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…

And though my love abounding, Did make me fall a sounding, Yet am I well contented, Still so to be tormented, And death can never fear me,

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…

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…

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…

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…

Despiteful thus unto myself, I la… And in disdain, myself from joy I… These secret thoughts enwrap me so… That life, I hope. will soon from… And to some rest will quickly be c…

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…

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…

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…

I am quite tired with my groans; O’ercharged with a heavy load Of miseries, breaking all my bones… Laid on me justly by my God.

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,

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?

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…