Ayres or Phantasticke Sprits for Three Voices

Come, come lets begin to revel't out,
And tread the hilles and dales about,
That hilles and dales and woodes may sound,
An echo to this warbling round.

Lads merry bee with musicke sweete,
and Faires trip it with your feet,
Pan's pipe is dull, a better straine,
doth stretch it selfe to please your vaine.

Jockey, thine horn pipes dull 
give wind man at full, 
fie upon such a sad gul, 
like an hoody doody, 
all too moody 
toodle, toodle, pipe it up thicker, 
ile tread it the quicker: 

Darite growes so grave, 
I may not her have: 
In a round when I do crave, 
with hoop sir hoy day, 
O you hurt me toodle, toodle, 
pipe it up thicker, 
ile tread it the quicker:

Then if the chance to glance in, 
Give us two roome to dance in
like an hoody doody, 
all too moody 
toodle, toodle, pipe it up thicker, 
ile tread it the quicker: 

why then about it roundly, 
and I will foot it soundly, 
ile take my steps the shorter, 
as if I trampled morter.

Set me thy worke by, 
and come to me smurkly
and I will foot it soundly, 
ile take my steps the shorter, 
as if I trampled morter.

Though my green jerkin bare is 
Us two to all the parish 
and I will foot it soundly, 
ile take my steps the shorter, 
as if I trampled morter.

Some men desire spouses,
That come of noble houses,
And some would have in marriage 
Ladies of courtly carriage.
  Fa, la, la.
But few desire as I do,
The maidenhead of a widow.
  Fa, la, la.

Some think fair youth will cherish,
Strength that begins to perish.
I'll have no colts to taming,
Let me be young'st at gaming.
  Fa, la, la.
I'll get, or I'll go nigh too,
The Maidenhead of a widow.
  Fa, la, la.

Tomorrow is the marriage day
Of Mopius and fair Philliday;
Come shepherds, bring your garlands gay.

If love lie in so foul a nest,
And foulness on so fair a breast,
What lover may not hope the best?

O do not weep, fair Bellamour;
Though he be gone, there's many more,
For love has many loves in store.

Upon a hill the bonny boy
  Sweet Thyrsis sweetly played,
And called his lambs their master’s joy,
  And more he would have said;
But love that gives the lover wings
Withdrew his mind from other things.

His pipe and he could not agree,
  For Milla was his note;
The silly pipe could never get
  This lovely name by rote:
With that they both fell in a sound,
He fell a-sleep, his pipe to ground.

Come sirrah Jack ho,
fill some Tobacco,
bring a wire and some fire,
haste away, quick I say,
do not stay shun delay,
for I drank none good today.

I swear that this Tobacco
it's perfect Trinidado
by the very Mass never was
better gear than is here
by the rood, for the blood
it is very good 'tis very good.

Fill the pipe once more, my brains dance trenchmore,
it is heady I am giddy,
My head and brains, back and reins,
joints and veins, from all pains
it doth well purge and make clean.

Then those that do condemn it,
or such as not commend it,
never were so wise to learn
good Tobacco to discern
Let them go, pluck a crow,	
and not know, as I do,
the sweet of Trinidado.

Tantara, rantara, cries Mars on bloody rapier,
Fa la, fa la, fa la, fa la, cries Venus in her chamber.
Toodle loodle loo, cries Pan that cuckoo,
With bells at his shoe, and a fiddle too.
Aye me, but I, alas, lie weeping,
For death has slain my sweeting,
Which hath my heart in keeping.

The Gods have heard my vows, 
fond Lyce whose fair brows 
won't scorn with such disdain, 
my love, my tears, my pain. 
Fa, la, la, etc.

But now those springtime roses 
are turn'd to winter poses, 
to rue and thyme and sage
fitting that shrivell'd age. 
Fa, la, la, etc.

Now youths with hot desire 
see that flameless fire 
which erst your hearts so burn'd 
quick into ashes turn'd. 
Fa, la, la, etc.

Though my carriage be but careless,
though my looks be of the sternest,
yet my passions be compareless,
when I love, I love in earnest.

No, my wits are not so wild
but a gentle soul may yoke me,
nor my heart so hard compiled
but it melts, if love provoke me.

The ape, the monkey and baboon did meet,
And breaking of their fast in Friday street, 
Two of them swore together solemnly 
In their three natures was a sympathy.

