by Thomas Lodge (1558 - 1625)
Capriccio
Language: English
Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within my eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye? And if I sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; He music plays if so I sing; He lends me every lovely thing; Yet cruel he my heart doth sting. Whist, wanton, still ye! Else I with roses every day Will whip you hence, And bind you, when you long to play, For your offense. I’ll shut my eyes to keep you in, I’ll make you fast it for your sin, I’ll count your power not worth a pin. Alas! what hereby shall I win If he gainsay me? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, Then let thy bower my bosom be; Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee. O Cupid, so thou pity me, Spare not, but play thee!
Authorship:
- by Thomas Lodge (1558 - 1625) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Hans Gál (1890 - 1987), "Capriccio", op. 75 no. 4, published 1959, copyright © 1959 [women's chorus], from Songs of Youth, no. 4, Boosey & Hawkes [ sung text verified 1 time]
Research team for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor] , Eva Fox-Gal
This text was added to the website: 2018-05-09
Line count: 36
Word count: 214