Lute Songs

Come my Celia

Like hermit poor

So so, leave off this last lamenting kisse

Fire fire

I care not for these ladies

A painted tale

Thirsis and Milla

With my love my life was nestled

I saw my lady weeping

Beauty sat bathing

Tis true, tis day

Who is it that this dark night

Can I forget what reasons force

Fair, sweet, cruell

Goe passions to the cruell faire

Not full twelve years

Whither runneth my sweet hart

Come sorrows

Aye mee, she frownes

Absence, hear thou my protestation

Come sorrow come

When Laura smiles

What then is love but mourning