| | Front Matter |
| I. | Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show |
| II. | Not at the first sight, nor with a dribbed shot |
| III. | Let dainty wits cry on the Sisters nine |
| IV. | Virtue! alas, now let me take some rest |
| V. | It is most true—that eyes are formed to serve |
| VI. | Some lovers speak, when they their Muses entertain |
| VII. | When Nature made her chief work—Stella’s eyes |
| VIII. | Love born in Greece, of late fled from his native place |
| IX. | Queen Virtue’s Court—which some call Stella’s face |
| X. | Reason! in faith, thou art well served! that still |
| XI. | In Truth, O Love! with what a boyish kind |
| XII. | Cupid! because thou shin’st in Stella’s eyes |
| XIII. | Phoebus was judge between Jove, Mars and Love |
| XIV. | Alas! have I not pain enough? my friend! |
| XV. | You that do search for every purling spring |
| XVI. | In nature apt to like, when I did see |
| XVII. | His mother dear, Cupid offended late |
| XVIII. | With what sharp checks I in myself am shent |
| XIX. | In Cupid’s bow, how are my heart-strings bent! |
| XX. | Fly! fly! my friends; I have my death wound, fly! |
| XXI. | Our words, my friend! (right healthful caustics!) blame |
| XXII. | In highest way of heaven, the sun did ride |
| XXIII. | The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness |
| XXIV. | Rich fools there be, whose base and filthy heart |
| XXV. | The wisest scholar of the wight most wise |
| XXVI. | Though dusty wits dare scorn astrology |
| XXVII. | Because I oft in dark abstracted guise |
| XXVIII. | You that with allegory’s curious frame |
| XXIX. | Like some weak lords—neighboured by mighty kings |
| XXX. | Whether the Turkish new moon minded be |
| XXXI. | With how sad steps, O Moon! thou climb’st the skies! |
| XXXII. | Morpheus! the lively son of deadly Sleep |
| XXXIII. | I Might—unhappy word, O me!—I might |
| XXXIV. | Come, let me write. “And to what end?” To ease |
| XXXV. | What may words say, or what may words not say |
| XXXVI. | Stella! whence doth this new assault arise? |
| XXXVII. | My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell |
| XXXVIII. | This night, while sleep begins with heavy wings |
| XXXIX. | Come Sleep! O Sleep! the certain knot of peace! |
| XL. | As good to write, as for to lie and groan |
| XLI. | Having this day, my horse, my hand, my lance |
| XLII. | O Eyes! which do the spheres of beauty move |
| XLIII. | Fair eyes! sweet lips! dear heart! that foolish I |
| XLIV. | My words, I know, do well set forth my mind |
| XLV. | Stella oft sees the very face of woe |
| XLVI. | I curst thee oft, I pity now thy case |
| XLVII. | What! have I thus betrayed my liberty? |
| XLVIII. | Soul’s joy! bend not those morning stars from me! |
| XLIX. | I, on my horse; and Love on me, doth try |
| L. | Stella! the fulness of my thoughts of thee |
| LI. | Pardon mine ears! both I and they do pray |
| LII. | A strife is grown between Virtue and Love |
| LIII. | In martial sports I had my cunning tried |
| LIV. | Because I breathe not love to every one |
| LV. | Muses! I oft invoked your holy aid |
| LVI. | Fie! school of Patience, fie! your lesson is |
| LVII. | Woe, having made with many fights his own |
| LVIII. | Doubt there hath been—when, with his golden chain |
| LIX. | Dear! why make you more of a dog, than me? |
| LX. | When my good angel guides me to the place |
| LXI. | Oft with true sighs, oft with uncallèd tears |
| LXII. | Late tired with woe, even ready for to pine |
| LXIII. | O grammar rules! O now your virtues show! |
| LXIV. | No more! my Dear! no more these counsels try! |
| LXV. | Love! by sure proof I may call thee unkind |
| LXVI. | And do I see some cause a hope to feed? |
| LXVII. | Hope! art thou true, or dost thou flatter me? |
| LXVIII. | Stella! the only planet of my light! |
| LXIX. | O joy! too high for my low style to show |
| LXX. | My Muse may well grudge at my heavenly joy |
| LXXI. | Who will in fairest book of Nature know |
| LXXII. | Desire! though thou my old companion art |
| LXXIII. | Love still a boy, and oft a wanton is |
| LXXIV. | I never drank of Aganippe’s well |
| LXXV. | Of all the Kings that ever here did reign |
| LXXVI. | She comes! and straight therewith her shining twins do move |
| LXXVII. | Those looks! whose beams be joy, whose motion is delight |
| LXXVIII. | O how the pleasant airs of true love be |
| LXXIX. | Sweet kiss! thy sweets I fain would sweetly endite |
| LXXX. | Sweet swelling lip! well mayest thou swell in pride |
| LXXXI. | O kiss! which dost those ruddy gems impart |
| LXXXII. | Nymph of the garden! where all beauties be |
| LXXXIII. | Good brother Philip! I have born you long |
| LXXXIV. | Highway! since you my chief Parnassus be |
| LXXXV. | I see the house! My heart! thyself contain! |
| LXXXVI. | Alas! whence came this change of looks? If I |
| LXXXVII. | When I was forced from Stella ever dear |
| LXXXVIII. | Out! traitor Absence! Darest thou counsel me |
| LXXXIX. | Now that of absence the most irksome night |
| XC. | Stella! think not that I by verse seek fame |
| XCI. | Stella! while now, by honour’s cruel might |
| XCII. | Be your words made, good Sir! of Indian ware |
| XCIII. | O fate! O fault! O curse! child of my bliss! |
| XCIV. | Grief! find the words! For thou hast made my brain |
| XCV. | Yet Sighs! dear Sighs! indeed true friends you are |
| XCVI. | Thought! with good cause thou likest so well the night! |
| XCVII. | Dian, that fain would cheer her friend the Night |
| XCVIII. | Ah, bed! the field where joy’s peace some do see |
| XCIX. | When far-spent night persuades each mortal eye |
| C. | O Tears! no tears but rain from beauty’s skies |
| CI. | Stella is sick, and in that sick bed lies |
| CII. | Where be those roses gone, which sweetened so our eyes? |
| CIII. | O happy Thames! that didst my Stella bare |
| CIV. | Envious wits! what hath been mine offence |
| CV. | Unhappy sight! And hath she vanished by? |
| CVI. | O absent presence! Stella is not here! |
| CVII. | Stella! since thou so right a Princess art |
| CVIII. | When Sorrow, using mine own fire’s might |
| |
| Other Songs of Variable Verse |
| | First: Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth |
| | Second: Have I caught my heavenly jewel |
| | Third: If Orpheus’ voice had force to breathe such music’s love |
| | Fourth: Only joy! now here you are |
| | Fifth: While favour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought |
| | Sixth: O you that hear this voice! |
| | Seventh: Whose senses in so evil consort their stepdame Nature lays |
| | Eighth: In a grove most rich of shade |
| | Ninth: Go my flock! go get you hence! |
| | Tenth: O dear life! when shall it be |
| | Eleventh: Who is it that this dark night |
