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- SWEET are the thoughts that savor of content;
- The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
- Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
- The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown.
- Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
- Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
- The homely house that harbors quiet rest;
- The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
- The mean that 'grees with country music best;
- The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
- Obscurèd life sets down a type of bliss:
- A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
- Robert Greene

- AH, what is love? It is a pretty thing,
- As sweet unto a shepherd as a king--
- And sweeter too,
- For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
- And cares can make the sweetest love to frown,
- Ah then, ah then,
- If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
- What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
- His flocks once folded, he comes home at night
- As merry as a king in his delight--
- And merrier too,
- For kings bethink them what the state require,
- Where shepherds careless carol by the fire,
- Ah, then, ah then,
- If country loves such sweet desires gain,
- What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
- He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat
- His cream and curds as doth the king his meat--
- And blither too,
- For kings have often fears when they do sup,
- Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup,
- Ah then, ah then,
- If country loves such sweet desires gain,
- What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
- To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween,
- As is a king in dalliance with a queen--
- More wanton too,
- For kings have many griefs, affects to move,
- Where shepherds have no greater grief than love,
- Ah then, ah then,
- If country loves such sweet desires gain,
- What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
- Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
- As doth the king upon his beds of down--
- More sounder too,
- For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
- Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill.
- Ah then, ah then,
- If country loves such sweet desires gain,
- What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
- Thus with his wife he spends the year, as blithe
- As doth the king, at every tide or sithe--
- And blither too,
- For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
- Where shepherds laugh and love upon the land.
- Ah then, ah then,
- If country loves such sweet desires gain,
- What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
- Robert Greene

- CUPID abroad was lated in the night,
- His wings were wet with ranging in the rain;
- Harbor he sought, to me he took his flight
- To dry his plumes. I heard the boy complain:
- I oped the door and
granted his desire,
- I rose myself, and made
the wag a fire.
- Looking more narrow by the fire's flame,
- I spied his quiver hanging by his back.
- Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame,
- I would have gone, for fear of further wrack;
- But what I drad did me,
poor wretch, betide,
- For forth he drew an arrow
from his side.
- He pierced the quick, and I began to start,
- A pleasing wound but that it was too high;
- His shaft procured a sharp yet sugared smart.
- Away he flew, for why is wings were dry;
- But left the arrow
sticking in my breast,
- That sore I grieved I
welcomed such a guest.
- Robert Greene

- WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
- When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
- Mother's wag, pretty boy,
- Father's sorrow, father's joy.
- When thy father first did see
- Such a boy by him and me,
- He was glad, I was woe:
- Fortune changèd made him so,
- When he left his pretty boy,
- Last his sorrow, first his joy.
- Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
- When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
- Streaming tears that never stint,
- Like pearl drops from a flint,
- Fell by course from his eyes,
- That one another's place supplies:
- Thus he grieved in every part,Tears of blood fell from his heart,
- When he left his pretty boy,
- Father's sorrow, father's joy.
- Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
- When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
- The wanton smiled, father wept;
- Mother cried, baby lept;
- More he crowed, more we cried;
- Nature could not sorrow hide.
- He must go, he must kiss
- Child and mother, baby bliss;
- For he left his pretty boy,
- Father's sorrow, father's joy.
- Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee:
- When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
- Robert Greene

- HIS stature was not very tall,
- Lean he was, his legs were small,
- Hosed within a sock of red,
- A buttoned bonnet on his head,
- From under which did hang, I ween,
- Silver hairs both bright and sheen.
- His beard was white, trimmèd round,
- His countenance blithe and merry found.
- His sleeveless jacket large and wide,
- With many plights and skirts side,
- Of water camlet did he wear;
- A whittle by his belt he wear,
- His shoes were cornered, broad before,
- His inkhorn at his side he wore,
- And in his hand he bore a book.
- Thus did this ancient poet look.
- Robert Greene

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