Come again, sweet love doth now invite

Flow my teares (Lacrimæ)

Lady, if you so spite me

In darkness let me dwell

Melancholy Galliard

Say love if ever thou didst find

The First Booke of Songes: His golden locks time hath to silver turned

If my complaints could passions move

Time stands still

Can she excuse my wrongs? (First Booke of Songes, 1597)

Fortune my foe

I saw my Lady weepe

Wilt thou unkind thus reave me?

Stay time awhile thy flying

Me, me, and none but me

Sorrow, stay

Fine knacks for ladies

When Phoebus first did Daphne love

Think'st thou then by thy feigning?

Galliards by Mary, Queen of Scots

Now, O now, I needs must part

Come heavy sleep