It was the frog in the well,
Humbledum, humbledum,
And the merry mouse in the mill,
Tweedle, tweedle, twino.
The frog would a wooing ride
Sword and buckler by his side.
When he upon his high horse set,
His boots they shone as black as jet.
When he came to the merry mill-pin,--
"Lady Mouse, been you within?"
Then came out the dusty mouse:
"I am Lady of this house:
Hast thou any mind of me?"
"I have e'en great mind of thee?"
"Who shall this marriage make?"
"Our Lord which is the rat,"
"What shall we have to our supper?"
"Three beans in a pound of butter?"
When supper they were at,
The frog, the mouse, and e'en the rat;
Then came in Gib our cat,
And catched the mouse e'en by the back.
Then did they separate,
And the frog leaped on the floor so flat.
Then came in Dick our drake,
And drew the frog e'en to the lake.
The rat run up the wall,
Humbledum, humbledum;
A goodly company, the Devil go with all!
Tweedle tweedle twino.
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
Jack and Joan, they think no ill,
But loving live, and merry still;
Do their week-days' work, and pray
Devoutly on the holy day:
Skip and trip it on the green,
And help to choose the Summer Queen;
Lash out at a country feast
Their silver penny with the best.
Well can they judge of nappy ale,
And tell at large a winter tale;
Climb up to the apple loft,
And turn the crabs till they be soft.
Tib is all the father's joy,
And little Tom the mother's boy.
All their pleasure is Content;
And Care, to pay their yearly rent.
Joan can call by name her cows
And deck her windows with green boughs;
She can wreaths and tutties[9] make,
And trim with plums a bridal cake.
Jack knows what brings gain or loss;
And his long flail can stoutly toss:
Makes the hedge which others break,
And ever thinks what he doth speak.
Now, you courtly dames and knights,
That study only strange delights;
Though you scorn the homespun gray
And revel in your rich array;
Though your tongues dissemble deep,
And can your heads from danger keep;
Yet, for all your pomp and train,
Securer lives the silly swain.
[9] Nosegays.
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
Kind are her answers,
But her performance keeps no day;
Breaks time, as dancers,
From their own music when they stray.
All her free favours and smooth words
Wing my hopes in vain.
O, did ever voice so sweet but only feign?
Can true love yield such delay,
Converting joy to pain?
Lost is our freedom
When we submit to women so:
Why do we need 'em
When, in their best, they work our woe?
There is no wisdom
Can alter ends by Fate prefixt.
O, why is the good of man with evil mixt?
Never were days yet called two
But one night went betwixt.
From CAMPION and ROSSETER's _Book of Airs_, 1601.
Kind in unkindness, when will you relent
And cease with faint love true love to torment?
Still entertained, excluded still I stand;
Her glove still hold, but cannot touch the hand.
In her fair hand my hopes and comforts rest:
O might my fortunes with that hand be blest!
No envious breaths then my deserts could shake,
For they are good whom such true love doth make.
O let not beauty so forget her birth
That it should fruitless home return to earth!
Love is the fruit of beauty, then love one!
Not your sweet self, for such self-love is none.
Love one that only lives in loving you;
Whose wronged deserts would you with pity view,
This strange distaste which your affection sways
Would relish love, and you find better days.
Thus till my happy sight your beauty views,
Whose sweet remembrance still my hope renews,
Let these poor lines solicit love for me,
And place my joys where my desires would be.
From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600.
Lady, the birds right fairly
Are singing ever early;
The lark, the thrush, the nightingale,
The make-sport cuckoo and the quail.
These sing of Love! then why sleep ye?
To love your sleep it may not be.
From THOMAS GREAVES' _Songs of Sundry Kinds_, 1604.
Lady, the melting crystal of your eye
Like frozen drops upon your cheeks did lie;
Mine eye was dancing on them with delight,
And saw love's flames within them burning bright,
Which did mine eye entice
To play with burning ice;
But O, my heart thus sporting with desire,
My careless eye did set my heart on fire.
O that a drop from such a sweet fount flying
Should flame like fire and leave my heart a-dying!
I burn, my tears can never drench it
Till in your eyes I bathe my heart and quench it:
But there, alas, love with his fire lies sleeping,
And all conspire to burn my heart with weeping.
From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598.
Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting,
Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours,
And then behold your lips where sweet love harbours,
My eyes present me with a double doubting:
For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes
Whether the roses be your lips or your lips [be] the roses.
From J. DANYEL's _Songs for the Lute, Viol and Voice_, 1606.
Let not Chloris think, because
She hath unvassel'd me,
That her beauty can give laws
To others that are free:
I was made to be the prey
And booty of her eyes!
In my bosom, she may say.
Her greatest kingdom lies.
Though others may her brow adore,
Yet more must I that therein see far more
Than any other's eyes have power to see;
She is to me
More than to any others she can be.
I can discern more secret notes
That in the margin of her cheeks Love quotes
Than any else besides have art to read;
No looks proceed
From those fair eyes but to me wonder breed.
O then why
Should she fly
From him to whom her sight
Doth add so much above her might?
Why should not she
Still joy to reign in me?
From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Songs and Sonnets_, 1611.
Let not the sluggish sleep
Close up thy waking eye,
Until with judgment deep
Thy daily deeds thou try:
He that one sin in conscience keeps
When he to quiet goes,
More vent'rous is than he that sleeps
With twenty mortal foes.
From GEORGE MASON's and JOHN EARSDEN's _Airs that were sung and played
at Brougham Castle in Westmoreland in the King's Entertainment given by
the Earl of Cumberland_, 1618.
Let us in a lovers' round
Circle all this hallowed ground;
Softly, softly trip and go,
The light-foot Fairies jet it so.
Forward then, and back again,
Here and there and everywhere,
Winding to and fro,
Skipping high and louting low;
And, like lovers, hand in hand,
March around and make a stand.
From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Six Parts_, 1600.
Like two proud armies marching in the field,--
Joining a thund'ring fight, each scorns to yield,--
So in my heart your beauty and my reason:
One claims the crown, the other says 'tis treason.
But oh! your beauty shineth as the sun;
And dazzled reason yields as quite undone.
From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals to Three, Four, Five and Six Voices_,
1597.
Lo! country sport that seldom fades;
A garland of the spring,
A prize for dancing, country maids
With merry pipes we bring.
Then all at once _for our town_ cries!
Pipe on, for we will have the prize.
From THOMAS CAMPION's _Two Books of Airs_ (circ. 1613).
Lo, when back mine eye
Pilgrim-like I cast,
What fearful ways I spie
Which, blinded, I securely passed!
But now heaven hath drawn
From my brows that night;
As when the day doth dawn,
So clears my long-imprisoned sight.
Straight the Caves of Hell
Dressed with flowers I see,
Wherein False Pleasures dwell,
That, winning most, most deadly be.
Throngs of masked fiends,
Winged like angels, fly;
Even in the gates of friends,
In fair disguise black dangers lie.
Straight to heaven I raised
My restored sight,
And with loud voice I praised
The LORD of ever-during light.
And since I had strayed
From His ways so wide,
His grace I humbly prayed
Henceforth to be my guard and guide.
From JOHN MAYNARD's _Twelve Wonders of the World_, 1611.