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Green Groweth the Holly

GREEN groweth the holly,

So doth the ivy.

Though winter blasts blow never so high,

Green groweth the holly.



As the holly groweth green,

And never changeth hue,

So I am, ever hath been,

Unto my lady true.



As the holly groweth green

With ivy all alone

When flowers cannot be seen

And greenwood leaves be gone,



Now unto my lady,

Promise to her I make

From all other only

To her I me betake.



Adieu, mine own lady,

Adieu, my special,

Who hath my heart truly,

Be sure and ever shall.



Green groweth the holly,

So doth the ivy.

Though winter blasts blow never so high,

Green groweth the holly.

Henry Tudor, King Henry VIII

Pastime With Good Company

PASTIME with good company

I love and shall unto I die;

Grudge who list, but none deny,

So God be pleased thus live will I.

     For my pastance

     Hunt, song, and dance.

          My heart is set:

     All goodly sport

     For my comfort,

          Who shall me let?



Youth must have some dalliance,

Of good or illé some pastance;

Company methinks then best

All thoughts and fancies to dejest:

      For idleness

     Is chief mistress

          Of vices all.

     Then who can say

     But mirth and play

          Is best of all?



Company with honesty

Is virtue vices to flee:

Company is good and ill

But every man hath his free will.

     The best ensue,

     The worst eschew,

          My mind shall be:

     Virtue to use,

     Vice to refuse,

          Shall I use me.

Henry Tudor, King Henry VIII

Though that men do call it dotage

THOUGH that men do call it dotage,

Who loveth not wanteth courage;



And whosoever may love get,

From Venus sure he must it fet,



Or else from her which is her heir,

And she to him must seem most fair.



With eye and mind doth both agree.

There is no boot: there must it be.



The eye doth look and represent,

But mind afformeth with full consent.



Thus am I fixed without grudge:

Mine eye with heart doth me so judge.



Love maintaineth all noble courage.

Who love disdaineth is all of the village:



Such lovers—though they take pain—

It were pity they should obtain,



For often times where they do sue

They hinder lovers that would be true.



For whoso loveth should love but once.

Change whoso will, I will be none.

Henry Tudor, King Henry VIII

Without Discord

WITHOUT discord

And both accord

Now let us be;

Both hearts alone

To set in one

Best seemeth me.

For when one soul

Is in the dole

Of lovë's pain,

Then help must have

Himself to save

And love to obtain.



Wherefore now we

That lovers be,

Let us now pray,

Once love sure

For to procure

Without denay.

Where love so sues

There no heart rues,

But condescend;

If contrary,

What remedy?

God it amend.

Henry Tudor, King Henry VIII

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