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Pack, Clouds, Away
Love, which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded;
And Phillida, with garlands gay,
Was made the Lady of the May.

Nicholas Breton.

1591.

PACK, CLOUDS, AWAY

From The Rape of Lucrece

PACK, clouds, away, and welcome day,

With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air, blow soft, mount, lark, aloft

To give my Love good-morrow!
Wings from the wind to please her mind,

Notes from the lark I 'll borrow;
Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing,
To give my Love good-morrow;

To give my Love good-morrow,
Notes from them both I 'll borrow.

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Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast,

Sing, birds, in every furrow ; And from each bill, let music shrill

Give my fair Love good-morrow! Blackbird and thrush in every bush,

Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow! You pretty elves, amongst yourselves Sing my fair Love good-morrow;

To give my Love good-morrow,

Sing, birds, in every furrow! 1608.

Thomas Heywood.

20

LOVE IS A SICKNESS

From Hymen's Triumph

LOVE is a sickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing;
A plant that most with cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.

Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies; .
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries

Heigh-ho!

8

Love is a torment of the mind,

A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind,
Not well, nor full, nor fasting.

Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries
Heigh-ho!

16 Samuel Daniel.

1615.

TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY

MERRY Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,
Or hawk of the tower;

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To Mistress Margaret Hussey

With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
So joyously,
So maidenly,
So womanly
Her demeaning,
In everything
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write
Of merry Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower;
As patient and as still,
And as full of good-will,
As fair Isiphil,
Coliander,
Sweet Pomander,
Good Cassander;
Stedfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought;
Far may be sought,
Ere you can find
So courteous, so kind,
As merry Margaret,
This midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,
Or hawk of the tower.

John Skelton.

20

30

1523.

THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION

SHALL I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman's fair ?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flow'ry meads in May,

If she think not well of me,
What care I how fair she be?

8

Shall my silly heart be pined
'Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well disposed nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder, than
Turtle-dove or pelican,

If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?

16

Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deservings known
Make me quite forget my own?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may merit name of Best,

If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be?

24

A Welcome

'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool and die?
She that bears a noble mind,
If not outward helps she find,
Thinks what with them he would do
That without them dares her woo;

And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?

32

Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair ;
If she love me, this believe,
I will die ere she shall grieve;
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;

For if she be not for me,
What care I for whom she be?

George Wither.

40

1617.

A WELCOME

Welcome, welcome! do I sing,
Far more welcome than the spring;
He that parteth from you never
Shall enjoy a spring for ever.

4

He that to the voice is near

Breaking from your iv'ry pale,
Need not walk abroad to hear

The delightful nightingale.

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