Cruel, behold my heavy ending, See what you wrought by your disda… Causeless I die, love still atten… Your hopeless pity of my complaini… Suffer those eyes which thus have…

Happy, O happy he, who not affect… The endless toils attending worldl… With mind repos’d, all discontents… In silent peace his way to heav’n… Deeming his life a Scene, the wor…

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!

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,

Where most my thoughts, there leas… Where least I come, there most my… Where most I love, I never show m… From what my mind doth hold, my bo… I careless seem, where most my car…

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

Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face; Nor for any outward part, No, nor for my constant heart: For those may fail or turn to ill,

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…

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,

Unkind, O, stay thy flying! And if I needs must die, pity me… But in thee, my heart is lying And no death can assail me, Alas! till life doth fail thee,

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…

Alas! What a wretched life is thi… Nay what a death! Where tyrant Lo… My flow’€™ring days are in their p… All my proud hope quite fall’€™n,… My joys each after other, in haste…

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…

As matchless beauty thee a Phoeni… Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet… For when young Acon’s eye thy pro… Thou diest in him, and livest in m…

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…