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

Lady, your words do spite me, Yet your sweet lips, so soft, kiss… Your deeds my heart surcharg’d wit… Your taunts my life destroying. Since both have force to spill me,

So light is love, in matchless bea… When she revisits Cypris’ hallow’… Two feeble doves, harness’d in sil… Can draw her chariot 'midst the P… Lightness to love, how ill it fitt…

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…

Ah! cannot sighs not tears, nor au… To pity me, who more than life do… O cruel fates! see, now away she’€… And fly, alas! alas! and leave me… Farewell, most fair, farewell, yet…

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…

I sung sometimes my thoughts’€™ an… Where then I list, or time serv’€… While Daphne did invite me To supper once, and drank to me to… I smil’€™d, yet still did doubt he…

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,

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…

Long have I made these hills and… With noise of these my shrieks and… She only, who should make me merry… Hears not my prayer: That I, alas! misfortune’s son an…

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…

I live, and yet methinks I do not… I thirst, and drink, and drink, an… I sleep, and yet I dream I am awa… I hope for that I have; I have an… I sing and sigh; I love and hate…

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…

Sweet honey-sucking bees, why do y… surfeit on roses, pinks and violet… as if the choicest nectar lay in t… wherewith you store your curious c… Ah, make your flight to Melisuavi…

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!