TO CESAR AND CLEOPATRA ON THE NILE.
Isis. TSIS, the goddess of this land,
Bids thee, great Cæsar, understand And mark our customs: and first know, With greedy eyes these watch the glow Of plenteous Nilus; when he comes, With songs, with dances, timbrels, drums, They entertain him; cut his
And give his proud heads leave to play;
Nilus himself shall rise, and shew
His matchless wealth in overflow.
Labourers. Come, let us help the reverend Nile;
He's very old; alas, the while!
Let us dig him easy ways,
And prepare a thousand plays:
To delight his streams, let's sing
A loud welcome to our spring;
This way let his curling heads
Fall into our new-made beds;
This way let his wanton spawns
Frisk, and glide it o'er the lawns.
This way profit comes, and gain:
How he tumbles here amain!
How his waters haste to fall
Into our channels! Labour, all,
And let him in; let Nilus flow,
And perpetual plenty shew.
With incense let us bless the brim,
And, as the wanton fishes swim,
Let us gums and garlands fling,
And loud our timbrels ring.
Come, old father, come away!
Our labour is our holiday.
Isis. Here comes the agèd river now,
With garlands of great pearl his brow
Begirt and rounded. In his flow
All things take life, and all things grow:
A thousand wealthy treasures still,
To do him service at his will,
Follow 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:
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 sacrifice.
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.
THE LITTLE FRENCH LAWYER.
THIS 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!
THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN.
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 pull,
Lilies whiter than the snow,
Woodbines of sweet honey full:
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:
All love's emblems, and all cry,
'Ladies, if not plucked, we die.'
HEAR WHAT LOVE CAN DO.
EAR, ye ladies that despise,
What the mighty love has done;
Fear examples, and be wise:
Fair Calisto was a nun;
Leda, sailing on the stream
To deceive the hopes of man,
Love accounting but a dream,
Doated on a silver swan;
Danaë, 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, kindling 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.
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!
Come to my window, my dear;
The wind nor the rain
Shall trouble thee again,
But thou shalt be lodged here.
COME away, thou lady gay:
Hoist how she stumbles!
Hark how she mumbles.
Dame Gillian !
Answer.-I come, I come.
By old Claret I enlarge thee,
By Canary thus I charge thee,
By Britain Metheglin, and Peeter,+
Appear, and answer me in metre !
Why, when?
Why, Gill!
Why when?
Answer. You'll 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 stuff;
By thy bottle at thy breech,
And thine old salt itch;
† An abbreviation of Peter-see-me, itself a corruption of PedroXimenes, derived from Pedro-Simon, who is said to have imported the grape from the Rhine.-See note by Mr. Dyce, from Henderson's History of Wines-Works of Beaumont and Fletcher, vii. 297. Ximenes is still a well-known wine.
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