As cut your hair up by your ear,

Your kirtle by the knee; With bow in hand, for to with. stand

Your enemies, if need be:
And this same night before day.
light,

To wood-ward will I flee.
If that ye will all this fulfil,

Do it shortly as ye can:
Else will I to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

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

SHE-Whatever befall, I never shall
Of this thing you upbraid:
But if ye go, and leave me so,
Then have you me betray'd.
Remember you well, how that
ye deal;

For, if ye, as ye said,

Be so unkind, to leave behind,
Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust me truly, that I shall die
Soon after ye be gone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE-If that ye went, ye should repent
For in the forest now

I have purvayed § me of a maid,
Whom I love more than you;
Another fairer than ever ye were,

I dare it well avow;

And of you both each should be wroth

With other as I trow :

It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can ;

Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-Though in the wood I underst201
Ye had a paramour,

+ Ensue-follow.

Purvayed-provided.

All this may nought remove my

thought,

But that I will be your:

And she shall find me soft and
kind,

And courteous every hour;
Glad to fulfil all that she will

Command me to my power:
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,
"Of them I would be one,"
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

IIE.-Mine own dear love, I see the proof

That ye be kind and true;
Of maid, and wife, in all my life,
The best that ever I knew.

Be merry and glad, be no more
sad,

The case is changed new ; For it were ruth, that, for your truth,

Ye should have cause to rue. Be not dismayed; whatsoever I said

To you when I began ;

I will not to the green wood go;
I am no banished man.

SHE.-These tidings be more glad to me,
Than to be made a queen,

If I were sure they should endure;
But it is often seen,
When men will break promise,
they speak

The wordés on the spleen.
Ye shape some wile me to beguile,
And steal from me, I ween :
Then were the case worse than it
was,

And I more woe-begone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-Ye shall not need further to dread;
I will not disparage

You (God defend !), sith ye descend

Of so great lineage.

Now understand; to Westmoreland,

Which is mine heritage,

I will you bring; and with a ring

By way of marriage

I will you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can :

Thus have you won an Erly's son,
And not a banished man.

AUTHOR-Here may ye see, that woman be

In love, meek, kind and stable :
Let never man reprove them then,
Or call them variable;

But rather pray God that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometimes proveth such,
as he loveth,

If they be charitable.

For sith men would that women should

Be meek to them each one; Much more ought they to God obey,

And serve but him alone.

[BEN JONSON. 1573-1637.]
TO CELIA.
I.

Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss within the cup,

And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, Doth ask a drink divine: But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.

II.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there

It could not withered be;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent'st it back to me,

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself but thee.

Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother; Death, ere thou has slain another, Learned, and fair, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee!

SONG OF HESPERUS.

(From "Cynthia's Revels.")
QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep.
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright!

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heaven to clear, when day did close.
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright!

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver:
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe how short soever;
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright!

THE SWEET NEGLECT. STILL to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast: Still to be poud'red, still perfum'd: Lady, it is to be presum'd, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a looke, give me a face, That makes simplicitie a grace; Robes loosely flowing, haire as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all th' adulteries of art,

That strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

ELEGY ON SHAKSPEARE.

To draw no envy, Shakspeare, on thy

name,

Am I thus ample to thy book and fame:

peers,

And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine,

Or sportive Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.

And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,

From thence to honour thee, I will not seek

For names; but call forth thund'ring
Eschylus,

Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,
To live again, to hear thy buskin tread,
And shake a stage; or when thy socks
were on,

Leave thee alone for the comparison
Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughty
Rome

Sent forth, or since did from their ashes

come.

Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show

To whom all scenes of Europe homage

owe.

He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the muses still were in their prime,

When, like Apollo, he came forth to

warm

|Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!

Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!

Sweet swan of Avon! what a sight it were
To see thee in our water yet appear,
And make those flights upon the banks of
Thames,

That so did take Eliza, and our James !
But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere
Advanc'd, and made a constellation there!
Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with
rage,

Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage,

Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like night,

And despairs day, but for thy volumes light.

JEALOUSY.

WRETCHED and foolish Jealousy,
How cam'st thou thus to enter me?
I ne'er was of thy kind :

Nor have I yet the narrow mind

To vent that poor desire,

That others should not warm them at my fire:

I wish the sun should shine On all men's fruits and flowers, as well as mine.

But under the disguise of love,
Thou say'st thou only cam'st to prove
What my affections were.

Think'st thou that love is helped by
fear?

Go, get thee quickly forth,

Inditing and arraigning every day,

Something they call a play. Let their fastidious, vain Commission of the brain

Run on, and rage, sweat, censure, and condemn :

They were not made for thee, less thou for them.

Say that thou pour'st them wheat, And they will acorns eat; 'Twere simple fury still thyself to waste On such as have no taste! To offer them a surfeit of pure bread, Whose appetites are dead! No, give them grains their fill, Husks, draff to drink and swill. If they love lees, and leave the lusty wire, Envy them not their palates with the swine.

No doubt some mouldy tale,
Like Pericles, and stale

As the shrieves crusts, and nasty as his fish

Scraps, out of every dish Thrown forth, and rank'd into the com. mon tub,

May keep up the play-club:
There sweepings do as well
As the best order'd meal.

For who the relish of these guests will fit,
Needs set them but the alms-basket of wit.

And much good do't you then : Brave plush and velvet men Can feed on orts: and safe in your stage. clothes,

Dare quit upon your oaths,

(your peers)

Of larding your large ears With their foul comic socks ; Wrought upon twenty blocks;

Which, if they are torn, and turn'd, and patch'd enough,

The gamesters share your guilt, and yor their stuff.

Leave things so prostitute,

And take the Alcaic lute;

Or thine own Horace, or Anacreon's lyre Warm thee by Pindar's fire:

blood be cold,

Ere years have made thee old; Strike that disdainful heat Throughout to their defeat:

As curious fools, and envious of thy strain, May, blushing, swear no palsy's in thy brain.

To find where Cynthia sat, Whose name so often from the hills The echoes wonder'd at.