1 With My Love My Life Was Nestled Robert Southwell ° a ‘Thomas Morley (he First Boke of Ayres — 1600) life was nest - led, wer ert r tm 2, Where the truth once was and is not, 3. © true since thou hast left me, Shadows are but vanities, Mortal life is tedious, Shewing want that help they cannot, Death it is to live without thee, Signs not slaves of miseries. Death of all most odious, Painted meat no hunger feeds, ‘Turn again and take me with thee, Dying life each death exceeds. Let me die, of live thou in me.2 Come, Sorrow, Come ‘Thomas Morley (The First Booke of Ayres — 1600) all the worldfold thine arms and wring, and wy rf eat hands, thy wretch = ed v, stare where - in poor Sor = Nos u. Lip 2. Cry not out-right, for that were children’s guise, 3. And let our fate be dishes of despite, But let thy tears fall trickling down thy face, To break our hearts and not out fasts withal, ‘And weep so long until thy blubber'd eyes Then let us sup, with sorrow sops at night, ‘May see (in sum) the depth of thy disgrace. ‘And bitter sauce, al of a broken gall. shake thy head, but not a word but mum; ‘Thus let us live till heav'ns may rue to see ‘The heart once dead, the tongue is stroken dumb, The doleful doom ordain’d for thee and me.3 It Was a Lover and His Lass ‘William Shakespeare (As You Like It) ‘Thomas Morley (The First Booke of Ayres — 1600) nde was alov- cr + and his lasse, Witha aye, with a hoe and a ‘That Ore the green come fields did passe In spring time, in fe eae) is P 6 i birds doe sing, hay ding a ding a ding, hay i peespringe. In spring ding « hay | d 4 ding a ding, ding 2 dinga ding. Sweete lov es love the springe. ing 2 ding, ng Pri 23 2 F iF . 2. Betweene the Akers of the rie, 3. This Carrell they began that houre, With a hay, with a ho and a hay nonie no, With a hay, with a ho and a hay nonie no, ‘These prettie Countrie fooles would lie, How that a life was but a flower, In spring time... In spring time... 4. Then prettie louers take the time, With a hay, with a ho and a hay nonie no, For loue is crowned with the prime, In spring time.A The Willow Song u William Shakespeare (Othello) Anonymous eal hb ~™ ~ @e Sing wil lo willow, wil- low. Withhis hand in his bo- som and his 1. 2 3f A F3 head up-on his knee, wil low, wil-low, wil- low, wil- low, © wil: low, wil- low, wil- low, be my gar- land. Sing alla green wil- low, wil - loxwillow, io heen ar pee be iS wil - low must my gar - land. E 7H 5 or FR 2. He sighed in his i 5. Lt Love no more oat hein place nor bower, ‘Sing willow, Whaat beh eet bes Rowe am ded tl ler, my ue love she gore, S wilow. 6. Thos fr and moe file, ied wth hy wound, Tho bat ot the weet over tht gor pon the round 3. The mute bird sat by him, was made tame by his moans; ‘The tmue tears fell from him would have melted the stones. _7. Let nobody chide her, her frowns I approve, She was born to be false and I to die for love. 4.Come all you forsaken and mourn you with me; Who speaks of a false love, mine’s falser than she. 8, Take this for my farewell and latest adew. Write this on my tomb, that is in love I was true.5 When Laura Smiles Philip Rosseter (A Booke of Ayres — 1601) both ight and hee wan - ton 2. [See where] The sprites that remain in fleeting air, 3, Diana’s eyes are not adorn'd with greater pow'r Affect for pastime to untwine her tressed hair, ‘Than Laura’s when she lists awhile for sport to lour And the birds think sweet Aurora Morning's queen doth shine, But when she her eyes encloseth, blindness doth appeas, From her bright sphere when Laura shows her looks divine. ‘The chiefest grace of beauty sweetly seated there. 4. Love hath no fire bur what he steals from her bright eyes, Time hath no pow'r but that which in her pleasure lies, For she with her divine beauties all the world subdues, And fills with heav'aly spirits my humble Muse.6 Though Far from Joy Philip Rosseter (A Booke of Ayres — 1601) bove my reach would 2, The higher trees, the more storms they endure, Shrubs be trodden down, ‘But the mean, the golden mean, Doth only all our fortunes crown, Like to a stream that sweetly slideth, Through the flowery banks, and still in the midst his course guideth.u" 7 If She Forsake Me Philip Rosseter (A Booke of Ayres — 1601) — she for- sake me 1 must die, Shall 1 tall her so. A- Jas chan sraighe will she te - ply No 20 no no no, “a =~ (a I dis-close sport there = at re- lent = 2, What heart can long such pains abide, 3. 