Nay, quoth baboon,
I do deny that strain:
I have more knavery in me
than you twain.

Why, quoth the ape, I have a horse at will
In Paris Garden for to ride on still,
And there show tricks. Tush, quoth the monkey, 
For better tricks in great men's houses lie.

Tush, quoth baboon,
when men do know I come,
For sport from city, country
they will run.

No, though I shrink still
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Ay me, alas, hey ho
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Late in my rash accounting
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Four arms, two necks, one wreathing, 
Two pair of lips, one breathing.
  Fa, la, la. 
Two hearts that multiply
Sighs interchangeably.
  Fa, la, la.

The thought of this confounds me,
And as I speak it wounds me. 
  Fa, la, la.
It cannot be express'd,
Good help me while I rest.
  Fa, la, la.

Bad stomachs have their loathing,
And O this all is nothing.
  Fa, la, la.
This so with griefs doth prove,
Report oft turns in love.
  Fa, la, la.

Lord, when I think what a paltery thing
Is a glove, or a ring, or a top of a fan to brag of;
And how much a noddy will triumph in a busk point,
Snatch with the tag off, then I say
Well fare him that hath ever used close play.

And when I see what a pitiful grace
Hath a frown in the face,
Or a no in the lips of a lady;
And when I had wist she would be kiss'd
When she away did go with hey ho I end so, 
Never trust any woman more than you know.

Say, wanton, will you love me?
I love no long delaying.
Whilst that you strive to prove me,
I fear your love's decaying.

Fear not my love's decaying,
whilst that you strive to prove me.
I love no long delaying,
come, wanton, then and love me.

I bei ligustri e rose
Ch'in voi Natura pose
Donna gentil, mi fann' ogn' hor morire;
Si grave è la mia pena, e 'l mio martire.

Strike it up, Tabor
And pipe us a favour,
Thou shalt be well paid for thy labour.
I mean to spend my shoe-soul
To dance about the Maypole,
I will be blithe and brisk,
Leap and skip, hop and trip,
Turn about in the rout
Until very weary joints can scarce frisk.

Lusty Dick Hopkin
Lay on with thy napkin.
The stitching cost me but a dodkin.
The Morris were half undone
were't not for Martin of Compton.
O, well, said jigging Alce.
Pretty Jill, stand you still,
Dapper Jack means to smack.
How now, fie fie fie, you dance false. 

Ha ha! ha ha! this world doth pass
  Most merrily, I’ll be sworn;
For many an honest Indian ass
  Goes for an Unicorn.
        Farra, diddle dino;
        This is idle fino.

Ty hye! ty hye! O sweet delight!
  He tickles this age that can
Call Tullia’s ape a marmosyte
  And Leda’s goose a swan.
        Farra diddle dino;
        This is idle fino.

So so! so so! fine English days!
  When false play’s no reproach:
For he that doth the coachman praise,
  May safely use the coach.
        Farra diddle dino;
        This is idle fino.

Since Robin Hood, Maid Marian, 
And Little John are gone-a
The hobby horse was quite forgot,
When Kemp did dance alone-a
He did labor 
After the tabor.
For to dance, 
Then into France.
He took pains to skip it 
In hope of gains. He did trip it 
On the toe,
Diddle diddle diddle doe.

Fa la, now weep, now sing
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Alas, tarry bou one half hour
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As deadly serpents lurking,
So envy lyeth working,
Still to disgrace those men,
Which do strive by virtue's fame
To augment their height of name,
By labour, art and pen.

But let all carping Momi,
And idle foolish Zoili,
Whatsoe'er they will report,
I put myself in venture
To judgement's learned censure
And men of better sort.

Donna, il vostro bel viso 
A p'ra che mir ogn'hor il paradiso.
M'al mio misero core 
sen vin ogn'hor in lagrim'e dolore.

The Nightingale, the Organ of delight,
the nimble Lark, the Blackbird, and the Thrush,
and all the pretty quiristers of flight,
that chant their Music notes in ev'ry bush:
Let them no more contend who shall excel,
the Cuckoo is the bird that bears the bell.

Death hath deprived me of my dearest friend,
My dearest friend is dead and laid in grave,
In grave he rests until the world shall end 
As end must all things have.
All things must have an end that Nature wrought,
Must unto dust be brought.