Sigh not, sigh not Ladye mine; 
Beauty's rose (and that is thine) 
Soon will die 
If you sigh,
Doe not sigh then Ladye mine. 
 Ee'n thy lillyes, all so fair, 
Soon will fade when touch'd by care; 
Care you'll see, 
(Like the Bee)
Comes to take what's sweete from Thee. 
Weep not, weep not Ladye mine; 
Youth is fleete (and youth is thine) 
Teares will chase, 
Grief erase, 
Youthes gay roses from thy face. 
Thoe I love the lillye well, 
Let her on thy bosom dwell, 
Cheekes look best, 
When they're drest 
In the roses blushing vest.