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It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth, Thrall to these rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
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
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
A little bread shall do me stead,
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,
But sure I think that I can drink
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow, Can hurt me if it would,
I am so wrapt and throughly lapt
Of this jolly good ale and old." Back and side, etc.
And Tib my wife, that as her life
The tears run down her cheek;
Now let them drink till they nod and I laugh not at another's loss;
SIR EDWARD DYER (1550?-1607) MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS
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 shape to feed a loving eye;
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
And I am rich with little store: They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
I grudge not at another's pain; No worldly waves my mind can toss; My state at one doth still remain: fear no foe, I fawn no friend; I loathe not life, nor dread my end.
Some weigh their pleasure by their lust, Their wisdom by their rage of will; Their treasure is their only trust;
A cloaked craft their store of skill: But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind.
Nor by deceit to breed offence: Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I!
5 Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread;
My wealth is health and perfect ease; My conscience clear my chief defence; I neither seek by bribes to please,
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586)
LOVE IS DEAD
That Love is dead?
His death-bed, peacock's folly;
His winding-sheet is shame;
From so ungrateful fancy, From such a female franzie, From them that use men thus, Good Lord, deliver us!
Weep, neighbors, weep; do you not hear it said
Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly read, For Love is dead;
Cupid and my Campaspe played
What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
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.