I ✔ THE MALTWORM'S MADRIGAL DRINK of the Ale of Southwark, I drink of the Ale of Chepe; At noon I dream on the settle; at night I cannot sleep; For my love, my love it groweth; I waste me all the day; And when I see sweet Alison, I know not what to say. The sparrow when he spieth his Dear upon the tree, He beateth-to his little wing; he chirketh lustily; But when I see sweet Alison, the words begin to fail; I wot that I shall die of Love-an I die not of Ale. Her lips are like the muscadel; her brows are black as ink; Her eyes are bright as beryl stones that in the tankard wink; But when she sees me coming, she shrilleth out— "Te-Hee! Fye on thy ruddy nose, Cousin, what lackest thou of me?" "Fye on thy ruddy nose, Cousin! Why be thine eyes so small ? Why go thy legs tap-lappetty like men that fear to fall? Why is thy leathern doublet besmeared with stain and spot? Go to. Thou art no man (she saith)—thou art a Pottle-pot!" " "No man," i'faith. "No man! she saith And "Pottle-pot" thereto ! "Thou sleepest like our dog all day; thou drink'st as fishes do." I would that I were Tibb the dog; he wags at her his tail; Or would that I were fish, in truth, and all the sea were Ale! So I drink of the Ale of Southwark, I drink of the Ale of Chepe; All day I dream in the sunlight; I dream and eke I weep, But little lore of loving can any flagon teach, For when my tongue is looséd most, then most I lose my speech. |