Sorrow was there made fair,
And Passion wise; Tears a delightful thing;
Silence beyond all speech, a wisdom rare:
She made her sighs to sing,

And all things with so sweet a sadness move
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.

O fairer than aught else

The world can show, leave off in time to grieve!
Enough, enough: your joyful look excels:
Tears kill the heart, believe.

O strive not to be excellent in woe,
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.

67.

Sister, Awake!

Thomas Bateson's First Set of
English Madrigals, 1604

SISTER, awake! close not your eyes!

The day her light discloses,

And the bright morning doth arise
Out of her bed of roses.

See the clear sun, the world's bright eye,

In at our window peeping:

Lo, how he blusheth to espy
Us idle wenches sleeping!

Therefore awake! make haste, I say,

And let us, without staying,

All in our gowns of green so gay
Into the Park a-maying!

Captain Tobias Hume's The First
Part of Airs, &c., 1605

FAIN would I change that note

To which fond Love hath charm'd me

Long, long to sing by rote,

Fancying that that harm'd me:

Yet when this thought doth come,

'Love is the perfect sum
Of all delight,'

I have no other choice

Either for pen or voice
To sing or write.

O Love! they wrong thee much
That say thy sweet is bitter,
When thy rich fruit is such
As nothing can be sweeter.
Fair house of joy and bliss,
Where truest pleasure is,
I do adore thee:

I know thee what thou art,
I serve thee with my heart,

And fall before thee.

69.

Since First I saw your Face

Thomas Ford's Music of
Sundry Kinds, 1607

INCE first I saw your face I resolved to honour and

SINCE

renown ye;

If now I be disdainèd I wish my heart had never

known ye.

What? I that loved and you that liked, shall we begin to

wrangle?

No, no, no, my heart is fast, and cannot disentangle.

If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me;

Or if my hands had stray'd but a touch, then justly might you leave me.

I ask'd you leave, you bade me love; is 't now a time to chide me?

No, no, no, I'll love you still what fortune e'er betide me.

The Sun, whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder,

And your sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder:

Where beauty moves and wit delights and signs of kindness bind me,

There, O there! where'er I go I'll leave my heart behind me !

70. There is a Lady sweet and kind

Thomas Ford's Music of
Sundry Kinds, 1607

HERE is a Lady sweet and kind,

THE

Was never face so pleased my mind;

I did but see her passing by,

And yet I love her till I die.

Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.

Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change:
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.

71.

72.

Love not me for comely grace

John Wilbye's Second Set of Madrigals, 1609

LOVE not me for comely grace,

For my pleasing eye or face,

Nor for any outward part,

No, nor for a constant heart:

For these may fail or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever:

Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,
And love me still but know not why-
So hast thou the same reason still

To doat upon me ever!

The Wakening

John Attye's First Book of Airs, 1622

N a time the amorous Silvy

ΟΝ

Said to her shepherd, Sweet, how do ye?
Kiss me this once and then God be with ye,
My sweetest dear!

Kiss me this once and then God be with ye,
For now the morning draweth near.'

With that, her fairest bosom showing,
Op'ning her lips, rich perfumes blowing,
She said, 'Now kiss me and be going,
My sweetest dear!

Kiss me this once and then be going,
For now the morning draweth near.'

With that the shepherd waked from sleeping,
And spying where the day was peeping,
He said, 'Now take my soul in keeping,

My sweetest dear!

Kiss me and take my soul in keeping,
Since I must go, now day is near.”

73.

NICHOLAS BRETON

Phillida and Coridon

IN the merry month of May,

In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walk'd by the wood-side
When as May was in his pride:
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Coridon.

Much ado there was, God wot!
He would love and she would not.
She said, Never man was true;
He said, None was false to you.
He said, He had loved her long;
She said, Love should have no wrong.
Coridon would kiss her then ;
She said, Maids must kiss no men
Till they did for good and all;
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth
Never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not Love abuse,
Love, which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded;
And Phillida, with garlands gay,
Was made the Lady of the May.

1542-1626