She said, never man was true;
He said, none was false to you.
He said, he had loved her long;
She said, Love should have no wrong.
Coridon would kiss her then,

She said, Maids must kiss no men,
Till they did for good and all.
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth,
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use

When they will not Love abuse,
Love which had been long deluded
Was with kisses sweet concluded;
And Phillida, with garlands gay,
Was made the Lady of the May.

From A Posie of Gilloflowers, 1580

For Soldiers

NICHOLAS BRETON

Ye buds of Brutus' land, courageous youths, now play your

parts,

Unto your tackle stand; abide the brunt with valiant hearts; For news is carried to and fro, that we must forth to warfare go; Men muster now in every place, and soldiers are pressed forth

apace.

Faint not, spend blood to do your Queen and country good, Fair words, good pay, will make men cast all care away. The time of war is come; prepare your corslet, spear, and

shield.

Methinks I hear the drum strike doleful marches to the field. Tantara! Tantara! the trumpets sound, which makes our hearts with joy abound;

The roaring guns are heard afar and everything denounceth

war.

Serve God; stand stout; bold courage brings this gear about; Fear not, forth run; faint heart fair Lady never won.

Ye curious Carpet knights, that spend the time in sport and play,

Abroad, and see new sights. Your country's cause calls you away;

Do not, to make your Ladies game, bring blemish to your worthy name;

Away to field, and win renown; with courage beat your enemies down;

Stout hearts gain praise, when dastards sail in slander's seas. Hap what hap shall, we sure shall die but once for all.

Alarm! methinks they cry. Be packing, mates.

with speed.

Be gone

Our foes are very nigh; shame have that man that shrinks

at need.

Unto it boldly let us stand; God will give right the upper

hand;

Our cause is good, we need not doubt; in sign of courage give a shout.

March forth, be strong; good hap will come ere it be long; Shrink not, fight well; for lusty lads must bear the bell.

All you that will shun evil, must dwell in warfare every day. The world, the flesh, and Devil always do seek our soul's decay;

Strive with these foes with all your might; so shall you fight a worthy fight.

That conquest doth deserve most praise, where vice does yield to virtue's ways.

Beat down foul sin; a worthy crown then shall ye win;
If we live well, in Heaven with Christ our souls shall dwell.
H. GIFFORD

From Rawlinson MS

Fond Desire

Come hither, Shepherd swain.
Sir, what do you require?

I pray thee, shew to me thy name.
My name is fond DESIRE.

When wert thou born, DESIRE ?
In pomp and pride of May.

By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot?
By fond Conceit, men say.

Tell me, who was thy Nurse?

Fresh Youth, in sugared joy.
What was thy meat and daily food?
Sad sighs with great annoy.

What hadst thou then to drink?
Unsavoury lovers' tears.

What cradle wert thou rocked in?
In hope devoid of fears.

What lulled thee then asleep?

Sweet speech, which likes me best.
Tell me, where is thy dwelling place?
In gentle hearts I rest.

What things doth please thee most?
To gaze on Beauty still.
Whom dost thou think to be thy foe?
Disdain of my good-will.

Doth company displease?

Yes surely, many one.

Where doth DESIRE delight to live?

He loves to live alone.

Doth either time or age

Bring him unto decay?

No! No! DESIRE both lives and dies
A thousand times a day.

Then fond DESIRE farewell.
Thou art not mate for me!

I should be loth methinks to dwell

With such a one as thee!

EDWARD DE VERE EARL OF OXFORD

From Byrd's Psalms, Sonnets and Songs, 1588

If women could be fair, and never fond,
Or that their beauty might continue still,
I would not marvel, though they made men bond,
By service long to purchase their good-will;

But when I see how frail these creatures are,
I laugh, that men forget themselves so far.

To mark what choice they make, and how they change,
How leaving best, the worst they choose out still;
And how like haggards wild, about they range,
Scorning after reason, to follow will;

Who would not shake such buzzards from the fist,
And let them fly, fair fools, which way they list?

Yet for our sport, we fawn and flatter both,
To pass the time when nothing else can please;
And train them on to yield, by subtle oath,
The sweet content that gives such humour ease;

And then we say when we their follies try,
To play with fools, Oh what a fool was Í.

EDWARD DE VERE EARL OF OXFORD

From England's Helicon, 1600

Ralegh's Reply to Marlowe's Passionate Shepherd

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold ;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

;

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

From England's Helicon, 1600

SIR W. RALEGH

The Shepherd's praise of his sacred Diana

Praised be Diana's fair and harmless light,

Praised be the dews wherewith she moists the ground, Praised be her beams, the glory of the night,

Praised be her power, by which all powers abound.
Praised be her nymphs, with whom she decks the woods,
Praised be her knights in whom true honour lives,
Praised be that force by which she moves the floods;
Let that Diana shine which all these gives.

In heaven queen she is among the spheres,
She mistress-like makes all things to be pure;
Eternity in her oft change she bears;

She beauty is, by her the fair endure.

Time wears her not, she doth his chariot guide;
Mortality below her orb is placed;

By her the virtue of the stars down slide,

In her is virtue's perfect image cast.

A knowledge pure it is, her worth to know;
With Circes let them dwell, that think not so.

SIR W. RALEGH