IGNOTO.

XLIV. PHILLIDA'S LOVE-CALL.

From England's Helicon (1600).

Phillida. CORYDON, arise, my Corydon,

Titan shineth clear.

Corydon. Who is that calleth Corydon,
Who is it that I hear?

Phillida. Phillida, thy true love, calleth thee,
Arise then, arise then;

Arise and keep thy flock with me.

Corydon. Phillida, my true love, is it she?

I come then, I come then,

I come and keep my flock with thee.

Phillida. Here are cherries ripe, my Corydon,
Eat them for my sake.

Corydon. Here's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,
Sport for thee to make.

Phillida. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk,
To knit thee, to knit thee

A pair of stockings white as milk.

Corydon. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat, To make thee, to make thee

A bonnet to withstand the heat.

Phillida. I will gather flowers, my Corydon,
To set in thy cap.

Corydon. I will gather pears, my lovely one,
To put in thy lap.

Phillida. I will buy my true love garters gay,
For Sundays, for Sundays,

To wear about his legs so tall.

Corydon. I will buy my true love yellow say1,
For Sundays, for Sundays,

To wear about her middle small.

Phillida. When my Corydon sits on a hill
Making melody-

Corydon. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,
Singing cheerily—

Phillida. Sure methinks my true love doth excel
For sweetness, for sweetness,

Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight.

Corydon. And methinks my true love bears the bell For clearness, for clearness,

Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.

Phillida. Had my Corydon, my Corydon,
Been (alack) her swain:

Corydon. Had my lovely one, my lovely one,
Been in Ida plain:

Phillida. Cynthia Endymion had refused,
Preferring, preferring

My Corydon to play withal.

Corydon. The queen of love had been excused,
Bequeathing, bequeathing

My Phillida the golden ball.

Phillida. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon,
Whither shall I fly?

Corydon. Under yonder beech, my lovely one,
While she passeth by.

Phillida. Say to her thy true love was not here:
Remember, remember,

To-morrow is another day.

Corydon. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear: Farewell then, farewell then,

Heaven keep our loves alway.

DIAPHENIA like the daffadowndilly,

White as the sun, fair as the lily,

Heigh ho, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as my lambs

Are beloved of their dams;

How blest were I if thou would'st prove me.

Diaphenia like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,

Fair sweet, how I do love thee!

I do love thee as each flower

Loves the sun's life-giving power;
For dead, thy breath to life might move me.

Diaphenia like to all things blessed,
When all thy praises are expressed,

Dear joy, how I do love thee!

As the birds do love the spring,
Or the bees their careful king:
Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!

(M 80)

K

NICHOLAS BRETON.

(1545-1626.)

XLVI. OLDEN LOVE-MAKING.

Printed by Dr. Grosart in his elaborate edition of Breton's Works from the Cosens MS.

Ν

IN time of yore when shepherds dwelt

Upon the mountain-rocks;

And simple people never felt

The pain of lovers' mocks:
But little birds would carry tales
"Twixt Susan and her sweeting,
And all the dainty nightingales

Did sing at lovers' meeting:
Then might you see what looks did pass
Where shepherds did assemble,
And where the life of true love was

When hearts could not dissemble.

Then "yea" and "nay" was thought an oath
That was not to be doubted,

And when it came to "faith" and "troth",
We were not to be flouted.

Then did they talk of curds and cream,

Of butter, cheese, and milk;

There was no speech of sunny beam

Nor of the golden silk.

Then for a gift a row of pins,

A purse, a pair of knives,

Was all the way that love begins;

And so the shepherd wives.

But now we have so much ado,
And are so sore aggrieved,
That when we go about to woo

We cannot be believed;

Such choice of jewels, rings, and chains,
That may but favour move,
And such intolerable pains

Ere one can hit on love;
That if I still shall bide this life
"Twixt love and deadly hate,
I will go learn the country life
Or leave the lover's state.

XLVII. PHILLIDA AND CORIDON.

This was printed in The Queen's Majesty's Entertainment at Elvetham (1591), but it is not supposed that the whole of that Entertainment is by Breton. It also appeared in England's Helicon (1600).

N the merry month of May,

IN

In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walk'd by the wood side
When as May was in his pride;
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Coridon.

Much ado there was, God wot;
He would love and she would not;
She said, never man was true;
He said, none was false to you;

He said, he had loved her long;
She said, love should have no wrong.
Coridon would kiss her then;
She said, maids must kiss no men
Till they did for good and all:
Then she made the shepherd call