1 do my love in lines commend, Fie upon this love, But alas in vain, 1 would adventure far and wide, ‘The costly gifts that I do send, If it would remove, She returns again. But love will still my steps pursue, ‘Thus still is my despair procurd, Tcannot his ways eschew, ‘And her malice more assur'd, Thus still helpless hopes I prove. ‘Then come Death and end my pain.8 If My Complaints John Dowland (The First Boke of Songs — 1597) Thy griefe in My hart for deepe sighes still speakes, Yer thou dost 1 des - un - kind - ness breakes, Thou saist thou canst my harmes fee 2. Can love be ritch and yet I want, If love doth make mens lives too soure, Is love my judge and yet am I condemn’d? Let me not love, nor live henceforth, ‘Thou plenty hast, yet me dose scant, Die shall my hopes, but not my faith ‘Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemn'd ‘That you that of my fall may hearers be, ‘That I do live itis thy power, May here despaire, which truly saith ‘That I desire it is thy worth, T was more true 0 love than love to me.13 9 Fine Knacks for. Ladies John Dowland (The Second Booke of Songs and Ayres — 1600) 1. Fine Kknacks for I : Ia dics, cheape choise brave a)-F* and new, Good pen - ai - ep a arf fot the fier 10 Hi ber ~ all The hart ah ; iF 2, Great gifts are guiles and looke for gifts againe, 3. Wichin this pack pinnes points laces and gloves, My trifles come, as treasures from my minde, ‘And divers toies fitting a country faier, Ie is a precious Jewell to bee plaine, But in my hart where duety serves and loves, Sometimes in shell th’ orients pearles we finde, Turtels and twins, courts brood, a heavenly paier: Of others take a sheaf, of me a graine, Happy the hart thincks of no removes Of mea graine ‘Of no removes, Of me a graine. Of no removes.10 Weepe You No More John Dowland (The Third and Last Booke of Songs and Ayres — 1603) 1. Weepe you no more sad foun - saines, What fos rr Fe Heav'as sunne15 ty, now soft 2, Sleepe is a reconciling, ‘A rest that peace begets: Doth not the sunne tise smiling, When faire at ev'n he sets, Rest you, then rest sad eyes, Melt not in weeping, ‘While she lies sleeping Softy, now softy lies Sleeping.16 11 White as Lilies faith with Quit - ting 2. When I swore my heart her own, She disdained, T complained; Yet she left me overthrown, Careless of my bitter grieving, Ruthless bent to no relieving. John Dowland (The Second Booke of Songs and Ayres — 1600) When she (Oh! that love should have the art, By surmises| And disguises, To destroy a faithful heart; (Or that wanton-looking women smiled be = guil-eds 3. Vows and oaths and faith assur'd, Constant ever, Changing never; Yet she could not be procur’d To believe my pains exceeding, From her scant neglect proceeding. Should reward their friends as foemen.” 12 Rest Sweet Nimphs Francis Pilkington (The First Booke of Songs — 1605) 1. Rest sweet symphs let your star-bright-er eyes 3)-F# Z Whilse my the watch doth keep rot G3) Lal - a bul - a= by, Lal- la ll = la-by, Sleep sweet - ly, m, | 1 r F Sleep sweety, Let noth - ing af- fright ye, In calm con - tent ments lie, m 2, Dream fair virgins of delight, 3. Thus dear damsels I do give And blest Elysian groves: Goodnight and so am gone: Whiles the wand’ring shades of night, With your heart’s desires long live Resemble your true loves. Suill joy, and never moan, Lalla lullaby, Lalla lullaby, Your kisses Hath pleas'd you Your blisses And eas'd you, Send them by your wishes, And sweet slumber seiz'd you, Although they be not nigh. ‘And now to bed I hie.13 Ay Me, She Frowns Francis Pilkington (The First Booke of Songs — 1605) me, she frowns, mend = ed: My fault from love pro-ceed = ed, Te me- sits grace the 1 ; , tT no dan-ger drea- ded, It was to win your fa - vour. ied) ‘Then clear those clouds, then smile on me, Andae > ; SS S45 os aes Come wake lk, b I 24 J. Sada + ay ==: str Pf pS tae ; = SS 7] = a = 5] 2, Why low'rs my love, and blots so sweet a beauty? © be appeas'd with vows, with faith and duty: Give over to be cruel, Sith kindness seems you better, ‘You have but chang’d a jewel, And love is not your