MADRIGAL From MERCHANT OF VENICE WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE BELL me where is Fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, WHO IS SYLVIA? From THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE HO is Sylvia? what is she, WHO That all the swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise, is she; The heavens such grace did lend her That she might adorèd be. Is she kind, or is she fair? For beauty lives with kindness. Love does to her eyes repair To help him of his blindnessAnd, being helped, inhabits there. Then to Sylvia let us sing He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. White his shroud as the mountain snow, Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers. A THE NIGHTINGALE From CYNTHIA, ETC. RICHARD BARNFIELD S it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Trees did grow and plants did spring, Save the nightingale alone. She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Tereu, tereu, by and by : That to hear her so complain Scarce I could from tears refrain; For her griefs so lively shown Made me think upon mine own. |