LOVE'S HARVESTERS Roses red, lilies white, And the clear damask hue, Shall on your cheeks alight: Love will adorn you. All you that love or loved before, The fairy-queen Proserpina Bids you increase that loving humour more: They that have not fed On delight amorous She vows that they shall lead Apes in Avernus. XLVII T. Campion. LOVE'S HARVESTERS ALL ye that lovely lovers be Lo here we come a-sowing, a-sowing, In your sweet hearts well may it prove! Lo here we come a-reaping, a-reaping, And thus we pass the year so long, Geo. Peele. 39 XLVIII THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO COME live with me and be my Love, And I will make thee beds of roses A gown made of the finest wool A belt of straw and ivy-buds With coral clasps and amber studs: The shepherd swains shall dance and sing C. Marlowe. HER REPLY 41 XLIX HER REPLY If all the world and love were young, But Time drives flocks from field to fold; The flowers do fade, the wanton fields Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, To come to thee and be thy Love. But could youth last, and love still breed, Sir W. Raleigh. Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither; No enemy But winter and rough weather. JAQUES replies: If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. Shakespeare. AMIENS' SONG 43 LI AMIENS' SONG BLOW, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then heigh ho, the holly: This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not. Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then heigh ho, the holly! This life is most jolly. Shakespeare. |