Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet; Within mine eyes he makes his nest, My kisses are his daily feast; And if I sleep, then percheth he And makes his pillow of my knee 1584. 25 30 5 ΙΟ 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, I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in; I'll count your power not worth a pin: If he gainsay me? What if I beat the wanton boy He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then, sit thou safely on my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be; Lurk in mine eyes; I like of thee: Spare not, but play thee. About 1588. 15 20 25 30 35 1590. ROSALIND'S DESCRIPTION Like to the clear in highest sphere Whether unfolded or in twines. Heigh ho, would she were mine! 5 ΙΟ Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud Or like the silver crimson shroud That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace. Her lips are like two budded roses Heigh ho, would she were mine! 15 20 Then muse not, nymphs, though I bemoan Nor for her virtues so divine. Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine! About 1588. 1590. 45 ROBERT GREENE THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing, For kings have cares that wait upon a crown, Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, His flocks are folded; he comes home at night And merrier too; For kings bethink them what the state require, Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat His cream and curds as doth the king his meat, For kings have often fears when they do sup, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, 25 To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween, For kings have many griefs affects to move, Where shepherds have no greater grief than love. 30 Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound 35 |