I've been looking at madrigals for a concert later this year. Here are the words from two linked ones by John Wilbye, from 1609.
I live, and yet me thinks I do not breathe;
I thirst, and drink, I drink, and thirst again;
I sleep and yet I dream I am awake;
I hope for that I have; I have and want;
I sing and sigh; I love and hate at once.
O tell me, restless soul, what uncouth jar
Doth cause such want in store, in peace such war?
And the response:
There is a jewel which no Indian mines
Can buy, no chemic art can counterfeit;
It makes men rich in greatest poverty;
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold,
The homely whistle to sweet music’s strain:
Seldom it come, to few from heaven sent,
That much in little, all in naught CONTENT.
#poetry #madrigals