The Shepherd's Wife's Song

Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing,

As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,

And sweeter, too:

For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,

And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:

Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,

What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

His flocks are folded; he comes home at night

As merry as a king in his delight,

And merrier, too:

For kings bethink them what the state require,

Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:

He kisseth first, then sits at blithe to eat

His cream and curds, as doth a king his meat,

And blither, too:

For kings have often fears when they do sup,

Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup:

To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween,

As is a king in dalliance with a queen;

More wanton, too:

For kings have many griefs, affects to move,

Where shepherds have no greater grief than love:

Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound

As doth the king upon his bed of down;

More sounder, too:

For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,

Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill:

Thus, with his wife, he spends the year as blithe

As doth the king at every tide or sithe,

And blither, too:

For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,

Where shepherds laugh and love upon the land:

Ah then, ah then,

Since country loves such sweet desires do gain,

What lady would not love a shepherd swain?