#English
What needeth all this travail and… Shortening the life’s pleasure To seek this far-fetched treasure In those hot climates under Phoeb…
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?
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…
A silly sylvan, kissing heav’n-bor… Scorched his lips for his so fond… I, not so fond, but gaz’d whilst s… And all my heart straight into fla… The sylvan justly suffer’d for his…
Ah! cruel Amarillis, since thou t… To hear the accents of a doleful d… To triumph still without remorse o… I loathe this life, death must my… And lest vain hope my miseries ren…
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…
Fly, Love, aloft to heav’n and lo… Then sweetly, sweetly, sweetly her… That I from my Calisto best belov… As you and she set down be never m… And, Love, to Carimel see you com…
Of joys and pleasing pains I late… O joys with pains! O pains with j… And little thought as then of now… But now think of my then sweet bit… All day long I my hands, alas! go…
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…
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…
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…
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,
Hard destinies are love and beauty… Fair Daphne so disdainful! Cupid, thy shafts are too unjustly… Fond love, thy wounds are painful: But sith my lovely jewel
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…
Ay me; can every rumour Thus start my lady’s humour? Name ye some gallant to her Why straight forsooth I woo her. Then burst she forth in passion: