Phillida And Coridon
IN the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walk'd by the wood-side
When as May was in his pride:
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Coridon.
Much ado there was, God wot!
He would love and she would not.
She said, Never man was true;
He said, None was false to you.
He said, He had loved her long;
She said, Love should have no wrong.
Coridon would kiss her then;
She said, Maids must kiss no men
Till they did for good and all;
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not Love abuse,
Love, which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded;
And Phillida, with garlands gay,
Was made the Lady of the May.
Invective: The Hate Of Treason
O the sweet sence of love's humilitie !
Which feares displeasure in a dearest friend,
The onely note of Truth's nobilitie,
Whose worthy grace is graced without end;
For who wants faith, wants little of a friend;
While faithfull love, in humble truth approved,
Doth euer Hue, of God and man beloued.
Alas ! the little time of Nature's leave,
To runne the course of her allotted care,
Where idle shadowes the eie deceaue,
That onely hunteth after Fortune's show,
And bad must leaue it, ere it be aware:
Looke, looke at heauen, and let the world go by,
Better to die to Hue, than Hue to die.
Let pride be hatefull vnto euery state,—
It is a vice with vertue not allowed;
And such a vice as vertue hath in hate,
For vertue neuer makes the spirit prowde,
And in advauncement of nobilitie
Gives greatest graces, Truth's humilitie.
Which grace is gracious in the sight of God,
Makes men as saints and women angells seeme,
Makes sinne forgotten, mercy vse no rod,
And constant faith to prooue in great esteeme;
While wisdome's care can neuer truth misdeem,
But is in some a blessing of the highest,
And to the nature of himself the nighest.
A Prayer
Oh, with thy grace my heart inspire,
To bring forth fruites of thy desire.
Give me thy Peters penitence,
Paul's faith, and Job his patience,
And Marie's grace, and John his loue,
That in my heart I may approue.
When all these graces meete in mee,
What ioy my soule shall have in thee:
But oh, my God ! my heart cloth ake,
My soule with trembling fear doth quake,
That sinne hath brought me in such plight
As makes me ouglie in thy sight;
And I (O wretch !) am one of those
Whom thou hast reckoned for thy foes,
And that thy mercie will not heare me,
Nor comfort euer shall come near mee ;
My prayer turned into sinne,
No gate of grace shall enter in ;
But all my thoughts are farre amisse,
Shall banisht be from hope of blisse ;
And my poore soule, by sinne's desart,
Condemn'd vnto eternall smart.
And yet again, meethinks, I see
How thy great mercie lookes on mee,
And tels me faith may be victorious,
While grace will be in mercie glorious,
And what true hartes do truelie proue,
That turne to thee in teares of loue;
In which vnfaigned faithfull teares,
Wherein the wofull spirit weares,
I humbly fall at mercie's feete,
Where grace, and loue, and glorie meete;
And in teares of true contrition
Thus makes my wofull soule's petition :
In mercie looke on me, deare God ;
Forgive my sinnes, forbeare thy rod;
Behold my griefe and ease my paine,
And take me to thy grace againe,
That I may see that bright Sunne shine,
Whose glorie neuer can decline ;
Where I with Simeon's ioy may sing
When I embrace my holy King,
And sinne and sorrowes cease,
As my soule may rest in peace.
