s _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597.

My Thoughts are winged with Hopes, my Hopes with Love:
Mount Love unto the moon in clearest night,
And say, as she doth in the heavens move,
In earth so wanes and waxeth my delight:
And whisper this, but softly, in her ears,
"Hope oft doth hang the head and Trust shed tears."

And you, my Thoughts, that some mistrust do carry,
If for mistrust my mistress do you blame,
Say, though you alter, yet you do not vary,
As she doth change and yet remain the same;
Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect,
And Love is sweetest seasoned with Suspect.

If she for this with clouds do mask her eyes
And make the heavens dark with her disdain,
With windy sighs disperse them in the skies
Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain.
Thoughts, Hopes, and Love, return to me no more
Till Cynthia shine as she hath done before.

From THOMAS CAMPION's _Third Book of Airs_ (circ. 1613).

Never love unless you can
Bear with all the faults of man:
Men sometimes will jealous be
Though but little cause they see;
And hang the head as discontent,
And speak what straight they will repent.

Men that but one saint adore
Make a show of love to more;
Beauty must be scorned in none,
Though but truly served in one:
For what is courtship but disguise?
True hearts may have dissembling eyes.

Men, when their affairs require,
Must awhile themselves retire;
Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawk,
And not ever sit and talk:
If these and such-like you can bear,
Then like, and love, and never fear!

From JOHN FARMER's _First Set of English Madrigals_, 1599. (Verses by
Samuel Daniel.)

Now each creature joys the other,
Passing happy days and hours:
One bird reports unto another
By the fall of silver showers;
Whilst the Earth, our common Mother,
Hath her bosom decked with flowers.

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals_, 1597.

Now every tree renews his summer's green,
Why is your heart in winter's garments clad?
Your beauty says my love is summer's queen,
But your cold love like winter makes me sad:
Then either spring with buds of love again
Or else congeal my thoughts with your disdain.

From _Pammelia_, 1609.

Now God be with old Simeon,
For he made cans for many-a-one,
And a good old m