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…

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…

Flora gave me fairest flowers, None so fair in Flora’s treasure: These I plac’d on Phillis’ bowers… She was pleas’d, and she my pleasu… Smiling meadows seem to say,

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,

Dear pity, how, ah! how, wouldst t… That best becometh beauty’s best a… Shall my desert deserve no favour… But still to waste myself in deep… Like him who calls to echo to reli…

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…

Die, hapless man, since she denies… Die, and despair, sith she doth sc… Farewell, most fair, tho’ thou dos… Sith for my duteous love thou dost… Those smiling eyes, that sometimes…

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…

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…

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…

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…

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!

I fall, I fall, O stay me, Dear love, with joys you slay me, Of life your lips deprive me, Sweet, let your lips revive me, O whither are you hasting,

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’…