Then came old January, wrapped well In many weeds to keep the cold away; Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell, And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may: For they were numbd with holding all the day An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood, And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray: Upon an huge great earth-pot steane he stood, From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romane floud.

~ Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queen

A poem by Sir Walter Raleigh 

The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd

If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love. Time drives the flocks from field to fold When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb; The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love. But could youth last and love still breed, Had joys no date nor age no need, Then these delights my mind might move To live with thee and be thy love.

Sir Walter Raleigh  (1552–1618)

Raleigh's poem is a response to a poem by Christopher Marlowe entitled The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.

Monologue of the character Helena to Hermia, from William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a fantasy romantic comedy written in the 1590s, one of the earlier plays of his career and one of only a few with no prior literary or historical source for the plot

Expressions of same-sex affection can be found throughout Shakespeare’s sonnets and plays, including The Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Twelfth Night, Coriolanus, and Two Noble Kinsmen. However, the Renaissance did not have the modern concepts of sexual identity and sexual orientation that we have inherited from 19th- and early 20th-century theories of human sexuality and psychology. Hence nobody in this period would have conceived of themselves in terms of modern sexual categories such as heterosexual and homosexual, or gay and straight. The challenge in reading passages such as this is to understand the personal, social, and political significance of same-sex relationships in Renaissance culture without applying anachronistic labels or standards of judgment. In Renaissance England, intimate relationships between women were generally accepted as long as they did not interfere with the women’s conventional sexual and social duties: getting married, having children, maintaining chastity, and behaving in an appropriately feminine manner. In A Midsummer Night’s Dream and As You Like It, adolescent female friendships finally give way to the new bonds between husbands and wives that signal entry into adulthood. However, being married did not prevent adult women from maintaining or establishing affectionate intimacies with other women through relationships of friendship, patronage, or service.

—Annotation in Barnes and Noble Shakespeare’s edition of the play (the first edition I read when I was seventeen), edited by Mario DiGangi

Astrophel and Stella by Sir Phillip Sidney.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.

Juliet, to her Romeo, by William Shakespeare

“Here have I cause, in men just blame to find, That in their proper prayse too partiall bee, And not indifferent to woman kind, To whom no share in armes and chevalrie They do impart, ne maken memorie Of their brave gestes and prowess martiall; Scarse do they spare to one or two or three, Rowme in their writs; yet the same writing small Does all their deeds deface, and dims their glories all, But by record of antique times I find, That women wont in warres to beare most sway, And to all great exploits them selves inclind: Of which they still the girlond bore away, Till envious Men fearing their rules decay, Gan coyne straight laws to curb their liberty; Yet sith they warlike armes have layd away: They have exceld in artes and policy, That now we foolish men that prayse gin eke."

‘Like to a painted map the landscape lies

And wild above shine the cloud-thronged skies

The flying clouds urged on in swiftest pace

Like living things as if they runned a race’

-from The Shepherd’s Calendar: October by John Clare

“She bath’d with roses red and violets blew,

And all the sweetest flowers that in the forrest grew.”

Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

Clowns: Shakespeare was so tawdry and dirty and profane!1!1!1!

Shakespeare’s Actual Contemporaries: He writes the most beautiful lines, I can’t 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭Wish he’d write about other things than love, though. What’s that? He actually wrote some killer tragedies and fun stage comedies? Oh. Yeah, I guess he does that. Still, his style is super sweet. So sweet. Sweet as honey. 8/10, ngl kinda basic

Weep You No More, Sad Fountains

Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven’s sun doth gently waste. But my sun’s heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lie sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets. Doth not the sun rise smiling When fair at even he sets? Rest you then, rest, sad eyes, Melt not in weeping While she lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping.

