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Why have ye cast it forth as nothing worth, Without a tomb or grave? About the maypole new, with glee and merriment, While as the bagpipe tooted it, Thyrsis and Chloris fine together footed it: And to the joyous instrument Still they went to and fro, and finely flaunted it, And then both met again and thus they chaunted it.

Fa la!

"Come Away, Sweet Love" by Thomas Greaves, Chant Claire Chamber Choir

Adieu , sweet Amaryllis! For since to part your will is, O heavy, heavy tiding! Here is for me no biding. Yet once again, ere that I part with you, Adieu, sweet Amaryllis; sweet, adieu! Arise , my thoughts, and mount you with the sun, Call all the winds to make you speedy wings, And to my fairest Maya see you run And weep your last while wantonly she sings; Then if you cannot move her heart to pity, Let Oh, alas, ay me be all your ditty. Awake , awake! Seek heaven early, seek it late; True Faith finds still an open gate.

Get up, get up, thou leaden man! One minute bounds thy bane or bliss; Then watch and labour while time is. Awake , sweet Love! Awake, awake from heavy sleep Which all thy thoughts in silence keep! Name ye some galante to her, Why straight forsooth I woo her.

Then alas, Love, be wary, For women be contrary. Ay me, my mistress scorns my love; I fear she will most cruel prove. I weep, I sigh, I grieve, I groan; Yet she regardeth not my moan. Then, Love, adieu! Behold a wonder here! Which many hundred year Hath not beheld the light. Love now no more will weep For them that laugh the while! Nor wake for them that sleep, Nor sigh for them that smile! A fairer sight, none can be! Fair with garlands all addrest, Was never Nymph more fairly blest!

Came to this fountain near, With such a smiling cheer! Such a face, Such a grace! Happy, happy eyes, that see Such a heavenly sight as She! Sing, sweet air! Welcome, Fair!

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By the moon we sport and play, With the night begins our day: As we frisk the dew doth fall; Trip it, little urchins all! Lightly as the little bee, Two by two, and three by three; And about, about go we. Round about in a fair ring-a, Thus we dance and thus we sing-a; Trip and go, to and fro, Over this green-a; All about, in and out, Over this green-a.

Come Again (Dowland)

Canst thou love and lie alone? Rise, rise, rise! Morning-star doth now appear, Wind is hushed and sky is clear; Come, come away, come, come away! Canst thou love and burn out day? Daylight do not burn out; Bells do ring [and] birds do sing, Only I that mourn out. Change thy mind since she doth change, Let not fancy still abuse thee, Thy untruth cannot seem strange When her falsehood doth excuse thee: Love is dead and thou art free, She doth live but dead to thee. Whilst she loved thee best a while, See how she hath still delayed thee: Using shows for to beguile, Those vain hopes that have deceived thee: Now thou seest, although too late, Love loves truth which women hate.

Christmas Song - Away in a Manger Lyrics

She was false, bid her adieu, She was best but yet untrue. Love, farewell, more dear to me Than my life, which thou preservest. Life, all joys are gone from thee; Others have what thou deservest. Oh my death doth spring from hence, I must die for her offence. Die, but yet before thou die, Make her know what she hath gotten, She in whom my hopes did lie Now is changed, I quite forgotten. Come away! The golden morning breaks; All the earth, all the air, Of love and pleasure speaks!

Teach thine arms then to embrace, And sweet rosy lips to kiss, And mix our souls in mutual bliss. The golden morning wastes While the sun from his sphere His fiery arrows casts: Making all the shadows fly, Playing, staying in the grove To entertain the stealth of love.

Various authors

Let me not in languor pine! Love loves no delay; thy sight The more enjoyed, the more divine! O come, and take from me The pain of being deprived of thee! Thou all sweetness dost enclose, Like a little world of bliss; Beauty guards thy looks, the rose In them pure and eternal is: Come, then, and make thy flight As swift to me as heavenly light!

Come , Phyllis, come into these bowers: Here shelter is from sharpest showers, Cool gales of wind breathe in these shades, Danger none this place invades; Here sit and note the chirping birds Pleading my love in silent words. Come , shepherd swains, that wont to hear me sing, Now sigh and groan!

John Dowland - Awake sweet love thou art returned - lyrics

Break all your pipes that wont to sound With pleasant cheer, And cast yourselves upon the ground To wail my Dear! Come, shepherd swains, come, nymphs, and all a-row To help me cry: Dead is my Love, and, seeing She is so, Lo, now I die! Come , you pretty false-eyed wanton, Leave your crafty smiling!

Sooner may you count the stars And number hail down-pouring, Tell the osiers of the Thames, Or Goodwin sands devouring, [Pg 18] Than the thick-showered kisses here Which now thy tired lips must bear. Could my heart more tongues employ Than it harbours thoughts of grief, It is now so far from joy That it scarce could ask relief: Truest hearts by deeds unkind To despair are most inclined.

Happy minds that can redeem Their engagements how they please, That no joys or hopes esteem Half so precious as their ease: Wisdom should prepare men so, As if they did all foreknow. Yet no art or caution can Grown affections easily change; Use is such a lord of man That he brooks worst what is strange: Better never to be blest Than to lose all at the best. None but fairies here are seen. Down and sleep, Wake and weep, Pinch him black, and pinch him blue, That seeks to steal a lover true!

When you come to hear us sing, Or to tread our fairy ring, Pinch him black, and pinch him blue! O thus our nails shall handle you! Love forbid that through dissembling I should thrive, Or, in praising you, myself of truth deprive! Do you not know how Love lost first his seeing? Draw on, sweet Night, best friend unto those cares That do arise from painful melancholy; [Pg 22] My life so ill through want of comfort fares, That unto thee I consecrate it wholly.

Sweet Night, draw on; my griefs, when they be told To shades and darkness, find some ease from paining; And while thou all in silence dost enfold, I then shall have best time for my complaining. Dames of yore contended more in goodness to exceed, Than in pride to be envied for that which least they need. Little lawn then serve[d] the Pawn, if Pawn at all there were; Homespun thread and household bread then held out all the year.

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Aid from heaven must make all even, things are so out of frame; For let man strive all he can, he needs must please his dame. Happy man, content that gives and what he gives enjoys!