Hold Back Thy Hours

HOLD back thy hours, dark Night, till we have done;

The Day will come too soon;

Young maids will curse thee, if thou steal'st away

And leav'st their losses open to the day:

Stay, stay, and hide

The blushes of the bride.

Stay, gentle Night, and with thy darkness cover

The kisses of her lover;

Stay, and confound her tears and her shrill cryings;

Stay, and hide all

But help not, though she call.

John Fletcher

Lay a Garland on My Hearse

LAY a garland on my hearse

Of the dismal yew;

Maidens, willow branches bear;

Say, I died true.

My love was false, but I was firm

From my hour of birth.

Upon my buried body lie

Lightly, gentle earth!

John Fletcher

Sing His Praises

SING his praises that doth keep

Our flocks from harm,

Pan, the father of our sheep;

And arm in arm

Tread we softly in a round,

Whilst the hollow murmuring ground

Fills the music with her sound.

Pan, oh, great god Pan, to thee

Thus do we sing!

Thou that keep'st us chaste and free

As the young spring;

Ever be thy honor spoke,

From that place the morn is broke,

To that place day doth unyoke!

John Fletcher

Now the Lusty Spring

NOW the lusty spring is seen;

Golden hellow, gaudy blue,

Daintily invite the view.

Everywhere on every green,

Roses blushing as they blow,

And enticing men to pull,

Lilies whiter than the snow,

Woodbines of sweet honey full:

    All love's emblems, and all cry,

    "Ladies, if not plucked, we die."

Yet the lusty spring hath stayed;

Blushing red and purest white

Daintily to love invite

Every woman, every maid.

Cherries kissing as they grow,

And inviting men to taste,

Apples even ripe below,

Winding gently to the waist:

    All love's emblems, and all cry,

    "Ladies, if not plucked, we die."

John Fletcher

Hear, Ye Ladies

HEAR, ye ladies that despise,

What the mighty Love has done;

Fear examples, and be wise:

Fair Callisto was a nun;

Leda, sailing on the stream

To deceive the hopes of man,

Love accounting but a dream,

Doted on a silver swan;

   Danae, in a brazen tower,

   Where no love was, loved a shower.

Hear, ye ladies that are coy,

What the mighty Love can do;

Fear the fierceness of the boy:

The chaste moon he makes to woo;

Vesta, kindling holy fires,

Circled round about with spies,

Never dreaming loose desires,

Doting at the altar dies;

    Ilion, in a short hour, higher

    He can build, and once more fire.

John Fletcher

Care-Charming Sleep

CARE-CHARMING Sleep, thou easer of all woes,

Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose

On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud,

In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud,

Or painful to his slumbers; easy, light,

And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,

Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain,

Like hollow murmuring or silver rain;

Into this prince gently, oh, gently slide,

And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.

John Fletcher

God Lyæus, Ever Young

from Valentinian

GOD Lyæus, ever young,

Ever honored, ever sung,

Stained with blood of lusty grapes,

In a thousand lusty shapes,

Dance upon the mazer's brim,

In the crimson liquor swim;

From thy plenteous hand divine,

Let a river run with wine:

    Good of youth, let this day here

    Enter neither care nor fear.

John Fletcher

Cast Our Caps and Cares Away

CAST our cares and caps away:

This is beggars' holiday!

At the crowning of our king,

Thus we ever dance and sing.

In the world look out and see,

Where so happy a prince as he?

Where the nation lives so free,

And as merry as do we?

Here at liberty we are,

And enjoy our ease and rest:

To the field we are not pressed;

Nor are called into the town,

To be troubled with the gown.

Hang all offices, we cry,

And the magistrate too, by!

When the subsidy's increased,

We are not a penny sessed;

Nor will any go to law

With the beggar for a straw.

All which happiness, he brags,

He doth owe unto his rags.

John Fletcher

Dearest, Do Not You Delay Me

DEAREST, do not you delay me,

Since, thou knowest, I must be gone;

Wind and tide, 'tis thought, doth stay me,

But 'tis wind that must be blown

    From that breath, whose native smell

    Indian odours far excel.

Oh, then speak, thou fairest fair!

Kill not him that vows to serve thee;

But perfume this neighboring air,

Else dull silence, sure, will sterve me:

    'Tis a word that's quickly spoken,

    Which being restrained, a heart is broken.

John Fletcher

'Tis Late and Cold

'TIS late and cold; stir up the fire;

Sit close, and draw the table nigher;

Be merry, and drink wine that's old,

A hearty medecine 'gainst a cold:

Your beds of wanton down the best,

Where you shall tumble to your rest;

I could wish you wenches too,

But I am dead and cannot do.

Call for the best the house may ring,

Sack, white, and claret, let them bring,

And drink apace, while breath you have;

You'll find but cold drink in the grave:

Plover, partridge, for you dinner,

And a capon for the sinner,

You shall find ready when you're up,

And your horse shall have his sup:

Welcome, welcome, shall fly round,

And I shall smile, though under ground.

John Fletcher

Drinking Song

from Bloody Brother

DRINK to-day, and drown all sorrow,

You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow.

Best, while you have it, use your breath;

There is no drinking after death.

Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit;

There is no cure 'gainst age but it.

It helps the headache, cough, and tisic,

And is for all diseases physic.

Then let us swill, boys, for our health;

Who drinks well, loves the commmonwealth.

And he that will to bed go sober,

Falls with the leaf still in October.

John Fletcher