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In The Merry Month Of May
Restoration pastoral, Benjamin Rogers, 1614-98
In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked by the woodside,
When as May was in his pride;
There I spied all alone,
Phyllida and Corydon.
Much ado there was, God wot!
He would love and she would not;
She said, Never man was true.
He said, None was false to you.
He said, Love should have no wrong.
Corydon would kiss her then;
She said, Maids must kiss no men,
Till they did for good and all.
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth,
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use,
When they will not love abuse.
Love which had been long deluded
Was with kisses sweet concluded.
And Phyllida with garlands gay
Was made the lady of the May.
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