Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roa… Far safer ’twere to stay at home; Where thou mayst sit, and piping,… The poor and private cottages. Since cotes and hamlets best agree

Still to our gains our chief respe… Reward it is that makes us good or…

Reach with your whiter hands to me Some crystal of the spring; And I about the cup shall see Fresh lilies flourishing. Or else, sweet nymphs, do you but…

Am I despised, because you say; And I dare swear, that I am gray? Know, Lady, you have but your day… And time will come when you shall… Such frost and snow upon your hair…

I call, I call: who do ye call? The maids to catch this cowslip ba… But since these cowslips fading be… Troth, leave the flowers, and maid… Yet, if that neither you will do,

HERE, Here I live with what my… Can with the smallest cost afford; Though ne’er so mean the viands be… They well content my Prue and me: Or pea or bean, or wort or beet,

While fates permit us, let’s be me… Pass all we must the fatal ferry; And this our life, too, whirls awa… With the rotation of the day.

These fresh beauties, we can prove… Once were virgins, sick of love, Turn’d to flowers: still in some, Colours go and colours come.

In numbers, and but these few, I sing thy birth, oh JESU! Thou pretty Baby, born here, With sup’rabundant scorn here; Who for thy princely port here,

Man knows where first he ships him… Never can tell where shall his lan…

Down with the rosemary and bays, Down with the misletoe; Instead of holly, now up-raise The greener box, for show. The holly hitherto did sway;

When words we want, Love teacheth… And what we blush to speak, she bi…

No news of navies burnt at seas; No noise of late spawn’d tittyries… No closet plot or open vent, That frights men with a Parliamen… No new device or late-found trick,

First offer incense; then, thy fie… Shall smile and smell the better b… The spangling dew dredged o’er the… Turn’d all to mell and manna there… Butter of amber, cream, and wine,…

These springs were maidens once th… But lost to that they most approve… My story tells, by Love they were Turn’d to these springs which we s… The pretty whimpering that they ma…