The Lady Oriana Was dight all in the treasures of… And on her Grace a thousand grace… And thus sang they, fair Queen of… The fairest queen of twenty:

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…

Thus saith my Cloris bright, when we of Love sit downe and talk… Beware of Love, deere, Love is a… And Love is this and that, And O I wot not what,

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…

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…

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…

Oft have I vow’d how dearly I did… And oft observ’d thee with all wil… Sighs I have sent, still hoping t… Millions of tears I tender’d to t… Yet thou of sighs and silly tears…

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’…

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,

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…

When shall my wretched life give p… That my sad cares may be enforc’€™… Come, saddest shadow, stop my vita… For I am thine, then let not care… Of thy sad thrall but, with thy fa…

Sweet love, if thou wilt gain a mo… Subdue her heart, who makes me gla… Out of thy golden quiver, Take thou the strongest arrow, That will, thro’€™ bone and marrow…

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…

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: