The Passionate Cook to His Love
apologies to Christopher Marlowe
Come dine with me and eat my brunch,
And we will all the goodies munch
That bacon, eggs, toast, and beans,
Biscuits, and steeped coffee gleans.
And we will nibble on the buns,
Seeing the cooks cry from onions,
By shallow pans with just a drizzle
Melodious oils snap and sizzle.
And I will make thee beds of lettuce
And a dressing with fragrant shallots,
A cap of mushrooms, and of chives
Embroidered all with leaves of endive;
Mimosas made of finest wine
Which with our oranges we combine;
Honey butter in a mold,
With biscuits of the purest gold;
A twist of cinnamon and glaze,
With candied nuts for lazy days:
And if these dishes might thee munch,
Come dine with me, and eat my brunch.
The cooks’ alarms shall chime and ring
For thy delight Sunday morning:
If these small plates thy mouth may munch,
Then dine with me and eat my brunch.
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
by Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds’ swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.