| If I hope, I pine; if I feare, I faint and die |
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| Most sweet and pleasing are thy wayes, O God |
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| What is it that all men possesse, among themselves conversing? |
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| Unlesse there were consent twixt hell and heaven |
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| Loe, when backe mine eye |
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| Fire, fire, fire, fire! |
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| If she forsake me, I must die |
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| Sing a song of joy |
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| To his sweet Lute Apollo sung the motions of the Spheares |
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| Kinde in unkindnesse, when will you relent |
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