Anonymous
¶257 Love Will Find Out the WayOver the mountainsAnd over the waves.Under the fountainsAnd under the graves;Under floods that are deepest,Which Neptune obey;Over rocks that are steepestLove will find out the way.
¶Where there is no placeFor the glow-worm to lie;Where there is no spaceFor receipt of a fly;Where the midge dares not ventureLest herself fast she lay;If love come, he will enterAnd soon find out his way.
¶You may esteem himA child for his might;Or you may deem himA coward from his flight;But if she whom love doth honour[380]Be conceal'd from the day,Set a thousand guards upon her,Love will find out the way.
¶Some think to lose himBy having him confined;And some do suppose him,Poor thing, to be blind;But if ne'er so close ye wall him,Do the best that you may.Blind love, if so ye call him,Will find out his way.
¶You may train the eagleTo stoop to your fist;Or you may inveigleThe phoenix of the east;The lioness, ye may move herTo give o'er her prey;But you'll ne'er stop a lover:He will find out his way.
¶255 Phillada Flouts MeO WHAT a plague is love!How shall I bear it?She will inconstant prove,I greatly fear it.She so torments my mindThat my strength faileth.And wavers with the windAs a ship saileth.Please her the best I may,She loves still to gainsay;Alack and well-a-day!Phillada Routs me.
¶At the fair yesterdayShe did pass by me;She look'd another wayAnd would not spy me:[381]I woo'd her for to dine,But could not get her;Will had her to the wine—He might entreat her.With Daniel she did dance,On me she look'd askance:0 thrice unhappy chance!Phillada flouts me.
¶Fair maid, be not so coy.Do not disdain me!I am my mother's joy:Sweet, entertain me!She'll give me, when she dies,All that is fitting:Her poultry and her bees,And her goose sitting,A pair of mattrass beds.And a bag full of shreds;And yet, for all this guedes,Phillada flouts me.
¶She hath a clout of mineWrought with blue Coventry,Which she keeps for a signOf my fidelity:But i' faith, if she flinchShe shall not wear it;To Tib, my t'other wench,I mean to bear it.And yet it grieves my heartSo soon from her to part:Death strike me with his dart!Phillada flouts me.
¶Thou shalt eat crudded creamAll the year lasting.And drink the crystal streamPleasant in tasting;Whig and whey whilst thou lust,[382]And bramble-berries,Pie-lid and pastry-crust,Pears, plums, and cherries.Thy raiment shall be thin,Made of a weevil's skin—Yet all's not worth a pin!Phillada flouts me.
¶In the last month of MayI made her posies;I heard her often sayThat she loved roses.Cowslips and gillyflowersAnd the white lilyI brought to deck the bowersFor my sweet Philly.But she did all disdain,And threw them back again;Therefore 'tis flat and plainPhillada flouts me.
¶Fair maiden, have a care.And in time take me;I can have those as fairIf you forsake me:For Doll the dairy-maidLaugh'd at me lately.And wanton WinifredFavours me greatly.One throws milk on my clothes.T'other plays with my nose;What wanting signs are those?Phillada flouts me.