CHORUS.

Wines indeed, and girls are good,
But brave victuals feast the blood.
For wenches, wine and lusty cheer,
Jove would leap down to surfeit here.

(From "Alexander and Campaspe." The plays of Lilly were republished in 1632, under the title of "Six Court Comedies." See Ellis's Specimens, vol. 2, p. 211.]

LOVE FOR LOVE.

FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE.

Away

Born 1554-Died 1628.

Away with these self-loving lads,
Whom Cupid's arrow never glads!
poor souls that sigh and weep,
In love of those that lie asleep!
For Cupid is a merry god,
And forceth none to kiss the rod.

Sweep Cupid's shafts like destiny
Do causeless good or ill decree;
Desert is borne out of his bow,

Reward

upon

his wing doth go!

What fools are they that have not known,

That Love likes no laws but his own.

My songs they be of Cynthia's praise,
I wear her rings on holidays,

In every tree I write her name,
And every day I read the same.

Where Honour Cupid's rival is,
There miracles are seen of his !

If Cynthia crave her ring of me,
I blot her name out of the tree :
If doubt do darken things held dear,
Then well-fare nothing once a year!

For many run, but one must win!
Fools only hedge the cuckoo in.

The worth that worthiness should move
Is love, that is the bow of Love;
And love as well the foster* can,
As can the mighty noble-man.

Sweet saint, 'tis true, you worthy be:

Yet, without love, nought worth to me.

["Servant to Queen Elizabeth, Counsellor to King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sidney." Such was the inscription this well known character wished placed on his tomb.]

* An old contraction for forester.

PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.

NICHOLAS BRETON.

Born about 1555.

In the merrie month of Maye
In a morne by break of daye
With a troope of damsels playing
Forthe-'I yode-forsooth a maying

When anon by a wood side,
Where as Maye was in his pride
I espied all alone,

Phillida and Corydon.

Much adoe there was, god wot;
He wold love and she wold not.
She sayde, never man was trewe;
He sayes, none was false to you.

He sayde, hee had lovde her longe :
She sayes, love should have no wronge.
Corydon wold kisse her then:

She sayes, maydes must kisse no men.

Tyll they doe for good and all—
When she made the shepperde call
All the heavens to wytnes truthe,
Never loved a truer youthe.

• I went.

C

Then with manie a prettie othe,
Yea and nay, and faith and trothe;
Such as seelie shepperdes use
When they will not love abuse;

Love, that had bene long deluded,
Was with kisses sweete concluded;
And Phillida with garlands gaye
Was made the lady of the Maye.

[This little pastoral song was sung before Queen Elizabeth at Elvetham in Hampshire-as she opened the casement of her gallery win. dow in the morning, by "three excellent musitians, disguised in auncient country attire." See Percy's Reliques, vol. 3, p. 105, whose version I have followed in preference to that given in England's Helicon, which is here subjoined.

In the merry month of May,
In a morne by break of day,
Forth I walk'd by the wood-side,
When as May was in his pride:
There I espied all alone,
Phillida and Corydon.

Much a doo there was, God wot,
He would love and she would not.
She said never man was true,
He said, none was false to you,
He said he had lou'd her long,

She said, Love should have no wrong.

Coridon would kiss her then,

She said, maides must kiss no men,

Till they did for good and all:

Then she made the shepherd call

All the heavens to witnesse truth:

Neuer lou'd a truer youth.

Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troath,

* Silly.

Such as silly shepheards use
When they will not Love abuse.

Loue which had beene long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded.

And Phillida with garlands gay,

Was made the lady of the May.-N. BRETONx.]
FINIS.

With feeble puffs the tallest pine
In tract of time doth fall;
The hardest heart in time doth yield
To Venus' luring call.

Where chilling frost alate did nip,

There flasheth now a fire;

Where deep

disdain bred noisome hate,

There kindleth now desire.

Time causeth hope to have his hap:

What

care in time not eas'd?

In time I loath'd that now I love

In both content and pleased.

[There is great beauty about the smaller poems of Greene. His poetical works were reprinted lately under the careful superinten.

dence of Mr. Dyce.]