Alas what hope of speeding Where hope beguiled lies bleeding? She bade come when she spied me, And when I came she flied me. Thus when I was beguiled,

Adieu, adieu sweet amaryllis. For since to part your will is. O heavy tiding Here is for me no biding.

O, what shall I do, or whither sh… Shall I make unto her eyes? O, no… Shall I seal up my eyes and speak… Then in a flood of tears I drown… For tears being stopped will swell…

Thus love commands, that I in vai… And sorrow will that she shall sti… Yet did I hope, which hope my lif… To hear her say, alas! His love w…

Thou art but young, thou say’€™st, And love’€™s delight thou weigh’€™… Oh! take time while thou may’€™st, Lest, when thou would’€™st, thou m… If love shall then assail thee,

Fly, Love, aloft to heav’n and lo… Then sweetly, sweetly, sweetly her… That I from my Calisto best belov… As you and she set down be never m… And, Love, to Carimel see you com…

Stay, Corydon, thou swain, Talk not so soon of dying: What though thy heart be slain, What though thy love be flying? She threatens thee, but dares not…

My throat is sore, my voice is hoa… My rests are sighs, deep from the… My song runs all on sharps, and wi… Time on my breast, I shrink with… Thus still, and still I sing, and…

Ye restless thoughts, that harbour… Cease your assaults and let my hea… And let my tongue have leave to te… That she may pity, though not gran… Pity would help, alas, what love h…

Sweet honey-sucking bees, why do y… surfeit on roses, pinks and violet… as if the choicest nectar lay in t… wherewith you store your curious c… Ah, make your flight to Melisuavi…

I sung sometimes my thoughts’€™ an… Where then I list, or time serv’€… While Daphne did invite me To supper once, and drank to me to… I smil’€™d, yet still did doubt he…

Dear pity, how, ah! how, wouldst t… That best becometh beauty’s best a… Shall my desert deserve no favour… But still to waste myself in deep… Like him who calls to echo to reli…

Sweet love, if thou wilt gain a mo… Subdue her heart, who makes me gla… Out of thy golden quiver, Take thou the strongest arrow, That will, thro’€™ bone and marrow…

As fair as morn, as fresh as May, a pretty grace in saying nay, Smil’st thou sweetheart? then sing and say, Ta na na no, But O! that love enchanting eye,

Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face; Nor for any outward part, No, nor for my constant heart: For those may fail or turn to ill,