Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this security, It is the common moth
THE faery beam upon you, The stars to glister on you; A moon of light In the noon of night, Till the fire-drake hath o’ergone…
Tonight, grave sir, both my poor h… Do equally desire your company; Not that we think us worthy such a… But that your worth will dignify o… With those that come, whose grace…
In the ember days of my last free… here I lie, outside myself, watchi… the gross body eating a poor curry… satisfied at what I have done, sca… I have to do in my last free winte…
Epitaphs i WOULDST thou hear what Man can… In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much Beauty as could die:
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…
Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I’ll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth…
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.
Come leave the loathéd stage, And the more loathsome age, Where pride and impudence in facti… Usurp the chair of wit, Indicting and arraigning, every da…
Not to know vice at all, and keep… Is virtue and not fate: Next to that virtue, is to know vi… And her black spite expel. Which to effect (since no breast i…
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on… Am I thus ample to thy book and f… While I confess thy writings to b… As neither man nor muse can praise… 'Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.…
Some act of Love’s bound to reherse, I thought to bind him, in my verse… Which when he felt, Away (quoth h…
That poets are far rarer births th… Your noblest father proved; like w… Or then, or since, about our Muse… Came not that soul exhausted so th… Hence was it that the destinies de…
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…
Kisse mee, Sweet: The wary lover Can your favours keepe, and cover, When the common courting jay All your bounties will betray. Kisse againe: no creature comes.