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The first set of English Madrigals to 3. 4. 5. and 6. voices

Wilbye, John (1574-1638)

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Of 3. voc.
 I. 
[I. Fly Loue aloft, to heauen and looke out Fortune]
 II. 
[II. Away, Away; Away, away thou shalt not loue mee.]
 III. 
[III. Ay mee, Can euery rumor, Thus start my Ladies humor?]
 IIII. 
[IIII. Weepe O mine eies, cease not.]
 V. 
[V. Deere pittie how? ah how?]
 VI. 
[VI. Yee restles thoughts, that harbour discontent]
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Of 4. voc.
 VII. 
[VII. The first part. What needeth all this trauayle and turmoyling]
 VIII. 
[VIII. The second part. O Fooles, can you not see a traffick neerer]
 IX. 
[IX. Alas, what hope of speeding, wher hope beguild lies bleeding]
 X. 
[X. Lady, when I behold, the Roses sprouting]
 XI. 
[XI. Thus saith my Cloris bright]
 XII. 
[XII. Adew, Adew, Adew sweet Amarillis]
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Of 5. voc.
 XIII. 
[XIII. Dye haplesse man]
 XIIII. 
[XIIII. The first part. I Fall, I fall, O stay mee]
 XV. 
[XV. The second part. And though my loue abounding]
 XVI. 
[XVI. The first part. I Allwaies beg]
 XVII. 
[XVII. The second part. Thus Loue commaunds]
 XVIII. 
[XVIII. Lady, your words doe spight mee]
 XIX. 
[XIX. Alas, what a wretched life is this]
 XX. 
[XX. Vnkinde, O stay thy flying]
 XXI. 
[XXI. I Soung sometimes my thoughts and fancies pleasure]
 XXII. 
[XXII. Flora gaue me fayrest flowers]
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Of 6. voc.
 XXIII. 
[XXIII. Sweet Loue: If thou wilt gaine a Monarches glory]
 XXV. 
[XXV. When shall my wretched life giue place to death?]
 XXVI. 
[XXVI. The first part. Of ioyes, & pleasing paines]
 XXVII. 
[XXVII. The second part. My throte is sore, my voice is horse with skriking]
 XXVIII. 
[XXVIII. Cruell behold, my heauie ending]
 XXIX. 
[XXIX. Thou art but yong thou sai'st]
 XXX. 
[XXX. Why dost thou shoot]

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[XXVII. The second part. My throte is sore, my voice is horse with skriking]

My throte is sore, my voice is horse with skriking:
My rests, are sighes, Deep from the hart root fetched:
My song runs all on sharps, & with oft striking,
time on my brest, I shrink with hands out stretched:
Thus still and still I sing, and neare am linning:
For still the close, points to my first beginning.
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