: (John Dowland) (Instrumental)
: (John Dowland) Come heavy sleepe the image of true death; And close up these my weary weeping eyes: Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath
: (John Dowland) [Extract from a letter to Sir Robert Cecil...]
of love. Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true. Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again, My trifles come as treasures from my mind,
: (Robert Johnson) Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of snow Before the soil hath
thee? Farewell! Farewell! But yet or e'er I part, O cruel, Kiss me, sweet, kiss me, Sweet, sweet my jewel. Yet be thou mindfull ever, Heat from fire, fire from
: (John Dowland) Come again! sweet love doth now invite Thy graces that refrain To do me due delight, To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die, With
: (John Dowland) In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be, The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me; The walls of marble black
: (John Dowland) Cleare or cloudie sweet as April showring, Smooth or frowning so is hir face to mee, Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring,
: (John Dowland) Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heav'n's sun doth gently waste. But my sun
(John Dowland) [Extract from a letter to Sir Robert Cecil...]