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

Change me, O heav’ns, into the ru… That on my love’s fair locks doth… Yet leave me speech, to her to mak… And give me eyes, her beauties to… Or, if you will not make my flesh…

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…

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…

Fly not so swift, my dear, behold… If not a smiling glance for all my… Yet kill me with thy frowns. The Satyrs o’er the lawns full ni… Frisk it apace to view thy beauty’…

Thus love commands, that I in vai… And sorrow will that she shall sti… Yet did I hope, which hope my lif… To hear her say, alas! His love w…

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,

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…

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…

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…

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…

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:

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

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…

Lady, when I behold the roses spr… Which clad in damask mantles deck… And then behold your lips, where s… My eyes present me with a double d… For, viewing both alike, hardly my…