How that a life was but a flower In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. As You Like It. TO SILVIA WHO is Silvia? What is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind, as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness; To help him of his blindness: Then to Silvia let us sing, The Two Gentlemen of Verona. SONGS OF THE GREENWOOD I UNDER the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat — Come hither, come hither, come hither! Who doth ambition shun And pleased with what he gets - No enemy But winter and rough weather. II Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh ho! the holly! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not. Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh ho! the holly! This life is most jolly. As You Like It. On chaliced flowers that lies; Cymbelin LOVE FORSWORN TAKE, O take those lips away Bring again Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, Measure for Measure. SIGH NO MORE, LADIES! SIGH no more, ladies, sigh no more, Sing no more ditties, sing no moe Then sigh not so, but let them go, Much Ado About Nothing. THE LOVER'S DESPAIR COME away, come away, Death, My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, My part of death, no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: Sad true lover never find my grave, Twelfth Night. A SEA DIRGE. FULL fathom five thy father lies: Those are pearls that were his eyes: But doth suffer a sea-change The Tempest. OPHELIA'S SONGS I How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head, a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. White his shroud as the mountain snow, II They bore him barefaced on the bier; And will he not come again? Go to thy death-bed : He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll; He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: God ha' mercy on his soul! Hamlet. |