First Book of Songs or Airs

Now peep, boe peep, thrise happie blest mine eies,
For I have found faire Phillis where she lies,
Upon her bad, with armes unspred, all fast asleepe,
Look to your selves, new charge I must approve,
Phillis doth sleepe, and must guard my Love.


Now peep, boe peep, mine eyess, to see your blisse,
Phillis closed eyes atrackts you, hers to kisse:
Oh may I now perform my vow, loves joy t'immpart,
Assay the while how to beguile, farewell faint hart.
Taken she is, new joyes I must approve,
Phillis doth sleep, and I will kisse my Love.

Now peep, boe pee, be not oto bould my hand,
Wake not thy Phillis, feare shee doe with-stand:
Shee stirs alas, alas, alas I faint in spright,
Shee opens her eie, undhappie I, farewell delight,
Awakt shee is, new woes I must approve,
Phillis awakes, and I must leave my Love.

My choice is made, and I desire no change;
My wandering thoughts in limits now are bound.
The deserts wild wherein my wits did range
Are now made easy walks and pleasant ground.
Let him that list soothe humours that be vain,
Till vanity all mean exceeds;
Let passions still possess the idle brain,
And care consume whom folly feeds.
I rest resolved no fancy's fits can me estrange;
My choice is made, and I desire no more to change.

Change they their choice to whose delicious sense
The strangest objects are of most esteem.
Inconstant liking may find excellence
In things which being not good yet best do seem.
Let gallant bloods still crown their sports with joy,
Whom honour, wealth and pleasure fills,
Let sweet contentment never find annoy
Whie Fortune frames things to their wills.
This stirs not me, I am the same I was before;
My choice is made, and I desire to change no more.

Be my choice blamed, or be I thought unwise
To hold my choice by others not approved,
I say that to myself I fall or rise,
By fear or force I cannot be removed.
Let friends in pity doubt of my success;
Their pity gets no thanks at all;
Let foes be glad to see my hopes grow less,
I scorn the worst that wish they shall.
Still stand I firm, my heart is set and shall remain,
My choice is made, and never will I change again.

Can she disdaine can I persist to love, 
Can she be cruell, I subiected still.
Time will my truth, compassion hers aprove, 
Release the thrald, and conquer froward will. 
I love not lust, Oh, therfore let her daigne, 
To equall my desires, with like againe.

Am I not pleasing in her prouder eies,
Oh that she knew Loves power as well as I,
Wittie she is, but Loves more wittie wise,
She breathes on earth, he Raignes in heaven on high.
I love not lust, oh therefore let her daigne,
To equall my desires with like againe.

Love scornes the abiect earth his sacred fires,
Unites divided mindes dissevers none,
Contempt springs out of fleshly base desires,
Setting debate twixt love and union.
I love not lust, oh therefore let her daigne,
To equall my desires, with like againe.

Alas faire face why doth that smoothed brow: 
Those speaking eies ros'd lips, and blushing beautie. 
All in them selves confirme a scorn full vow:
To spoile my hopes of love, my love of dutie. 
The time hath bin, when I was better grast: 
I now the same, and yet that time is past. 

Is it because that thou art onely faire,
Oh no such gracefull lookes banish disdaine,
How then, to feede my passions with dispaire,
Feede on sweet love, so I be loved againe.
Well may thy publike scorne, and outward pride,
Inward affections, and best likings hide.

Breath but a gentle aire, and I shall live,
Smyle in a clowde, so shall my hopes renue,
One kind regard, and second seing give,
One rising Morne, and my blacke woes subdue.
If not, yet looke upon the friendly Sunne,
That by his beames, my beames to thine may runne.

Whither so fast? see how the kindly flowers
Perfume the air, and all to make thee stay:
The climbing wood-bine, clipping all these bowers,
Clips thee likewise for fear thou pass away;
Fortune our friend, our foe will not gainsay.
Stay but awhile, Phœbe no tell-tale is;
She her Endymion, I’ll my Phœbe kiss.

Fear not, the ground seeks but to kiss thy feet;
Hark, hark, how Philomela sweetly sings!
Whilst water-wanton fishes as they meet
Strike crotchet time amidst these crystal springs,
And Zephyrus amongst the leaves sweet murmur rings.
Stay but awhile, Phœbe no tell-tale is;
She her Endymion, I’ll my Phœbe kiss.

See how the helitrope, herb of the sun,
Though he himself long since be gone to bed,
Is not of force thine eye’s bright beams to shun,
But with their warmth his goldy leaves unspread,
And on my knee invites thee rest thy head.
Stay but awhile, Phœbe no tell-tale is;
She her Endymion, I’ll my Phœbe kiss.

Rest sweet Nimphs let goulden sleepe,
Charme your star brighter eies,
Whiles my Lute the watch doth keep
With pleasing simpathies,
Lulla lullaby, Lulla lullaby,
Sleepe sweetly, sleepe sweetly, 
let nothing affright ye,
In calme contentments lie.

Dreame faire virgins of delight
And blest Elizian groves:
Whiles the wandring shades of night
Resemble your true loves:
Lulla lullaby, Lulla lullaby,
Your kisses, your blisses 
send them by your wishes,
Although they be not nigh.

Thus deare damzelle I do give
Good night and so am gone:
With your hartes desires long live,
Still joy, and never mone.
Lulla lullaby, Lulla lullaby,
Hath pleased you and easd you,
& sweet slumber sezd you,
And now to bed I hie.

Aye mee, she frownes, my Mistresse is offended, 
Oh pardon deare, my misse shall be amended: 
My fault from love proceeded, it merits grace the rather, 
If I no danger dreaded, it was to win your favour. 
Then cleere those clouds, then smile on mee, and let us bee good friends. 
Come  walke, come talke, come kisse, come see, how soone our quarrell ends. 

Why low'rs my love, and blots so sweet a beautie,
Oh be apeasd with vowes, with faith and duetie:
Give over to be cruell, sith kindnesse seemes you better,
You have but changd a Juell, and love is not your detter.
Then welcome mirth, and banish mone, shew pittie on your lover,
Come play, come sport, the thing thats gon no sorrow can recover.

Still are you angry, and is there no relenting?
Oh wiegh my woes, be mov'd with my lamenting:
Alas my hart is grieved, myne inward soule doth sorrow,
Unles I be releevd, I dye before to morrow.
The coast is cleard, her countnance cheard, I am againe in grace,
Then farewell feare, then come my deare, lets dallie and embrace.