O that a drop from such a sweet fount flying
Should flame like fire and leave my heart a-dying!
I burn, my tears can never drench it
Till in your eyes I bathe my heart and quench it:
But there, alas, love with his fire lies sleeping,
And all conspire to burn my heart with weeping.

From JOHN WILBYE's _Madrigals_, 1598.

Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting,
Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours,
And then behold your lips where sweet love harbours,
My eyes present me with a double doubting:
For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes
Whether the roses be your lips or your lips [be] the roses.

From J. DANYEL's _Songs for the Lute, Viol and Voice_, 1606.

Let not Chloris think, because
She hath unvassel'd me,
That her beauty can give laws
To others that are free:
I was made to be the prey
And booty of her eyes!
In my bosom, she may say.
Her greatest kingdom lies.

Though others may her brow adore,
Yet more must I that therein see far more
Than any other's eyes have power to see;
She is to me
More than to any others she can be.
I can discern more secret notes
That in the margin of her cheeks Love quotes
Than any else besides have art to read;
No looks proceed
From those fair eyes but to me wonder breed.

O then why
Should she fly
From him to whom her sight
Doth add so much above her might?
Why should not she
Still joy to reign in me?

From WILLIAM BYRD's _Psalms, Songs and Sonnets_, 1611.

Let not the sluggish sleep
Close up thy waking eye,
Until with judgment deep
Thy daily deeds thou try:
He that one sin in conscience keeps
When he to quiet goes,
More vent'rous is than he that sleeps
With twenty mortal foes.

From GEORGE MASON's and JOHN EARSDEN's _Airs that were sung and played
at Brougham Castle in Westmoreland in the King's Entertainment given by
the Earl of Cumberland_, 1618.

Let us in a lovers' round
Circle all this hallowed ground;
Softly, softly trip and go,
The light-foot Fairies jet it so.
Forward then, and back again,
Here and there and everywhere,
Winding to and fro,
Skipping high and louting low;
And, like lovers, hand in hand,
March around and make a stand.

From THOMAS WEELKES' _Madrigals of Six Parts_, 1600.

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