CELANTA AT THE WELL OF LIFE.

A Head comes up with ears of corn, and she combs them in her lap.

G

Voice.

ENTLY dip, but not too deep,

For fear you make the golden beard to weep. Fair maiden, white and red,

Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,

And thou shalt have some cockell-bread.

A Second Head comes up full of gold, which she combs into her lap.

Sec. Head. Gently dip, but not too deep, For fear thou make the golden beard to weep. Fair maid, white and red,

Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,

And every hair a sheaf shall be,

And every sheaf a golden tree.

From GEORGE PEELE's David and Bethsabe, 1599.

BETHSABE BATHING.

HOT sun, cool fire, tempered with sweet air,

Black shade, fair nurse, shadow my white hair: Shine, sun; burn, fire; breathe, air, and ease me; Black shade, fair nurse, shroud me, and please me : Shadow, my sweet nurse, keep me from burning, Make not my glad cause cause of mourning. Let not my beauty's fire Inflame unstaid desire, Nor pierce any bright eye That wandereth lightly.

From LODGE and GREENE'S A
Looking Glass for London and
England, 1594.

DO ME RIGHT AND DO ME REASON.

BE

EAUTY, alas! where wast thou born,
Thus to hold thyself in scorn?

Whenas Beauty kissed to woo thee,
Thou by Beauty dost undo me :
Heigh-ho despise me not.

I and thou in sooth are one,

Fairer thou, I fairer none :

Wanton thou, and wilt thou, wanton,
Yield a cruel heart to plant on?
Do me right, and do me reason;
Cruelty is cursed treason:

Heigh-ho! I love, heigh-ho! I love,
Heigh-ho! and yet he eyes me not.

From THOMAS NASHE'S Summer's

Last Will and Testament, 1600.

SPRING, THE SWEET SPRING.

PRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant

SPRI

king;

Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo.

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo.

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo.

Spring, the sweet spring!

A-MAYING, A-PLAYING.

TRI

RIP and go! heave and ho!
Up and down, to and fro,
From the town to the grove,
Two and two, let us rove
A-maying, a-playing:
Love hath no gainsaying,

So merrily trip and go!

FAIR

FADING SUMMER.

AIR summer droops, droop men and beasts therefore,

So fair a summer look for never more:

All good things vanish less than in a day,
Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay.

Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year,
The earth is hell when thou leav'st to appear.
What, shall those flowers that decked thy garland erst,
Upon thy grave be wastefully dispersed?
O trees, consume your sap in sorrow's source,
Streams, turn to tears your tributary course.

Go not yet hence, bright soul of the sad year,
The earth is hell when thou leav'st to appear.

WINTER, PLAGUE, AND PESTILENCE.

AUTUMN hath all the summer's fruitful treasure;

Gone is our sport, fled is our Croydon's pleasure! Short days, sharp days, long nights come on apace : Ah, who shall hide us from the winter's face? Cold doth increase, the sickness will not cease, And here we lie, God knows, with little ease. From winter, plague and pestilence, good Lord, deliver us!

London doth mourn, Lambeth is quite forlorn!
Trades cry, woe worth that ever they were born!
The want of term is town and city's harm;
Close chambers we do want to keep us warm.
Long banished must we live from our friends:
This low-built house will bring us to our ends.
From winter, plague and pestilence, good Lord,
deliver us !