|
|
Though your strangenes frets my heart.
Sweet Kate of late ranne away.
Once did I serue a cruell heart.
Will said to his Mammy, that he would
goe woe.
Harke, harke, wot you what.
My complayning is but faining.
On a time in summers season.
Farewell fond youth,if thou hadst not beene
blinde.
How should I shew my loue vnto my
loue.
O he is gone and I am here.
And is it night, are they thine eyes that
shine.
She hath an eye, aye me.
I know not what,yet that I feele is
much.
Griefe of my best loues
absenting.
If in this flesh where thou indrencht dost
lie.
O thred of life when thou art spent.
When I sit reading all alone.
Faine would I speake, but feare to giue
offence.
In Sherwood liude stout Robin Hood.
Ite Caldi sospiri.
S'amor non è, che dunque.
|
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
|
see: Th. Campion, 2.Booke, No. XVI
|