The trickling tears that fall alon… The secret sighs that show my inwa… The present pains perforce that L… Bid me renew my cares without reli… In woeful song, in dole display,

The lively lark stretched forth he… The messenger of Morning bright; And with her cheerful voice did si… The Day’s approach, discharging N… When that Aurora blushing red,

Even as the wax doth melt, or dew… Before the sun, so I, behold, thr… For my best luck leads me to such… That I do waste with others’ love… And he that beats the bush the wis…

Sitting alone upon my thought in m… In sight of sea, and at my back an… I saw a fair young lady come, her… Clad all in color of a nun, and co… Yet (for the day was calm and clea…

If care or skill could conquer vai… Or Reason’s reins my strong affec… There should my sighs to quiet bre… And shun such signs as secret thou… Uncomely Love which now lurks in…

My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find That it excels all other bliss That world affords or grows by kin… Though much I want which most men…

Love is a discord and a strange di… Betwixt our sense and rest, by who… As mad with reason, we admit that… Which wit or labour never may divo… It is a will that brooketh no cons…

I am not as I seem to be, For when I smile I am not glad; A thrall, although you count me fr… I, most in mirth, most pensive sad… I smile to shade my bitter spite

The labouring man that tills the f… And reaps the harvest fruit, hath… The gain, but pain; and if for all… He gets the straw, the lord will h… The manchet fine falls not unto hi…

Doth sorrow fret thy soul? O… Doth pleasure feed thy heart? O b… Hast thou been happy once? O hea… Are thy mishaps forepast? O… Or hast thou bliss in eld?…

What cunning can express The favour of her face? To whom in this distress, I do appeal for grace. A thousand Cupids fly

Fram’d in the front of forlorn hop… I stayless stand, to abide the sho… My life, through ling’ring long, i… My death delay’d to keep from life… My sprites, my heart, my wit and f…

A crown of bays shall that man wea… That triumphs over me; For black and tawny will I wear, Which mourning colors be. The more I follow’d one,