spring, the sweet spring, is the yeai's pleasant Mug 68 Stand 1 who goes there 1 62 Still to be neat, stiU to be drest 116 Take, oh 1 taie those lips away 96 Take, oh ! take those lips away U7 Tell me dearest, what is love 1 160 Tell me tidings of my mother 225 Tell me what is that only thing 156 Tell me where is fancy bred? 85 The blushing rose, and purple flower 202 The bread is aU baked 232 The fire of love in youthful Mood 248 The fit's upon me now 126 The fringfed vaUanoe of your eyes advance 249 The gentry to the King's Head 1% Index. 267 PAGE Tlie glories of our blood and state 227 Tlie king's most faithful subjects we 248 The master, the swabber, the boatswala, and I 99 The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree 106 The Spaniard loves Ms ancient slop 199 The Tower confines the great 267 The woosel-oock, so black of hue 83 Then, in a free and lofty strain 114 Then is there mirth in heaven 95 Then our music is in prune 215 There is not any wise man 187 This bottle's the sun of our table 259 This cursed jealousy, what is It? 229 This way, this way come, and hear 142 Thou deity, swlft-wlngfed Love 161 Thou divlnest, fairest, brightest 135 Thou more than most sweet glove ill Thou that art called the bright Hyperion 197 Though I am young and cannot teU 120 Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed 107 Through yon same bending plain 126 Thy best hand lay on this turf of grass 174 'Tis, in good truth, a most wonderful thing 230 'Tis late and cold ; stir up the flre 149 'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood 162 Tobacco's a Musician 220 Trip it, gipsies, trip it fine 172 TJUDER the greenwood tree 90 Urns and odours bring away ! 160 ViCTOEiOTJS men of earth, no more 226 Virtue's branches wither, virtue pines 177 Wake all the dead I what ho ! what ho ! 231 Wake, our mirth begins to die 113 Walking in a shady grove 76 Was this fair face the cause, quoth she 82 Wedding is great Juno's crown 96 Weep eyes, break heart 1 171 Weep no more for what is past 233 Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan 1B2 Weep, weep, ye woodmen wail 192 Weep, weep, you Argonauts 190 Welladay. welladay, poor Colin, thou art going to the ground. 69 268 Index. PAGE Welcome, tbrlce welcome to this sliadj green 204 We allow no monetroua ciocodlle 235 What bird so sings, yet 80 does waill 60 Wiat bird so sings, yet so does wall J a)6 Wbat heart can think, or tongue express 29 What powerful charms my streams do bring 138 What shall he have that killed the deerl 93 What state of life can be so blessed 246 What thing Is love 1 for sure love is a thing 02 Whenas the rye reach to the chin 62 When daffodils begin to peer 90 When daisies pied, and violets blue 80 When shall we three meet again 107 When that I was and a little tiny boy 89 When travels grete in matters thick 38 When wanton love hath walked astray 13 Where the bee sucks, there suck 1 100 While you here do snoring lie 99 Whither shall I go 186 Who ever saw a noble sight 943 WhoisSflvlal WhatlssheJ 77 Who so to marry a minion wife 17 Why art thou slow, thou rest of trouble, Death 203 Why should this desert sUent be 1 92 Why BO pale and wan, fond loverl 212 Will you buy any tape 98 With fair Ceres, Queen of Grain 198 With horns and with hounds, I waken the day 247 Woodmen, shepherds, oome away 222 Ye be welcome, ye be welcome 31 Ye little birds that sit and sing 198 You pleasing dreams of love and sweet delight 242 Your hay It is mowed, and your com is reaped 244 You spotted snakes, with double tongue 83 You stole my love ; fy upon you, fy 1 44 You that seek to sunder love 44 You twice ten hundred deities 239 THE END.