And none but Love their woeful hap did rue, For Love did know that their desires were true; Though Fate frownèd, And now drownèd They in sorrow dwell, It was the purest light of heaven for whose fair love they fell.
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
"Maids are simple," some men say, "They forsooth will trust no men." But should they men's wills obey, Maids were very simple then.
Truth a rare flower now is grown, Few men wear it in their hearts; Lovers are more easily known By their follies than deserts.
Safer may we credit give To a faithless wandering Jew, Than a young man's vows believe When he swears his love is true.
Love they make a poor blind child, But let none trust such as he; Rather than to be beguiled, Ever let me simple be.
Maids to bed and cover coal; Let the mouse out of her hole; Crickets in the chimney sing Whilst the little bell doth ring; If fast asleep, who can tell When the clapper hits the bell?
From MARTIN PEERSON's _Mottects or Grave Chamber-Music_, 1630.
More than most fair, full of all heavenly fire, Kindled above to shew the Maker's glory; Beauty's first-born, in whom all powers conspire To write the Graces' life and Muses' story; If in my heart all nymphs else be defacèd, Honour the shrine where you alone are placèd.
Thou window of the sky, and pride of spirits, True character of honour in perfection, Thou heavenly creature, judge of earthly merits, And glorious prison of men's pure affection: If in my heart all nymphs else be defacèd Honour the shrine where you alone are placèd.
From THOMAS VAUTOR's _Songs of divers Airs and Natures_, 1619.
Mother, I will have a husband, And I will have him out of hand! Mother, I will sure have one In spite of her that will have none.
John-a-Dun should have had me long ere this: He said I had good lips to kiss. Mother, I will sure have one In spite of her that will have none.
For I have heard 'tis trim when folks do love; By good Sir John I swear now I will prove. For, Mother, I will sure have one In spite of her that will have none.
To the town, therefore, will I gad To get me a husband, good or bad. Mother, I will sure have one In spite of her that will have none.
From MICHAEL ESTE's _Madrigals of Three, Four and Five Parts_, 1604.