Within myself then can I say,

The night is gone, behold the day:
Behold the star so clear and bright,
As dims the sight of Phoebus light.

Whose fame by pen for to discrive, Doth pass each wight that is alive: Then how dare I with boldned face Presume to crave, or wish your grace? And thus amazed as I stand,

Not feeling sense, nor mooving hand,

My soul with silence-mooving sense,
Doth wish of God with reverence,
Long life and virtue you possess
To match those gifts of worthiness;
And love and pity may be spied
To be your chief and only guide,

XXVII.

"A PROPER SONG,

INTITULED,

Fain wold I have a pretie thing

To give unto my ladie."

To the tune of Lusty Gallant.

[From Robinson's "Handefull of Pleasant Delites," 1584.]

FAIN

AIN would I have a pretty thing

To give unto my lady,

I name no thing, nor I mean no thing,
But as pretty a thing as may be.

Twenty journeys would I make,
And twenty ways would hie me,
To make adventure for her sake
To set some matter by me.

Some do long for pretty knacks,
And some for strange devices,
God send me that my lady lacks,
I care not what the price is.

Some go here, and some go there
Where gazes be not geason,*
And I go gaping every where.

But still come out of season.

I walk the town, and tread the street,
In every corner seeking

The pretty thing I cannot meet,
That's for my lady's liking.

The mercers pull me going by,
The silk wives say What lack ye?
The thing you have not, then say I,
Ye foolish fools go pack ye.

It is not all the silk in Cheap,
Nor all the golden treasure,
Nor twenty bushels on a heap,
Can do my lady pleasure.

The gravers of the golden shows,

With jewels do beset me,

The semstress' in the shops that sew,

They nothing do but let me.

* Where shows or public exhibitions are not uncom

mon.

But were it in the wit of man,
By any means to make it,
I could for money buy it then,
And say, Fair lady, take it.

O lady, what a luck is this,

That my good willing misseth To find what pretty thing it is That my good lady wisheth.

Thus fain would I have had this pretty thing To give unto my lady:

I said no harm, nor I meant no harm,

But as pretty a thing as may be.

“Then Albina think no more of Dorosa's beauty or valiancy; yea, if thou canst not quench the coales of desire with forgetfulness, yet rake them up in the ashes of modesty; bear a painted sheath with a leaden dagger, and a merry countenance with a melancholy mind; and of all thy father's knights esteem Dorosa the least, yea, and so much the less as he is the latest.

With this she taking her lute that lay at her bed's head warbled forth this ditty:"

ALL this night

By his might,

Love hath made my heart his cell;

Venus joy,

Wanton boy,

From mine eyes did rest expel.

Wanton sports,
Wily ports,