Thomas Lodge

Phillis

Love guards the roses of thy lips,
And flies about them like a bee:

If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.

Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shrine;
And if I look the Boy will lour,

And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.

Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,

And of my plaints doth make a game.

Love! let me cull her choicest flowers, '
And pity me, and calm her eye!
Make soft her heart! dissolve her lours!

Then will I praise thy deity.

But if thou do not, Love! I'll truly serve her In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.

Love, Love, Love

TURN I my looks unto the skies,

Love with his arrows wounds my eyes;
If so I gaze upon the ground,

Love then in every flower is found;
Search I the shade to fly my pain,

Love meets me in the shade again;
Want I to walk in secret grove,
E'en there I meet with sacred love;
If so I bathe me in the spring,
E'en on the brink I hear him sing;
If so I meditate alone,

He will be partner of my moan;
If so I mourn, he weeps with me,
And where I am there will he be !

Thomas Watson

was born in London about 1557 and died about 1592. His most important work was A Passionate Centurie of Love, a series of so-called 'sonnets' of eighteen lines each, preceded in every case by a short explanatory note.

The Kiss

IN time long past, when in Diana's chace
A bramble bush pricked Venus in the foot,
Old Esculapius helped her heavy case

Before the hurt had taken any root:

Where hence, although his beard were crisping hard,
She yielded him a kiss for his reward.

My luck was like to his, this other day,

When She whom I on earth do worship most
For kissing me vouchsafèd thus to say-

'Take this for once, and make thereof no boast!'
Forthwith my heart gave signs of joy by skips,
As though our souls had joined by kissing lips.

And since that time I thought it not amiss
To judge which were the best of all these three,—
Her breath, her speech, or that her dainty kiss :
And (sure) of all the kiss best likèd me,

For that it was which did revive my heart,
Oppressed and almost dead with daily smart.

Robert Greene

was born in Norwich in 1550 or 1560. He was educated at Cambridge, and it is said took orders. He certainly studied medicine, and equally certainly neither became a full-fledged clergyman nor physician. His life in London was that of the man of genius who loved pleasure and loathed restraint. Towards the end he was sustained by charity, and at the house of a poor shoemaker he died in 1592.

The Shepherd's Wife's Song

AH, what is love? It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king;
And sweeter too,

For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:

Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

His flocks are folded, he comes home at night,
As merry as a king in his delight;

And merrier too,

For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds careless carol by the fire:
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

Robert Greene

He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat

His cream and curds, as doth the king his meat ; And blither too,

For kings have often fears when they do sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup :
Ah, then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain ?

Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
As doth the king upon his beds of down;
More sounder too,

For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
When weary shepherds lie and snort their fill:
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

Thus with his wife he spends the year, as blithe As doth the king at every tide or sith;

And blither too,

For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
When shepherds laugh and love upon the land:
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain ?