« VorigeDoorgaan »
Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;10 Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.
ELIZABETHAN SONG WRITERS
BACK AND SIDE GO BARE, GO BARE
Back and side go bare, go bare,
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
I stuff my skin so full within
I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
A little bread shall do me stead,
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
I am so wrapt and throughly lapt
And Tib my wife, that as her life
The tears run down her cheek; Then doth she trowl2 to me the bowl Even as a maltworm3 should,
My mind to me a kingdom is,
Such present joys therein I find That it excels all other bliss
That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want which most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall:
I see how plenty [surfeits] oft,
And hasty climbers soon do fall;
I see that those which are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all; They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear. Content to live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway;
Look, what I lack my mind supplies: Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. Some have too much, yet still do crave;25 I little have, and seek no more.
They are but poor, though much they have,
And I am rich with little store: They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
I laugh not at another's loss;
I grudge not at another's pain;
Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
A cloaked craft their store of skill:
My wealth is health and perfect ease;
My conscience clear my chief defence; I neither seek by bribes to please,
Nor by deceit to breed offence: Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I!
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586)
LOVE IS DEAD
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
The fairest shepherd on our
A love for any lady.
Fair and fair, and twice so fair,5
As fair as any may be;
Thy love is fair for thee alone,
EN. My love is fair, my love is gay,
And of my love my roundelay,
My merry, merry roundelay,
"They that do change old love for
Pray gods they change for worse!" 15 AMBO SIMUL.3 They that do change, etc. EN. Fair and fair, etc.
PAR. Fair and fair, etc.
Thy love is fair, etc.
EN. My love can pipe, my love can
My love can1 many a pretty thing,
My merry, merry roundelays,
"They that do change," etc. PAR. They that do change, etc. AMBO. Fair and fair, etc.
ROBERT GREENE (1560?-1592)
SWEET ARE THE THOUGHTS
THOMAS LODGE (15587-1625)
Love in my bosom like a bee
Now with his wings he plays with me,
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
And if I sleep, then percheth he,
And makes his pillow of my knee,
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He lends me every lovely thing;
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting.
Else I with roses every day
Will whip you hence,
And bind you, when you long to play, For your offence.
I'll shut my eyes to keep you in,
I'll make you fast it for your sin,