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…

As matchless beauty thee a Phoeni… Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet… For when young Acon’s eye thy pro… Thou diest in him, and livest in m…

When Cloris heard of her Amyntas… She grieved then for her unkind de… Oft sighing sore, and with a heart… I die, I die, I die, she thus com… Whom, when Amyntas spied,

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…

O God, the rock of my whole stren… Let thy sweet mercy soothe mine an… And grant me help, O Lord, at len… Lest that I faint, despair, and l…

Cruel, behold my heavy ending, See what you wrought by your disda… Causeless I die, love still atten… Your hopeless pity of my complaini… Suffer those eyes which thus have…

Hard destinies are love and beauty… Fair Daphne so disdainful! Cupid, thy shafts are too unjustly… Fond love, thy wounds are painful: But sith my lovely jewel

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…

Happy, O happy he, who not affect… The endless toils attending worldl… With mind repos’d, all discontents… In silent peace his way to heav’n… Deeming his life a Scene, the wor…

Happy streams, whose trembling fal… With still murmur softly gliding, Happy birds, whose chirping call, With sweet melody delighting, Hath mov’d her flinty and relentle…

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,

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

I always beg, yet never am relieve… I grieve, because my griefs are no… I cry aloud in vain, my voice outs… And get but this, mine echo calls…

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…

Away, thou shalt not love me. So shall my love seem greater And I shall love the better. Shall it be so? what say you? Why speak you not I pray you?