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…

Ye restless thoughts, that harbour… Cease your assaults and let my hea… And let my tongue have leave to te… That she may pity, though not gran… Pity would help, alas, what love h…

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,

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…

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!

Long have I made these hills and… With noise of these my shrieks and… She only, who should make me merry… Hears not my prayer: That I, alas! misfortune’s son an…

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…

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,

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

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…

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…

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…

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…

My throat is sore, my voice is hoa… My rests are sighs, deep from the… My song runs all on sharps, and wi… Time on my breast, I shrink with… Thus still, and still I sing, and…

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,