ring-a,
Thus we dance and thus we sing-a;
Trip and go, to and fro,
Over this green-a;
All about, in and out,
Over this green-a.

From _Melismata_, 1611.

THE COURTIER'S GOOD MORROW TO HIS MISTRESS.

Canst thou love and lie alone?
Love is so disgraced,
Pleasure is best
Wherein is rest
In a heart embraced.
Rise, rise, rise!
Daylight do not burn out;
Bells do ring and birds do sing,
Only I that mourn out.

Morning-star doth now appear,
Wind is hushed and sky is clear;
Come, come away, come, come away!
Canst thou love and burn out day?
Rise, rise, rise!
Daylight do not burn out;
Bells do ring [and] birds do sing,
Only I that mourn out.

From ROBERT DOWLAND's _Musical Banquet_, 1610. (Lines by the Earl of
Essex.)

Change thy mind since she doth change,
Let not fancy still abuse thee,
Thy untruth cannot seem strange
When her falsehood doth excuse thee:
Love is dead and thou art free,
She doth live but dead to thee.

Whilst she loved thee best a while,
See how she hath still delayed thee:
Using shows for to beguile,
Those vain hopes that have deceived thee:
Now thou seest, although too late,
Love loves truth which women hate.

Love no more since she is gone,
She is gone and loves another:
Being once deceived by one,
Leave her love but love none other.
She was false, bid her adieu,
She was best but yet untrue.

Love, farewell, more dear to me
Than my life, which thou preservest.
Life, all joys are gone from thee;
Others have what thou deservest.
Oh my death doth spring from hence,
I must die for her offence.

Die, but yet before thou die,
Make her know what she hath gotten,
She in whom my hopes did lie
Now is changed, I quite forgotten.
She is changed, but changed base,
Baser in so vild a place.

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Five and Six Parts_, 1600.

Cold Winter's ice is fled and gone,
And Summer brags on every tree,
The red-breast peeps amidst the throng
Of wood-born birds that wanton be:
Each one forgets what they have been,
And so doth Phyllis, Summer's queen.

From JOHN DOWLAND's _First Book of Songs or Airs_, 1597.

Come away! come, sweet Love!
The golden morning breaks;
All the earth, all the ai