Did sing at lovers' meeting:
Then might you see what looks did pass
Where shepherds did assemble,
And where the life of true love was
When hearts could not dissemble.

Then yea and nay was thought an oath
That was not to be doubted,

And when it came to faith and troth
We were not to be flouted.

Then did they talk of curds and cream,

Of butter, cheese and milk;

There was no speech of sunny beam

Nor of the golden silk.

Then for a gift a row of pins,

A purse, a pair of knives,
Was all the way that love begins;
And so the shepherd wives.

But now we have so much ado,
And are so sore aggrieved,
That when we go about to woo
We cannot be believèd;

Such choice of jewels, rings and chains,
That may but favour move,

And such intolerable pains

Ere one can hit on love;

That if I still shall bide this life
'Twixt love and deadly hate,
I will go learn the country life

Or leave the lover's state.

N. Breton

60.

61.

TUR

True Love

URN all thy thoughts to eyes,
Turn all thy hairs to ears,
Change all thy friends to spies
And all thy joys to fears:

True love will yet be free
In spite of jealousy.

Turn darkness into day,
Conjectures into truth,

Believe what th' envious say,

Let age interpret youth:

True love will yet be free
In spite of jealousy.

Wrest every word and look,
Rack every hidden thought,
Or fish with golden hook;
True love cannot be caught:

For that will still be free
In spite of jealousy.

The Complete Lover

T. Campion

FOR her gait, if she be walking;
Be she sitting, I desire her

For her state's sake; and admire her
For her wit if she be talking;

Gait and state and wit approve her;
For which all and each I love her.

62.

Be she sullen, I commend her
For a modest. Be she merry,
For a kind one her prefer I.
Briefly, everything doth lend her

So much grace, and so approve her,
That for everything I love her.

His Supposed Mistress

IF I freely can discover

W. Browne

What would please me in my lover,
I would have her fair and witty,
Savouring more of court than city;
A little proud, but full of pity;
Light and humourous in her toying;
Oft building hopes, and soon destroying;
Long, but sweet in the enjoying,
Neither too easy, nor too hard:
All extremes I would have barred.

She should be allowed her passions,
So they were but used as fashions;
Sometimes froward, and then frowning,
Sometimes sickish, and then swowning,
Every fit with change still crowning.
Purely jealous I would have her;
Then only constant when I crave her,
'Tis a virtue should not save her.

Thus, nor her delicates would cloy me,
Neither her peevishness annoy me.

B. Jonson

63.

A Lover's Question

MAID, will ye love me, yea or no?

Tell me the truth, and let me go.

It can be no less than a sinful deed,
Trust me truly,

To linger a lover that looks to speed
In due time duly.

You maids, that think yourselves as fine
As Venus and all the Muses nine,

The Father himself, when He first made Man,
Trust me truly,

Made you for his help, when the world began,
In due time duly.

Then sith God's will was even so,
Why should you disdain your lover tho?
But rather with a willing heart

Love him truly:

For in so doing you do but your part;
Let reason rule ye.

Consider, Sweet, what sighs and sobs
Do nip my heart with cruel throbs,
And all, my Dear, for love of you,
Trust me truly;

But I hope that you will some mercy show
In due time duly.

Anon.

64.

Rosalind's Madrigal

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,
His bed amidst my tender breast;
My kisses are his daily feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest:
Ah! wanton, will ye?

And if I sleep, then percheth he
With pretty flight,

And makes his pillow of my knee
The livelong night.

Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He music plays if so I sing;

He lends me every lovely thing,
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:
Whist, wanton, still ye!

Else I with roses every day

Will whip you hence,

And bind you, when you long to play,
For your offence.

I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in;

I'll make you fast it for your sin;

I'll count your power not worth a pin. - Alas! what hereby shall I win

If he gainsay me?