Camden, most reverend head, to who… Â All that I am in arts, all tha… (How nothing’s that!), to whom my… Â The great renown and name where… Than thee the age sees not that th…
From 'Cynthia’s Revels’ Queen and huntress, chaste and fai… Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair,
O, that joy so soon should waste! Or so sweet a bliss As a kiss Might not for ever last! So sugared, so melting, so soft, s…
Queen and huntress, chaste and fai… Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light,
A farewell for a Gentlewoman, ver… False world, good-night, since tho… That houre upon my morne of age, Hence-forth I quit thee from my t… My part is ended on thy stage.
The decorously informative church Guide to Sex suggested that any u… could well be controlled by playin… and the game provided also ‘many harmless opportunities for healthy
It is usual for people in this country (out of pretended respect but rather from an impertinent cur… to desire to see
Fine madam Would-Be, wherefore sh… That love to make so well, a child… The world reputes you barren: but… Your 'pothecary, and his drug says… Is it the pain affrights? That’s…
Gut eats all day and lechers all t… So all his meat he tasteth over tw… And, striving so to double his del… He makes himself a thoroughfare of… Thus in his belly can he change a…
I now think Love is rather deaf t… For else it could not be That she, Whom I adore so much, should so s… And cast my love behind.
Would you believe, when you this m… That his whole body should speak… That so much scarf of France, and… And shoe, and tie, and garter shou… And land on one whose face durst n…
A SONG APOLOGETIC Men, if you love us, play no more The fools or tyrants with your fri… To make us still sing o’er and o’e… Our own false praises, for your en…
Good, and great God, can I not th… But it must, straight, my melancho… Is it interpreted in mee disease, That, laden with my sinnes. I see… O, be thou witnesse, that the rein…
Who says that Giles and Joan at d… Â Th’ observing neighbors no such… Indeed, poor Giles repents he mar… Â But that his Joan doth too. An… By his free will be in Joan’s com…
Lucy, you brightness of our sphere… Life of the Muses’ day, their mor… If works, not th’ author’s, their… Whose poems would not wish to be y… But these, desir’d by you, the mak…