Black jacks to every man Were filled with wine and beer; No pewter pot nor can In those days did appear: Good cheer in a nobleman's house Was counted a seemly show; We wanted no brawn nor souse, When this old cap was new. We took not such delight In cups of silver fine; None under the degree of a knight In plate drank beer or wine: Now each mechanical man Hath a cupboard of plate for a show; Which was a rare thing then, When this old cap was new. Then bribery was unborn, No simony men did use; Christians did usury scorn, Devised among the Jews. The lawyers to be fee'd At that time hardly knew; For man with man agreed, When this old cap was new. No captain then caroused, Nor spent poor soldiers' pay; They were not so abused As they are at this day: Of seven days they make eight, To keep from them their due; Poor soldiers had their right, When this old cap was new. Which made them forward still To go, although not prest; And going with goodwill, Their fortunes were the best. Our English then in fight Did foreign foes subdue, And forced them all to flight, When this old cap was new. God save our gracious king, And send him long to live: Lord, mischief on them bring That will not their alms give, But seek to rob the poor Of that which is their due: This was not in time of yore, When this old cap was new. SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR GEORGE WITHER Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flow'ry meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be? Should my heart be griev'd or pin'd 'Cause I see a woman kind? Or a well-disposèd nature Joinèd with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder than Turtle-dove or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or her well-deservings, known, Make me quite forget my own? Be she with that goodness blest Which may gain her name of best, If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be? 'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool and die? Those that bear a noble mind, Where they want of riches find. Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair; If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve: If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be? I LOVED A LASS, A FAIR ONE