THE LULLABY OF A LOVER
SING lullaby, as women doe,
Wherewith they bring their babes to rest; And lullaby can I sing to,
As womanly as can the best.
With lullaby they still the childe,
And if I be not much beguild,
Full many wanton babes have I,
Which must be stild with lullabie.
First lullaby my youthfull yeares,
It is nowe time to go to bed:
For croocked age and hoary heares,
Have wone the hauen with in my
With Lullaby then youth be still;
With lullaby content thy will ;
Since courage quayles, and commes behind, Go sleepe, and so beguile thy minde!
Next Lullaby my gazing eyes,
Which wonted were to glaunce apace;
For
every Glasse may nowe suffice
To shewe the furrowes in thy face.
With Lullabye then winke awhile;
With Lullabye your lookes beguile;
Lette no fayre face, nor beautie brighte,
Entice you efte with vayne delighte.
And Lullaby my wanton will;
Lette reason's rule nowe reigne thy thought; Since all too late I finde by skyll
Howe deare I have thy fancies bought;
With Lullaby nowe tak thyne ease,
With Lullaby thy doubtes appease;
For trust to this, if thou be styll,
My body shall obey thy will.
Eke Lullabye my louing boye,
My little Robyn take thy rest,
Since age is colde, and nothing coye,
Keepe close thy coyne, for so is best :
With Lullaby be thou content,
With Lullaby thy lustes relente,
Lette others pay which hath mo pence,
Thou art to pore for such expence.
Thus Lullabye my youth, myne eyes,
My will, my ware, and all that was:
I can no moer delayes devise;
But welcome payne, let pleasure passe:
With Lullaby now take your
leave;
With Lullaby your dreames deceive;
And when you rise with waking eye,
Remember then this Lullabye.
THE ARRAIGNMENT OF A LOVER
Ar Beautyes barre as I dyd stande,
When false suspect accused mee,
George (quod the Judge) holde vp thy hande,
Thou art arraignde of Flatterye :
Tell therefore howe thou wylt bee tryde,
Whose judgement here wylt thou abyde?
My Lord (quod I) this Lady here,
Whome I esteeme aboue the rest,
Doth knowe my guilte if any were:
Wherefore hir doome shall please me best,
Let hir bee Judge and Jurour boathe,
To trye mee guiltlesse by myne oathe.
Quod Beautie, no, it fitteth not,
A Prince hir selfe to iudge the cause :
Wyll is our Justice well you wot,
Appointed to discusse our Lawes :
If you wyll guiltlesse seeme to goe,
God and your countrey quitte you so.
Then crafte the cryer cal'd a quest,
Of whome was falshoode formost feere,
A packe of pickethankes were the rest,
Which came false witnesse for to beare,
The Jurye suche, the Judge uniust,
Sentence was sayde I should be trust.
Wyll is dame bewties chiefe Iustice of Oyre and terminer.
Jelous the Jayler bound mee fast,
To heare the verdite of the byll,
George (quod the Judge) nowe thou art cast,
Thou must goe hence to heauie hill,
And there be hangde all but the head,
God rest thy soule when thou art dead.
Downe fell I then vpon my knee,
All flatte before Dame Beauties face,
And cryed, good Ladye pardon mee,
Which here appeale vnto your grace,
You knowe if I haue beene vntrue,
It was in too much praysing you.
And though this Judge doe make suche
haste,
To shead with shame my guiltlesse blood :
Yet let your pittie first bee plaste,
To saue the man that meant you good,
So shall you shewe your selfe a Queene,
And I maye bee your seruaunt seene.
(Quod Beautie) well: bicause I guesse,
What thou dost meane hencefoorth to bee,
Although thy faultes deserue no lesse,
Than Justice here hath iudged thee,
Wylt thou be bounde to stynt all strife,
And be true prisoner all thy lyfe ?
Yea Madame (quod I) that I shall,
Loe fayth and trueth my suerties :
Why then (quod shee) come when I call, Common I aske no better warrantise.
Thus am I Beauties bounden thrall,
At hir commaunde when shee doth call.
EDWARD DE VERE, EARL OF OXFORD
IF woemen could be fayre and yet not fonde,
Or that theire loue were firme, not fickell still,
I woulde not meruayle that they make men bonde,
By seruise longe to purchase theyre good will;
But when I se how frayll those creatures are,
I muse that men forget themselues so farr.
plaste] placed. fonde] foolish.
marvel.
To marcke the choyse they make, and how they change,
How ofte from Phoebus they do flee to Pann, Vnsettled still, like haggardes willd, theye range, These gentlle byrdes that flye from man to man; Who woulde not scorne and shake them from the fyste,
And let them flye, fayre fooles, which waye they lyste.
Yet, for disporte we fawne and flatter bothe,
To passe the tyme when nothinge else can please; And trayne them to our lure with subtylle othe, Till, wearye of thyre wiles, ourselues we ease; And then we saye, when we theire fancye trye, To playe with fooles, oh, what a foole was I.
THOMAS SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET
AND, first, within the porch and iawes of hell,
Sate deepe Remorse of conscience, all be sprent
With teares and to herselfe oft would she tell
Her wretchednes, and cursing neuer stent
To sob and sighe; but ever thus lament,
With thoughtful care, as she that all in vaine
Would weare and wast continually in paine.
Her eyes unstedfast, rolling here and there,
Whurld on ech place, as place that vengeaunce
brought,
So was her minde continually in feare,
haggardes] wild hawks.
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