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24

GEORGE GASCOIGNE.

THE LULLABY OF A LOVER.

Sing lullabies, as women do,

With which they charm their babes to rest;
And lullaby can I sing too,

As womanly as can the best.
With lullaby they still the child ;
And, if I be not much beguild,
Full
many

babes have I,
Which must be stillid with lullaby.

wanton

First lullaby my youthful years :

It is now time to go to bed :
For crooked age, and hoary hairs,

Have wore the haven within mine head.
With lullaby then youth be still,
With lullaby content thy will;
Since courage quails, and comes behind,
Go Neep, and so beguile thy mind,

Next, lullaby my gazing eyes,

Which wonted were to glance apace ;
For ev'ry glass may now fuffice.

To shew the furrows in my face.
With lullaby then wink awhile ;
With lullaby your looks beguile;
Let no fair face, or beauty bright,
Entice you efte with vain delight,

And lullaby, my wanton will,

Let reason's rule now rein thy thought,
Since all too late I find by skill,

How dear I have thy fancies bought;
With lullaby now take thine ease,
With lullaby thy doubt appease ;
For, trust in this, if thou be still,
My body shall obey thy will.

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Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes,

My will, my ware, and all that was ;
I can no moře delays devise;

But, welcome pain, let pleasure pass.
With lullaby now take your leave,
With lullaby your dreams deceive,
And, when you rise with waking eye,
Remember then this lullaby.

THE DOLE OF DESPAIR,

WRITTEN BY A LOVER

Disdainfully rejected, contrary to former Promises.

I must alledge, and thou canst tell

How faithfully I vow'd to serve:
And how thou seem’dst to like me well;

And how thou faidst I did deserve
To be thy Lord, thy Knight, thy King,
And how much more I list not sing.

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And canst thou now, thou cruel one;

Condemn desert to deep despair?
Is all thy promise paft and gone?

Is faith so fled into the air ?
If that be so, what rests for me,
But thus, in fong, to say to thee:

If Cressid's name were not so known,

And written wide on every wall ;
If bruit of pride were not so blown

Upon Angelica withall;
For hault disdain, you might be she;
Or Cressid for inconstancy.

And in reward of thy desert,

I hope at last to see thee paid With deep repentance for thy part

Which thou hast now so lewdly play'd; Medoro, he must be thy make, Since thou Orlando doft forsake.

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR.

SONG.
Blow, blow thou Winter-wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude :
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.
Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
Thou doft not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy fting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.

SONNET. ON

n a day, (alack the day!) Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom, passing fair, Playing in the wanton air. Through the velvet leaves the wind All unfeen 'gan passage find, That the lover, fick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow;Air, would I might triumph so! But, alack! my hand is sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn,

Vow, alack! for youth unmeet,
Youth fo apt to pluck a sweet;
Do not call it sin in me
That I am forsworn for thee ;
Thou, for whom ev'n Jove would swear
Juno but an Æthiop were ;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

SPRING, A SONG. When daisies pied and violets blue,

And lady-smocks, all filver white,
And cuckow-buds, of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men, for thus sings he;
Cuckow !
Cuckow ! cuckow ! O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.

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When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws,

And maidens bleach their summer smocks;
The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men, for thus fings he ;
Cuckow!
Cuckow ! Cuckow ! O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.

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