THOMAS DEKKER

O SWEET CONTENT

Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet content!

Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexèd?

O punishment!

Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexèd
To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face.
Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!

Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?

O sweet content!

Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?

O punishment!

Then he that patiently want's burden bears

No burden bears, but is a king, a king!

O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face.

Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!

5

10

15

20

1603.

Smiles awake you when you rise.

Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby:

Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

5

Care is heavy, therefore sleep you;
You are care, and care must keep you.
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby:

Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

ΙΟ

1603.

O SORROW, SORROW

O Sorrow, Sorrow, say, where dost thou dwell?
In the lowest room of hell.
Art thou born of human race?

No, no, I have a furier face.
Art thou in city, town, or court?
I to every place resort.

O, why into the world is Sorrow sent?
Men afflicted best repent.

What dost thou feed on?
Broken sleep.

What takest thou pleasure in?
To weep,

To sigh, to sob, to pine, to groan,

To wring my hands, to sit alone.

O when, O when shall Sorrow quiet have?
Never, never, never, never,

Never till she finds a grave.

1602?

1634.

BEN JONSON

QUEEN AND HUNTRESS, CHASTE AND FAIR

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:

Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;

Cynthia's shining orb was made

Heav'n to clear when day did close:

Bless us, then, with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;

5

ΙΟ

15

5

ΙΟ

Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever;
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.

1600.

EPODE

1600.

15

5

ΙΟ

115

Not to know Vice at all, and keep true state,

Is virtue and not fate.

Next to that virtue, is to know Vice well

And her black spite expel;

Which to effect (since no breast is so sure

Or safe but she'll procure

Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard
Of thoughts to watch and ward

At the eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,
That no strange or unkind

Object arrive there, but the heart, our spy,
Give knowledge instantly

To wakeful Reason, our affections' king,
Who in th' examining

Will quickly taste the treason and commit
Close the close cause of it.

'Tis the securest policy we have,

To make our sense our slave.

But this true course is not embraced by many

By many! scarce by any:

For either our affections do rebel;

Or else the sentinel,

That should ring 'larum to the heart, doth sleep;

Or some great thought doth keep

Back the intelligence, and falsely swears

They are base and idle fears

Whereof the loyal conscience so complains.
Thus by these subtle trains

Do several passions invade the mind,

And strike our Reason blind;

Of which usurping rank, some have thought Love
The first, as prone to move

Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests
In our enflamèd breasts.

But this doth from the cloud of error grow,

Which thus we over-blow:

The thing they here call Love is blind Desire,
Armed with bow, shafts, and fire;

Inconstant, like the sea, of whence 't is born,

Rough, swelling, like a storm;

40

With whom who sails rides on the surge of fear,
And boils, as if he were

In a continual tempest. Now, true love

No such effects doth prove:

That is an essence far more gentle, fine,
Pure, perfect, nay divine;

45

It is a golden chain let down from heaven,
Whose links are bright and even,

That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines
The soft and sweetest minds

50

In equal knots; this bears no brands nor darts,

To murther different hearts,

But in a calm and godlike unity

Preserves community.

O, who is he that in this peace enjoys

55

The elixir of all joys

A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers,
And lasting as her flowers;

Richer than Time, and as Time's virtue rare;

Sober as saddest care;

60

A fixed thought, an eye untaught to glance-
Who, blest with such high chance,

Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,

Cast himself from the spire

Of all his happiness? But soft! I hear

Some vicious fool draw near,

That cries we dream, and swears there's no such thing

As this chaste love we sing.

Peace, Luxury! thou art like one of those

Who, being at sea, suppose,

65

70

Because they move, the continent doth so.

No, Vice, we let thee know,

Though thy wild thoughts with sparrows' wings do fly,

Turtles can chastely die.

And yet (in this t' express ourselves more clear)

We do not number here

75

Such spirits as are only continent

Because lust's means are spent;

Or those who doubt the common mouth of fame,

80

And for their place and name

Cannot so safely sin-their chastity

Is mere necessity;

Nor mean we those whom vows and conscience

85

Have filled with abstinence,

Though we acknowledge who can so abstain

Makes a most blessed gain;

He that for love of goodness hateth ill

Is more crown-worthy still

Than he which for sin's penalty forbears-
His heart sins, though he fears.

But we propose a person like our dove,

Graced with a phoenix' love;

A beauty of that clear and sparkling light,
Would make a day of night,

And turn the blackest sorrows to bright joys;
Whose odorous breath destroys

All taste of bitterness, and makes the air
As sweet as she is fair;

A body so harmoniously composed

As if Nature disclosed

All her best symmetry in that one feature:

O, so divine a creature

Who could be false to? chiefly when he knows

How only she bestows

The wealthy treasure of her love on him,

Making his fortunes swim

In the full flood of her admired perfection?

What savage, brute affection

Would not be fearful to offend a dame

Of this excelling frame?

Much more a noble and right generous mind,

To virtuous moods inclined,