Want

Want is a softer wax, that takes thereon,
This, that, and every base impression,

Need is no vice at all, though here it be
With men a loathed inconveniency.

Give me a man that is not dull,
When all the world with rifts is full;
But unamazed dares clearly sing,
When as the roof's a-tottering;
And though it falls, continues still
Tickling the Cittern with his quill.

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

Another
Wassail the trees, that they may bear
You many a plum, and many a pear:
For more or less fruits they will bring,
As you do give them wassailing.

Fat be my hind; unlearned be my wife;
Peaceful my night; my day devoid of strife:
To these a comely offspring I desire,
Singing about my everlasting fire.