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Folly, and vice are actors: the first cry
The prologue to the ensuing tragedy.
The former act consisteth of dumb shows;
The second, he to more perfection grows;
I'th third he is a man, and doth begin

To nurture vice, and act the deeds of sin:
I'th the fourth declines; i'th fifth diseases clog
And trouble him; then death's his epilogue!

A Nymph's Disdain of Love.
HEY, down, a down, did Dian sing,
Amongst her virgins sitting:
Than love there is no vainer thing,
For maidens most unfitting:

And so think I, with a down, down, derry.

When women knew no woe,

But liv'd themselves to please,
Men's feigning guiles they did not know

The ground of their disease.
Unborn was False Suspect,

No thought of Jealousy:

From wanton toys and Fond Affect,

The virgin's life was free.

Hey, down, a down, did Dian sing, &c.

At length men used charms,

To which what maids gave ear,
Embracing gladly endless harms,
Anon, enthralled were.
Thus women welcom'd woe,
Disguis'd in name of love:

A jealous hell, a painted show,
So shall they find that prove.

Hey, down, a down, did Dian sing,
Amongst her virgins sitting:

RALEGH, MISC. WORKS.

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Than love there is no vainer thing,

For maidens most unfitting:

And so think I, with a down, down, derry.

The Shepherd's Description of Love.

Melibeus. SHEPHERD, what's love, I pray thee tell?
Faustus. It is that fountain, and that well,
Where pleasure and repentance dwell:
It is, perhaps, that sauncing & bell,
That tolls all into heaven or hell:
And this is love, as I heard tell.
Meli. Yet what is love, I prithee say?
Faust. It is a work on holyday,

It is December match'd with May,
When lusty bloods in fresh array
Hear ten months after of the play:
And this is love, as I hear say.

Meli. Yet what is love, good Shepherd sain?
Faust. It is a sunshine mix'd with rain;
It is a toothach; or like pain;
It is a game, where none doth gain.
The lass saith no, and would full fain:
And [this] is love, as I hear sain.

Meli. Yet, Shepherd, what is love, I pray?
Faust. It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray,

It is a thing will soon away;

Then nymphs take 'vantage while ye may :
And this is love, as I hear say.

Meli. Yet what is love, good Shepherd show?
Faust. A thing that creeps, it cannot go;

A prize that passeth to and fro,

A thing for one, a thing for mo,
And he that proves shall find it so,
And, Shepherd, this is love I trow.

"Sounding."

Hymn.

RISE, O my soul, with thy desires to Heaven,
And with divinest contemplation use

Thy time where time's eternity is given,

And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse; But down in darkness let them lie:

So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die!

And thou, my soul, inspir'd with holy flame,
View and review with most regardful eye
That holy cross, whence thy salvation came,
On which thy Saviour and thy sin did die!
For in that sacred object is much pleasure,
And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure.

To thee, O Jesu! I direct my eye,

To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees;
To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice,

To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees:
To thee myself, myself and all I give;
To thee I die, to thee I only live!

SONG.

By Christopher Marlow.

COME, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That grove or valley, hill or field,
Or wood and steepy mountain yield.

Where we will sit on rising rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

Pleas'd will I make thee beds of roses,
And twine a thousand fragrant posies;

A cap of flowers, and rural kirtle,
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A jaunty gown of finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
And shoes lin'd choicely for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw, and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps, and amber studs;
If these, these pleasures, can thee move,
To live with me, and be my love!

THE ANSWER.

By Sir Walter Ralegh.

If all the world and love were young,
And truth on every shepherd's tongue,
These pleasures might my passion move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

This poem is printed thus in " England's Helicon."
The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd.

IF all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complain of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,

Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw, and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move,

To come to thee, and be thy love.

But

But fading flowers in every field
To winter floods their treasures yield;
A honey'd tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gown, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Are all soon wither'd, broke, forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw, and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs,
Can me with no enticements move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

But could youth last, could love still breed;
Had joys no date, had age no need;
Then those delights my mind might move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

Another of the same nature made since.
COME, live with me, and be my dear,
And we will revel all the year,

In plains and groves, on hills and dales,
Where fragrant air breeds sweetest gales.

There shall you have the beauteous pine,
The cedar and the spreading vine;
And all the woods to be a screen,
Lest Phoebus kiss my summer's queen.

The seat for your disport shall be
Over some river in a tree;

But could youth last, and love still breed;
Had joys no date, nor age no need;
Then these delights my mind might move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

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