Though Philomela lost her love

Thomas Morley

Though Philomela lost her love,

fresh note she warbleth yes! again;

Fa la la la.

He is a fool that lovers prove:

and leaves to sing, to live in pain.

Fa la la la

Deep Lamenting

Thomas Morley

Deep lamenting, grief, bewraying;

Poor Amintas thus sat saying:

Glut now thine eyes full

While I lie here adying;

Killed with disdain

Alas, and pity crying;

Now, mayst thou laugh full merrily;

For dead lo is the man

Dead is thy mortal enemy

O no, weep not

I cannot bide this blindness;

All too late now God wot

All too late comes this kindness

But if you would that death should

Death of life, of life should deprive me;

Weep not alas lest you revive me

Weep not lest you thereby revive me

Ah cease to bеwail me

My life now doth fail me

The Greedy Hawk

William Byrd

The greedy hawk with sudden sight of lure

Doth stoop in hope to have her wished prey;

So many men do stoop to sights unsure

And courteous speech doth keep them at the bay:

Let them beware lest friendly looks be like

The lure whereat the soaring hawk did strike

Farewell Disdainful

Thomas Morley

Farewell disdainful, since no love avails me

O sharp and bitter anguish

What discord grief assails me?

Needs I must part, alas, yet parting makes me languish

But yet it pleaseth thee

Therefore unkind, now adieu, there is no remedy

O come again, O come again return thee:

No, false Love, thy flames no more shall burn me

No, be still content thee:

When I am gone, perhaps, then wilt thou repent thee

The Nightingale

William Byrd

The nightingale so pleasant and so gay

In greenwood groves delights to make his dwelling

In fields to fly chanting his roundelay

At liberty against the cage rebelling

But my poor heart with sorrows overswelling

Through bondage vile, binding my freedom short

No pleasure takes in these his sports excelling

Nor of his song receiveth no comfort

Susanna Fair

William Byrd

Susanna fair some time assaulted was

By two old men, desiring their delight

Which lewd intent they thought to bring to pass

If not by tender love, by force and might

To whom she said, if I your suit deny

You will me falsely accuse, and make me die

And if I grant to that which you request

My chastity shall then deflowered be

Which is so dear to me, that I detest

My life, if it berefted be from me

And rather would I die of mine accord

Ten thousand times, than once offend our Lord

O God Which Art Most Merciful

William Byrd

O God which art most mercyfull

Have mercy Lord on me

According to thy mercy great

Let me releaved be

And put away my wickednesse

Which sundery waies hath beene

According to the multitude

Of thy compassions seene

Le souvenir de vous me tue

Robert Morton

Le souvenir de vous me tue,

mon seul bien, quant je ne vous voi; 

car je vous jure sur ma foy:

Sans vous ma leesse est perdue. 

Quant vous estes hors de ma veue,

je me plains et dis a par moi: 

Le souvenir de vous me tue,

mon seul bien, quant je ne vous voi.

Seulle demeure despourveue,

d'ame nul confort ne reçoi,

et si seuffre sans faire effroy 

jusques a vostre revenue.

Le souvenir de vous me tue,

mon seul bien, quant je ne vous voi;

car je vous jure sur ma foy:

Sans vous ma leesse est perdue.

Cease Sorrows Now

Thomas Weelkes

Cease sorrows now,

for you have done the deed,

lo care hath now consum'd

my carcase quite,

no hope is left

nor help can stand instead,

for doleful death

doth cut off pleasure quite,

yet whilst I hear

the knolling of the bell,

before I die,

I'll sing my faint farewell,

farewell.

O What Shall I Do?

John Wilbye

O, what shall I do, or whither shall I turn me?

Shall I make unto her eyes? O, no, they'll burn me!

Shall I seal up my eyes and speak my part?

Then in a flood of tears I drown my heart,

For tears being stopped will swell for scope,

Though they overflow love, life and hope,

By beauty's eye

I'll choose to die.

At thy feet I fall, fair creature rich in beauty,

And for pity call; O kill not love and duty.

Let thy smooth tongue fan on my sense thy breath,

to stay thine eyes from burning me to death.

But if mercy be exiled

From a thing so fair compiled,

Then patiently

By thee I'll die.

Strike It Up Tabor

Thomas Weelkes

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