ALL YE WHO MUSIC LOVE All ye who music love, And would its pleasures prove; Come, lads and lasses all, Obey the tuneful call; o: Come to us who cease not daily, From morn till eve to warble gaily, Fa la la la la la. APRIL IS IN MY MISTRESS' FACE April is in my Mistress' face, And July in her eyes hath place, Within her bosoT is September, But in her heart a cold December. 0 were it July all the year, Then April show'rs I would not fear, Nor blight that falleth in September, Nor frost that chills in cold December. IN THESE DELIGHTFUL PLEASANT GROVES In these delightful, pleasant groves, Let us celebrate our happy loves. Let's pipe and dance, laugh and sing; Thus, every happy living thing Revels in the cheerful Spring. THE SILVER SWAN The silver swan who, living, had no note, When death approachld, unlock'd her silent throat: Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sang her first and last, and sang no more. ' Farewell, all joys, 0 death, come close mine eyes; More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise. FINE KNACKS FOR LADIES Fine knacks for ladies, cheape choise brave and new, Good penniworths but mony cannot move, I keep a faier but for the faier to view, A beggar may bee liberall of love, Though all my wares bee trash the hart is true, The hart is true, The hart is true. Fie then, why sit bosomsing, Youth's sweet delight refusing Say, dainty nymphs, and speak, Shall we play barley-break? I GO BEFORE MY DARLING I go before my darling, Follow thou to the bower There we will together, Sweetly kiss each other, And like two wantons daily. FLOW MY TEARES Flow my teares fall from your springs, Exilde for ever, let me mourne Where nights black bird hir sad infamy sings. There let mee live forlorne, ECHO SONG Hola! What a good echo! Come, answer us: Come, Echo! approach'da-ha! Now you are laughing! Jolly good fellow! What's wanted? Come, sing to us a song now One song! A good one 0 Why? Yes, 0 Why? Then why not? Because I will not! Why not? I don't feel like singing! Then be silent! So must you! You lazy thing! I thank you! Now that's enough! Let go now! Good-bye, then, Echo! You may rest now! Silence! Do be silent! Hush, now! NOW IS THE MONTH OF MAYING Now is the month of Maying, When merry lads are playing, Each with his bonny lass A-dancing on the grass. The Spring, clad all in gladness, Doth laugh at Winter's sadness, And to the bagpipes' sound The nymphs tread out their ground.