Yes, she knows it but too well,
For I heard when Venus’ dove
In her ear did softly tell
That kisses were the seals of love:
O muse not then though it be so,
Kisses make men loath to go.
Wherefore did she thus inflame
My desires heat my blood,
Instantly to quench the same
And starve whom she had given food?
I the common sense can show,
Kisses make men loath to go.
Had she bid me go at first
It would ne’er have grieved my heart,
Hope delayed had been the worst;
But ah to kiss and then to part!
How deep it struck, speak, gods, you know
Kisses make men loath to go.
From Robert Jones’ Second Book of Songs and Airs, 1601.
My Love is neither young nor old,
From William Byrd’s Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs, 1588.
My mind to me a kingdom is:
No princely port, nor wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to win a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall!
For why? my mind despise them all.
I see that plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as are aloft,
Mishap doth threaten most of all.
These get with toil, and keep with fear:
Such cares my mind can never bear.
I press to bear no haughty sway,
I wish no more than may suffice,
I do no more, than well I may;
Look, what I want, my mind supplies.
Lo, thus I triumph like a king,
My mind content with any thing.