Then to Sylvia let us sing, That Sylvia is excelling; SONG. [In "Cymbeline."] FEAR no more the heat o' th' sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' th' great, Care no more to clothe and eat, Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor th' all-dreaded thunder stone; Fear not slander, censure rash, Thou hast finished joy and moan. All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust. No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee ! And renowned be thy grave! SONG. [From "As you Like it."] UNDER the green-wood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither; Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' the sun; Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: No enemy But winter and rough weather. SONNET. BEING your slave, what should I do, but tend Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, When you have bid your servant once adieu ! Nor dare I question with my jealous thought, Where you may be, or your affairs suppose; But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save where you are: how happy you make those! So true a fool is love, that in your will Tho' you do any thing, he thinks no ill, [From "The Passionate Pilgrim" 1599, corrected from a MS. by Mr. Malone. Vide his edition.] WHEN as thine eye hath chose the dame, And stall'd the deer that thou would'st strike, Let Reason rule things worthy blame, As well as Fancy (partial tike !): Take counsel of some wiser head, Neither too young, nor yet unwed. And when thou com'st thy tale to tell, And to her will frame all thy ways, The strongest castle, tower, and town, Serve always with assured trust, Seek never thou to choose anew. When time shall serve be thou not slack What though her frowning brows be bent, And then too late she will repent That she dissembled her delight; And twice desire, ere it be day, What though she strive to try her strength, And ban, and brawl, and say thee nay; Her feeble force will yield at length, When craft hath taught her thus to say :"Had women been so strong as men, "In faith, you had not had it then." The wiles and guiles that women work, The tricks and toys that in them lurk, But soft; enough,-too much (I fear); |