THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO
HIS LOVE
Come live with me, and be my love;
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, or hills, or field,
Or woods, and steepy mountains yield,—
Where we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed our flocks,
By shallow rivers; to whose falls,
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses;
And, then, a thousand fragrant posies ;
A cap of flowers; and a kirtle,
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Slippers, lined choicely for the cold;
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt, of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps, and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
"The Complete Angler" and Dyce's "Marlowe," iii. 295.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight, each May morning.
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
THE MAID'S ANSWER
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.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold;
Then Philomel becometh dumb,
And age complains of care 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.
What should we talk of dainties, then,
Of better meat than's fit for men?
These are but vain; that's only good
Which God hath blest, and sent for food.
But could youth last; and, love still breed;
Had joys no date; nor age no need;
Then those delights my mind might move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
As inward love breeds outward talk,
The hound some praise, and some the hawk;
Some, better pleased with private sport,
Use tennis; some a mistress court:
But these delights I neither wish
Nor envy,-while I freely fish.
Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride;
Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide;
Who uses games, shall often prove
A loser; but who falls in love,
Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare:
My angle breeds me no such care.
Of recreation there is none
So free as fishing is alone;
All other pastimes do no less
Than mind and body both possess:
My hand alone my work can do;
So I can fish and study too.
I care not, I, to fish in seas;
Fresh rivers best my mind do please;
Whose sweet calm course I contemplate
And seek in life to imitate :
In civil bounds I fain would keep,
And for my past offences weep.
And when the tim'rous trout I wait
To take, and he devours my bait,
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