debtor. Then, welcome mirth, and banish moan, Show pity your lover, Come play, come sport, The thing that’s gone No sorrow can recover. wy 3. Sell are you angry, and is there no relenting? (© weigh my woes, be mov'd with my lamenting: ‘Alas my heart is grieved, Mine inward soul doth sorrow, Unless I be relieved 1 die before tomorrow. ‘The coast is clea’, her countenance cheer Tam again in grace, ‘The farewell fear, then come my dear, Lets dally and embrace.14 Oft Thou Hast John Coprario (Funeral Teares — 1606) more my joy, the more, the more my woe. Grr ae ttre els b 2. Music, though it sweetens pain, ‘And enchants their fancies so, ‘Yet no whit impairs lamenting: ‘That all comforts they disdain, But in passions like consenting, And fly from joy, and fly from joy to dwell, ‘Makes them constant that complain: To dwell with woe.21 15 Tobacco Is Like Love Tobias Hume (Musicall Humors — 1605) TS - bac - €B, Tobac- co Sing sweetlyfor To - bac - co, TO-bac-co is like VIL nnn ® -r# love, 0 ove itnForyousee Twill prove 1 prowl So dothTo - bac-<, Loves dries uppe humor, So doth To = bac-co, m ‘ Vil feares, So doth'To - bac-co, Love of-ten sets men by a the” cares, So doth To- bacco,15 Tobacco Is Like Love Tobias Hume (Masicall Humors — 1605) 1,2, TB - bac - €, Tobae - €0 ° vu Q) rt Sing swoetlyfor'To - bac - co, TO-bac-co is like love, 2 So doth To - Love stil dries bic, uppe the m wanton, | humor, So doth To - _bac-co, 3 wo cs doth ‘To- bacco, Lovemakesmen scone al Cow - ard vi vu, a feares, So dothTo - bac-co, Lowe of-ten sets u, m i16 Love Is a Bable Robert Jones (The Second Booke of Songs and Ayres — 1601) is aba- ble, love is a be- ble, man is a - ble Tis full of pas - sions 4 uf 1 can- not, 2. Loves fayre i'th Cradle, 3. Love is a fellowe, Foule in the sable, Clad oft in yellowe, Tis eyther to0 cold or too hot, ‘The canker-worme of the mind, An arrand lyar, A privie mishiefe, Fed by desire, ‘And such a slye thiefe, Its, and yer is not, ‘No man knowes which 4. Lové is a wonder, That's here and yonder, ‘As common to one as to moe, A monstrous cheater, Everie mans debter, Hang him, and so let him goe.23 17 Sweet If You Like Robert Jones (The Thisd Booke of Ayses — 1605) 1. Sweet iP you ike and love me — stil, And yyeeld me love for And do not from your prom- ise stat When your. fair hand gave 3)-Ft (Jed) vy, Like cop-stant Mar- ble stone, 2, 2. But if you favour moe than me (Who loves thee still, and none but thee,) If others do the harvest gaine, That's due to me forall my paine: Yet that you love to range, And oft to chop and change. ‘Then get you some new fangled mate: ‘My doting love shal turne to hate, Esteeming you (though too too late) Not worth a peble stone, Loving not me alone.18 Now Winter Nights Enlarge clouds well - 2. This time doth well dispence With lovers long discourse; ‘Mach speech hath some defence, ‘Though beauty no remorse. All doe not all things well; ‘Some measures comely tread youth full Re - vels, Masks, and Court- ly sights, ‘Thomas Campian (The Third Booke of Ayres — 1617) + lage charge Up - on maze With har - Shall waite on Sleepes lead re Some knotted Ridles tell; Some Poems smoothly read. ‘The summer hath his joyes, ‘And Winter his delights; ‘Though Love and all his pleasures are but toyes, They shorten tedious nights.25 19 What Harvest Half So Sweet Is RP ‘when thre greene, Want 2. The Dove alone expresses Her fervencie in kisses, Of all most loving: A creature as offenceleste, As those things that ate sencelesse, ‘Thomas Campian (The Second Booke of Ayres — 1613) And void of moving. Let us so love and kisse, Though all envie us: ‘That which kinde, and harmlesse is, ‘None can denie us.26 20 Turne Backe You Wanton Flyer ‘Thomas Campian (from Ph. Rosetter’s “A Booke of Ayres” — 1601) my de- sire stil shines cleer rr ced Should strive tobe u Either others ames with armes en chayn light - im 4, r , 3 Harts with a thought, ro-sie lips With a kisse 2. What harvest halfe so sweete is ‘There's no strickt observing, As still to reape the kisses Of times, or seasons changing, Growne ripe in sowing, ‘There is ever one fresh spring abiding, And staight to be receiver, ‘Then what we sow with our lips Of that which chou art giver, ‘Let us reape loves gaines deviding, Rich in bestowing,