John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
Alas! what hope of speeding
Where hope beguil'd lies bleeding?
She bade come, when she spy'd me
And, when I came, she fly'd me
Then, when I was beguilèd
She at my sighing smilèd
But if you take such pleasure
Of hope and joy, my treasure
By deceit to bereave me
Love me, and so deceive me
Alas, what hope of speeding was written by John Wilbye.