My head is obviously in a strange state (well, yes, I know it is, I'm morphined out to queasiness), but I've just been editing up and sequencing Weepe forth your Teares by John Ward (1571 - 1638) and honestly I can't imagine being able to perform it without giggling. Even when not stoned out of my tree. Listening to it straightfaced is hard enough.
Weepe forth your teares, and doe lament; he's dead, who living was of all the world belovèd. Let dolorous lamenting still be spread thorough all the Earth, that all harts may be movèd to sigh and plaine since Death hath slaine Prince Henery. Oh, had he lived, our hopes had still encreasèd; but he is dead, and all our joyes deceasèd. (spellings as given)
I mean, if I'd been Prince Henry (and I get a Minnie Bannister moment every time I hear that "Henery" :>) I'd have blushed scarlet in my coffin at all that sickly adulation - and the music lives down to the words.
nauseated