Orpheus I am, come from the deeps… To thee, fond man, the plagues of… To the fair fields where loves ete… There’s none that come, but first… Hark, and beware! unless thou hast…

Oh, fair sweet face! oh, eyes, cel… Twin stars in heaven, that now ado… Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries… And damask cheeks, where all sweet… Oh, thou, from head to foot divine…

AWAY, delights! go seek some oth…    For I must die. Farewell, false love! thy tongue i…    Lie after lie. For ever let me rest now from thy…

Oh, fair sweet goddess, queen of l… Soft and gentle as thy doves, Humble-eyed, and ever ruing Those poor hearts, their loves pur… Oh, thou mother of delights,

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers

HENCE, all you vain delights,    As short as are the nights    Wherein you spend your folly! There 's naught in this life sweet… If men were wise to see’t,

DRINK to-day, and drown all sorr… You shall perhaps not do it tomorr… Best, while you have it, use your… There is no drinking after death. Wine works the heart up, wakes the…

Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again,

Care-charming Sleep, thou easer o… Brother to Death, sweetly thyself… On this afflicted prince; fall lik… In gentle showers; give nothing th… Or painful to his slumbers; easy,…

BEAUTY clear and fair,    Where the air Rather like a perfume dwells;    Where the violet and the rose    Their blue veins and blush disc…

It is late and cold; stir up the… Sit close, and draw the table nigh… Be merry, and drink wine that’s ol… A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold: Your beds of wanton down the best,

NOW the lusty spring is seen;    Golden yellow, gaudy blue,    Daintily invite the view: Everywhere on every green Roses blushing as they blow,

Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly: There’s nought in this life sweet, If man were wise to see’t,

SING his praises that doth keep    Our flocks from harm. Pan, the father of our sheep;    And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round,

GOD Lyaeus, ever young, Ever honour’d, ever sung, Stain’d with blood of lusty grapes… In a thousand lusty shapes Dance upon the mazer’s brim,