Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Fond done, done fond,

Was this King Priam's joy?
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
this sentence then;

And gave

Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.

PUCK

Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon ;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.

Now the wasted brands do glow,

While the screech-owl, screeching loud,

Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the church-way paths to glide;
And we fairies, that do run

By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent with broom before,

To

Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite

Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.
First, rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

LULLABY

You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy queen.

Philomel, with melody

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Never harm,

Nor spell nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good-night, with lullaby.

Weaving Spiders, come not here;

Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not near;

Worm nor snail, do no offence.

Philomel, with melody

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.

Never harm,

Nor spell nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good-night, with lullaby.

SONG

TELL me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.

It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed: and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.

Let us all ring fancy's knell :
I'll begin it,-Ding, dong, bell.
Ding, dong, bell.

CHERRY-RIPE

THOMAS CAMPION

THERE is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ;
There cherries grow that none may buy
Till Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose

Of orient pearl a double row,
Which, when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rosebuds fill'd with snow;
Yet them 'no peer nor prince may buy
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still,
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill

All that approach with eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.

LAURA

ROSE-CHEEKED Laura, come;

Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty's
Silent music, either other
Sweetly gracing.

Lovely forms do flow

From consent divinely framed ;
Heaven is music, and thy beauty's
Birth is heavenly.

These dull notes we sing

Discords need for helps to grace them,
Only beauty purely loving

Knows no discord,

But still moves delight,

Like clear springs renewed by flowing,
Ever perfect, ever in them-

Selves eternal.

COME, CHEERFUL DAY

COME, cheerful day, part of my life to me;
For while thou view'st me with thy fading light
Part of my life doth still depart with thee,
And I still onward haste to my last night:
Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly-
So every day we live, a day we die.

But O ye nights, ordain'd for barren rest,
How are my days deprived of life in you
When heavy sleep my soul hath dispossest,
By feigned death life sweetly to renew ;
Part of my life, in that, you life deny :
So every day we live, a day we die.

FOLLOW THY FAIR SUN

FOLLOW thy fair sun, unhappy shadow !
Though thou be black as night

And she made all of light,

Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow !

Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth!
Though here thou liv'st disgraced,

And she in heaven is placed,

Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth!

Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth,
That so have scorchèd thee

As thou still black must be

Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.

Follow her, while yet her glory shineth !
There comes a luckless night
That will dim all her light;

-And this the black unhappy shade divineth.

Follow still, since so thy fates ordainèd !
The sun must have his shade,

Till both at once do fade,

The sun still proved, the shadow still disdainèd.

BEN JONSON

TO CELIA

DRINK to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine,

Or leave a kiss but in the cup

And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.