I DICK JACK! nay, prithee, come away, This is no time for sadness; Pan's chief feast is kept to-day, Each shepherd shows his gladness: W' are to meet all on the green, To dance and sport together; O what brav'ry will be seen! I hope 'twill prove fair weather. II Look, I've got a new suit on; Say, man! how likest the colour? Will't not take Nell's eyes anon? All greens than this are duller. Mark how trimm'd up is my hook, This ribbon was Nell's favour: Jack! the wench has a sweet look, I'll die but what I will have her. III JACK Dick, e'en go alone for me; By Nell thou art expected: I no love have there to see, Of all I am rejected. At my rags each maid would flout, If seen with such a shiner; No, I'll ne'er set others out; I'll stay till I am finer. IV Shall I go to sit alone, Scorn'd e'en by Meg o' th' dairy? Whilst proud Tom lies hugging Joan, And Robin kisses Mary? Shall I see my rival Will Receive kind looks from Betty? Both of them I'd sooner kill: At thought on't, Lord, how fret I! V 'Cause he has a flock of sheep, And is an elder brother; 'Cause (poor hireling!) those I keep Belong unto another, I must lose what's mine by right, And let the rich fool gain her: I'll at least keep out of sight, Since hopeless e'er t' obtain her. VI DICK Courage, man, thy case is not So bad as thou dost take it: Yet 'tis ill; could I (God wot!), Much better would I make it. He is rich: thou, poor; 'twere much Wert thou preferr'd by a woman; Women, though, keep sometimes touch, But (sooth) 'tis not so common. VII Thou, unto thy pipe can'st sing Love-songs of thine own making; He, nor that, nor anything Knows how to do, that's taking. She did love thee once, and swore Ne'er (through her fault) to lose thee; If she keep her oath, before The richer, she will choose thee. VIII JACK Never, never, 'las! such oaths Have force for but few hours; If she lik'd once, now she loathes; And smiles no more, but lowers. Scarce his suit had he applied, But she lov'd me no longer: Soon my faith she 'gan deride: For wealth, than faith, is stronger. IX Farewell, shepherd, then. Be gone; The feast no stay here brooketh: Prithee, mark Bess there anon, If kind on Will she looketh. Who loves truly, loves to hear Tales, that increase his fire; I, alas! bad tidings fear, And yet for news inquire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TWO WIVES by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS TWILIGHT by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES HOME THOUGHTS FROM FRANCE by ISAAC ROSENBERG A RECEIPT FOR WRITING A NOVEL by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK THE REPLY OF Q. HORATIUS FLACCUS TO A ROMAN 'ROUND-ROBIN' by ALFRED AUSTIN THE HOUSE AT EVENING by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |