Whether men do laugh or weep, Whether they do wake or sleep, Whether they die young or old, Whether they feel heat or cold; There is underneath the sun Nothing in true earnest done.
All our pride is but a jest, None are worst and none are best; Grief and joy and hope and fear Play their pageants everywhere: Vain Opinion all doth sway, And the world is but a play.
Powers above in clouds do sit, Mocking our poor apish wit, That so lamely with such state Their high glory imitate. No ill can be felt but pain, And that happy men disdain.
From WILLIAM BYRD's _Songs of Sundry Natures_, 1589.
While that the sun with his beams hot Scorchèd the fruits in vale and mountain, Philon, the shepherd, late forgot Sitting beside a chrystal fountain In shadow of a green oak-tree, Upon his pipe this song play'd he: Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
So long as I was in your sight, I was your heart, your soul, your treasure; And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd, Burning in flames beyond all measure. Three days endured your love for me, And it was lost in other three. Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Another shepherd you did see, To whom your heart was soon enchainèd; Full soon your love was leapt from me, Full soon my place he had obtainèd: Soon came a third your love to win; And we were out, and he was in. Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new Love.
Sure, you have made me passing glad That you your mind so soon removèd, Before that I the leisure had To choose you for my best belovèd: For all my love was past and done Two days, before it was begun. Adieu, Love! adieu, Love! untrue Love! Untrue Love, untrue Love! adieu, Love! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
From THOMAS WEELKES' _Ballets and Madrigals_, 1598.
Whilst youthful sports are lasting, To feasting turn our fasting. Fa la la!
With revels and with wassails Make grief and care our vassals. Fa la la!
For youth it well beseemeth That pleasure he esteemeth. Fa la la!
And sullen age is hated That mirth would have abated. Fa la la!