Song (“Pluck the fruit and taste the pleasure”)
by Thomas Lodge (c. 1558-1625)

Pluck the fruit and taste the pleasure,
      Youthful lordings, of delight;
Whilst occasion give you seizure,
      Feed your fancies and your sight:
            After death, when you are gone,
            Joy and pleasure is there none.

Here on earth nothing is stable,
      Fortune’s changes well are known;
Whilst as youth doth then enable,
      Let your seeds of joy be sown:
            After death, when you are gone,
            Joy and pleasure is there none.

Feast it freely with your lovers,
      Blithe and wanton sweets do fade;
Whilst that lovely Cupid hovers
      Round about this lovely shade,
            Sport it freely one to one;
            After death is pleasure none.

Now the pleasant spring allureth,
      And both place and time invites:
Out, alas! what heart endureth
      To disclaim his sweet delights?
            After death, when you are gone,
            Joy and pleasure is there none.

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