MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

SIGH

INCONSTANCY OF MEN.

I

no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore;
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so,

But let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, hey nonny, nonny.

2

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy,

Then sigh not so, &c.

HERO'S EPITAPH.

DONE to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies;
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies:
So the life that died with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.

PAR

HYMN AT THE TOMB.

OARDON, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; For the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go.

Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily:

Graves yawn, and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered,

Heavenly, heavenly.

Y on sinful fantasy!

FY

Fy on lust and luxury!
Lust is but a bloody fire,

Kindled with unchaste desire,

Fed in heart; whose flames aspire,

As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher.
Pinch him, fairies, mutually;

Pinch him for his villainy;

Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about,
Till candles, and star-light, and moon-shine be out.

TWELFTH NIGHT.

SWEET-AND-TWENTY.

MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers' meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SLAIN BY LOVE.

COME away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
0, prepare it;

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O where

Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.

THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY.

HEN that I was and a little tiny boy,

WHE

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

A foolish thing was but a toy,

For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my bed,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still had drunken head,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.*

AS YOU LIKE IT.

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

[NDER the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tunet his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall we see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

* The Fool in King Lear sings a snatch of a ballad with the same

burthen :

'He that has and a little tiny wit,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day.'
† In some editions turn.

Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live in the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,

And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

If it do come to pass,
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdàme, ducdàme;
Here shall he see,

Gross fools as he,

An if he will come to me.

INGRATITUDE.

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
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,*
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! &c.

*There was an old Saxon proverb, Winter shall warp water.