How mighty men made foul successless war How Phorcyas' 'ympe, that was so trick and fair That tangled Neptune in her golden hair, A piece of cunning, trust me, for the nones, Turns men to women all through wantonness; How fair Narcissus tooting on his shade, Reproves disdain, and tells how form doth vade; What force in love, what wit in sorrow dwells; They say because on earth they liv'd not well,- How Danaus' daughters ply their endless task, All these are old and known I know, yet, if thou wilt have any, Choose some of these, for, trust me, else none hath not many. Par. Nay, what thou wilt: but sith my cunning not compares with thine, Begin some toy that I can play upon this pipe of mine. En. There is a pretty sonnet, then, we call it Cupid's Curse, "They that do change old love for new, pray gods they change for worse!" [They sing. En. Fair and fair, and twice so fair, The fairest shepherd on our green, Par. Fair and fair, and twice so fair, Thy love is fair for thee alone, En. My love is fair, my love is gay, My merry, merry, merry roundelay, En. My love can pipe, my love can sing, My merry, merry roundelays, Amen to Cupid's curse, They that do change old love for new, Pray gods they change for worse! Fair and fair, &c. Both. Fair and fair, &c. repeated. To my esteemed friend, and excellent musician, V. N., Esq. DEAR SIR, I conjure you, in the name of all the sylvan deities, and of the Muses, whom you honour, and they reciprocally love and honour you,-rescue this old and passionate ditty-the very flower of an old forgotten pastoral, which had it been in all parts equal, the Faithful Shepherdess of Fletcher had been but a second name in this sort of writing-rescue it from the profane hands of every common composer; and in one of your tranquillest moods, when you have most leisure from those sad thoughts, which sometimes unworthily beset you; yet a mood, in itself not unallied to the better sort of melancholy; laying by for once the lofty organ, with which you shake the Temples; attune, as to the pipe of Paris himself, to some milder and more love-according instrument, this pretty courtship between Paris and his (then-not as yet-forsaken) Enone. Oblige me, and all more knowing judges of music and of poesy, by the adaptation of fit musical numbers, which it only wants to be the rarest love dialogue in our language. Your implorer, C. L. THE BATTLE OF ALCAZAR, BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 1594. MULY MAHAMET, driven from his throne into a desert, robs the lioness to feed his fainting wife CALIPOLIS. Muly. Hold thee, Calipolis, feed, and faint no more; Meat of a princess, for a princess meet : Who, when she saw her foragement bereft, So she, redoubling her former force, Rang'd through the woods, and rent the breeding vaults Of proudest savages to save herself. Feed, then, and faint not, fair Calipolis; [This address, for its barbaric splendour of conception, extravagant vein of promise, not to mention some idiomatic peculiarities, and the very structure of the verse, savours strongly of Marlowe ; but the real author, I believe, is unknown.] THE LOVE OF KING BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 1599. BETHSABE, with her maid, bathing. She sings: and DAVID sits above, viewing her. The Song. HOT sun, cool fire, temper'd with sweet air, Inflame unstaid desire, Nor pierce any bright eye Bethsabe. Come, gentle Zephyr, trick'd with those perfumes That erst in Eden sweeten'd Adam's love, David. What tunes, what words, what looks, what wonders pierce My soul, incensed with a sudden fire? What tree, what shade, what spring, what paradise, Enjoys the beauty of so fair a dame? Fair Eva, plac'd in perfect happiness, Lending her praise-notes to the liberal heavens, Struck with the accents of archangels' tunes, Wrought not more pleasure to her husband's thoughts, Than this fair woman's words and notes to mine. That precious fount bear sand of purest gold; That hangs, like chains of pearl, on Hermon hill, Enter CUSAY. See, Cusay, see the flower of Israel, The fairest daughter that obeys the king Brighter than inside bark of new-hewn cedar, |