— John Dowland

A poem by Edmund Spenser

Prothalamion

Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre; When I, (whom sullein care, Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay In Princes Court, and expectation vayne Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away, Like empty shaddowes, did afflict my brayne,) Walkt forth to ease my payne Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes; Whose rutty Bancke, the which his River hemmes, Was paynted all with variable flowers, And all the meades adornd with daintie gemmes Fit to decke maydens bowres, And crowne their Paramours Against the Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers side, A Flocke of Nymphes I chauncèd to espy, All lovely Daughters of the Flood thereby, With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde, As each had bene a Bryde; And each one had a little wicker basket, Made of fine twigs, entrayl`d curiously, In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket, And with fine Fingers cropt full feateously The tender stalkes on hye. Of every sort, which in that Meadow grew, They gathered some; the Violet, pallid blew, The little Dazie, that at evening closes, The virgin Lillie, and the Primrose trew, With store of vermeil Roses, To decke their Bridegromes posies Against the Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe Come softly swimming downe along the Lee; Two fairer Birds I yet did never see; The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew, Did never whiter shew; Nor Jove himselfe, when he a Swan would be, For love of Leda, whiter did appeare; Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he, Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare; So purely white they were, That even the gentle streame, the which them bare, Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare To wet their silken feathers, least they might Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre, And marre their beauties bright, That shone as heavens light, Against their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill, Ran all in haste to see that silver brood, As they came floating on the Christal Flood; Whom when they sawe, they stood amazèd still, Their wondring eyes to fill; Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre, Of Fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre Which through the Skie draw Venus silver Teeme; For sure they did not seeme To be begot of any earthly Seede, But rather Angels, or of Angels breede; Yet were they bred of Somers-heat, they say, In sweetest Season, when each Flower and weede The earth did fresh aray; So fresh they seem'd as day, Even as their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

Then forth they all out of their baskets drew Great store of Flowers, the honour of the field, That to the sense did fragrant odours yield, All which upon those goodly Birds they threw And all the Waves did strew, That like old Peneus Waters they did seeme, When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore, Scattred with Flowres, through Thessaly they streeme, That they appeare, through Lillies plenteous store, Like a Brydes Chamber flore. Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found, The which presenting all in trim Array, Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd, Whil'st one did sing this Lay, Prepar'd against that Day, Against their Brydale day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

'Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament, And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower Doth leade unto your lovers blisfull bower, Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content Of your loves couplement; And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love, With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile, Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove All Loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile For ever to assoile. Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord, And blessèd Plentie wait upon your bord; And let your bed with pleasures chast abound, That fruitfull issue may to you afford, Which may your foes confound, And make your joyes redound Upon your Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softlie, till I end my Song.'

So ended she; and all the rest around To her redoubled that her undersong, Which said their brydale daye should not be long: And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground Their accents did resound. So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along, Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low, As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong, Yet did by signes his glad affection show, Making his streame run slow. And all the foule which in his flood did dwell Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend The lesser starres. So they, enrangèd well, Did on those two attend, And their best service lend Against their wedding day, which was not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

At length they all to mery London came, To mery London, my most kyndly Nurse, That to me gave this Lifes first native sourse, Though from another place I take my name, An house of auncient fame: There when they came, whereas those bricky towres The which on Themmes brode agèd backe doe ryde, Where now the studious Lawyers have their bowers, There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde, Till they decayd through pride: Next whereunto there standes a stately place, Where oft I gaynèd giftes and goodly grace Of that great Lord, which therein wont to dwell, Whose want too well now feeles my freendles case; But ah! here fits not well Olde woes, but joyes, to tell Against the Brydale daye, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Peer, Great Englands glory, and the Worlds wide wonder, Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine did thunder, And Hercules two pillors standing neere Did make to quake and feare: Faire branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie! That fillest England with thy triumphes fame, Joy have thou of thy noble victorie, And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name That promiseth the same; That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes, Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes; And great Elisaes glorious name may ring Through al the world, fil'd with thy wide Alarmes, Which some brave muse may sing To ages following, Upon the Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly till I end my Song.

From those high Towers this noble Lord issuing, Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre In th' Ocean billowes he hath bathèd fayre, Descended to the Rivers open vewing, With a great traine ensuing. Above the rest were goodly to bee seene Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature, Beseeming well the bower of anie Queene, With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature, Fit for so goodly stature, That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight, Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heavens bright; They two, forth pacing to the Rivers side, Received those two faire Brides, their Loves delight; Which, at th' appointed tyde, Each one did make his Bryde Against their Brydale day, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

Edmund Spenser (1552-1599)

I refuse to believe Shakespeare was straight

“Captured Queen” - a Shakespearean sonnet written 10/24/2022

"Ulysees and the Siren" (1605) by Samuel Daniel. The poem continues as a dialogue with Ulysees' reply but honestly I think the Siren presents a solid argument here.

„The Dream“ - A Poem by Aphra Behn

„The Dream“ – A Poem by Aphra Behn

Aphra Behn (1640–1689) was an English playwright, poet, prose writer and translator from the Restoration era. As one of the first English women to earn her living by her writing, she broke cultural barriers and served as a literary role model for later generations of women authors. Rising from obscurity, she came to the notice of Charles II, who employed her as a spy in Antwerp. Upon her return…

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