All pleasure is of this condition, It pricks men forward to fruition, But if enjoy’d, then like the humm… The honey being shed, away doth fl… But leaves a sting, that wounds th…

Down in a valley as Alexis trips, Daphne sat sweetly sleeping. Soon as the wanton touch’€™d her r… She nicely falls aweeping. The wag full softly lifts her,

Yet, sweet, take heed, all sweets… Sting not her soft lips, Oh bewar… For if one flaming dart come from… Was never dart so sharp, ah, then…

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…

Weep, O mine eyes and cease not, Out alas, these your spring tides… O when begin you to swell so high that I may drown…

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…

Thus saith my Cloris bright, when we of Love sit downe and talk… Beware of Love, deere, Love is a… And Love is this and that, And O I wot not what,

I love, alas! yet am not loved, For cruel she to pity is not moved… My constant love with scorn she il… Only my sighs a little she regarde… Yet more and more the quenchless f…

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…

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,

There, where I saw her lovely bea… Where, Venus-like, my sacred godd… There, with *precellent object min… That fair, but fatal star, my dole… As soon as morning in her light ap…

I fall, I fall, O stay me, Dear love, with joys you slay me, Of life your lips deprive me, Sweet, let your lips revive me, O whither are you hasting,

There is a jewel, which no Indian… Can buy, no chymic art can counter… It makes men rich in greatest pove… Makes water wine; turns wooden cup… The homely whistle, to sweet music…

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?

Softly, O! dropp mine eyes, lest… And make my heart with grief to me… Now pour out tears apace, Now stay, O heavy case! O sour sweet woe!