Thomas Percy

Everye white will have its blacke,
And everye sweete its soure.

Everye white will have its blacke,
And everye sweete its soure.

He was a wight of high renowne,
And thosne but of a low degree;
Itt's pride that read more

He was a wight of high renowne,
And thosne but of a low degree;
Itt's pride that putts the countrye downe,
Man, take thine old cloake about thee.

Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrowe is in vaine,
For violets pluckt, the sweetest read more

Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrowe is in vaine,
For violets pluckt, the sweetest showers
Will ne'er make grow againe.

Shall I bid her goe? what and if I doe?
Shall I bid her goe and spare not?
read more

Shall I bid her goe? what and if I doe?
Shall I bid her goe and spare not?
Oh no, no, no, I dare not.

He that had neither beene kithe nor kin,
Might have seene a full fayre sight.
- read more

He that had neither beene kithe nor kin,
Might have seene a full fayre sight.
- Thomas Percy,