Airs to sing and play to the Lute and Bass-viol

Sinke downe proude thoughts, your mounting hopes must now descend,
Come griefe and care, hence ioyes your triumph now must end,
Heauens now will smile no more my light is shaded,
I pine without redresse, my life, my spirits like flowers are faded.

O time conceale my woe, in mine owne teares drowne my distresse,
Griefes none should know, when none their anguish can redresse,
Pale Death hath pierst my blood, and forth it streameth,
I sleepe, and in my trance, my head, my heart of sorrow dreameth.

Some can flatter, some can faine,
Simple trueth shall pleade for mee,
Let not beautie trueth disdaine,
Trueth is euen as faire as shee.
 
But since Paires must equall proue,
Let my strength her youth oppose,
Loue her beautie, faith her loue,
On eu'n termes so may we close.
 
Corke or Leade, in equall waight,
Both one iust proportion yeeld,
So may breadth be pays'd with height,
Steepest mount with plainest field.
 
Vertues haue not all one kind,
Yet all vertues merits bee :
Diuers vertues are combind,
Diff'ring so Deserts agree.
 
Let then loue and beautie meete,
Making one diuine concent,
Constant as the sounds, and sweete,
That enchant the firmament.

Sweete restraine these showers of kindnesse,
From distrust proceeding,
Nurse not wrong conceiued blindnesse,
By too much sigh breeding.
Loue by error seemes astray,
But dies if once suspected,
Women must beleeue when they,
Most by men are neglected.
 
Some, forg'd flatteries onely venture,
Yet returne true fauours,
Iust affection like a Center,
Once fixt neuer wauers :
Easily as the day from night,
May womens eyes discouer,
If they frame their minds aright,
From the false the true louer.

If streames of teares,
Could lessen extreame griefe,
Or cause a minutes truce to woe,
If deepest sighes,
Sad plants might yeeld reliefe,
These sorrowes to forgoe,
Myne eyes, my heart,
My tongue should neare refraine to weepe,
To sigh and to complaine,
But sorrowe such impression left,
Of light of speech, it mee berest,
Onely to sigh is left to mee,
In this my greatest miserie.

Sweete sweete let me goe,
What do you meane to vexe mee so,
Cease, cease, your Pleading force,
Doe you thinke thus, to extort remorce,
Now, now, no more, alas you ouer beare me,
And I would crie, but some would heare I feare mee.

He that hath no mistresse,
Must not weare a fauor,
He that wooes a mistris,
Must serue before he haue her,
He that hath no bedfellow,
Must lie alone,
And he that hath no Lady,
Must be content with Ione,
And so must I,
For why alas my loue and I am parted,
False Cupid I will haue thee whipt,
And haue thy mother carted.

Sweete Cupid, ripen her desire,
Thy ioyfull haruest may begin,
If age approch a little nyer,
Twill be too late too get it in.
 
Cold Winter stormes lay standing Corne,
Which once too ripe will neuer rise,
And louers wish themselues vnborne,
When all their ioyes lie in their eyes.
 
Then sweete let vs imbrace and kisse,
Shall beautie shale vpon the ground,
If age bereaue vs of this blisse,
Then will no more such sport be found.

Vaine is all this worlds contention,
Fortunes fraile, and hopes deceiuing,
Chance layes ambush of preuention,
Our atempts of end bereuing,
Future thing are plast
Beyond our weake conceiuing
Minds in euery age new thoughts engender
Till all to fate wee render.

Beautie sate bathing by a spring,
Where fairest shades did hide her,
The windes blewe calme, the Birds did sing,
The coole streames ranne beside her.
My wanton thoughts intis't mine eye
To see what was forbidden,
But better memorie said fie,
So vaine desire was chidden.
 
Into a slumber then I fell,
But fond imagination
Seem'd to see, but could not tell,
Her feature or her fashion.
But euen as babes in dreames doe smile,
And sometime fall a weeping :
So I awakt as wise the while,
As when I fell asleeping.

Now would chwore hong'd, zis but thou most ma wrong,
Gods bors I crie God mercy to zweare,
Hast not my Rings and things, and geare with vaith and troth,
Among and wout vorzake ma now, nay masse ware that, vor if thou doo,
Chil take a knife and honge my zelfe vor one of thow,
Yea I woll, so I woll, that I woll, I vaith la.

Hadds voote zweete zis what aild tha woo ma now,
I cham as like to zarue thy turne,
As yer I wos zince chos I borne, and sha not I haue thow,
Lets zee who dare I chould but zee huds lid I zweare,
Chill take a zweard and make a yend of I or hee,
Yea I would, so I would, that I would, I vaith la.

Ha not I bought my Kerzie wedding briche,
Hudds hate cham angrie thou makes ma vret,
And is not my bond redie zet, woold zaue ma zucha twich,
Chill breake his brow, I vaith, I chill that shall loue thou,
Then take a rop and drown thy zelf vor mere good will,
Yea I would, so I would, that I would, I vaith la.

Thinke you to seduce me so with words that haue no meaning,
Parets can learne so to speake our voice by peeces gleaning,
Nurses teach their children so about the time of weaning.
 
Learne to speake first, then to woe, to woeing much pertaineth,
He that hath not Art to hide, soone falters when he faineth,
And as one that wants his wits, he smiles when he complaineth.
 
If with wit we be deceiued, our fals may be excused,
Seeming good with flatterie grac't, is but of few refused,
But of all accurst are they that are by fooles abused.

Shall a frowne or angrie eye,
Shall a word vnfitly placed ?
Shall a shadow make me flie,
As I were with Tygers chaced ?
Loue must not be so disgraced.

Shall I woe her in dispight ?
Shall I turne her from her flying ?
Shall I tempt her with delight,
Shall I laugh out her denying ?
Noe, beware of louers crying.
 
Shall I then with patient mind,
Still attend her wayward pleasure,
Time will make her proue more kind,
Let her coynesse then take leasure,
Paines are worthy such a treasure.