#EnglishWriters
Sadly I walk’d within the field, To see what comfort it would yield… And as I went my private way, An olive-branch before me lay; And seeing it, I made a stay,
Let’s live in haste; use pleasures… Could life return, 'twould never l…
No fault in women, to refuse The offer which they most would ch… —No fault: in women, to confess How tedious they are in their dres… —No fault in women, to lay on
Life of my life, take not so soon… But stay the time till we have bad… Thou hast both wind and tide with… As soon dispatch’d is by the night… Let us not then so rudely hencefor…
Rare is the voice itself: but whe… To th’ lute or viol, then ’tis rav…
True mirth resides not in the smil… The sweetest solace is to act no s…
God will have all, or none; serve… Down before Baal, Bel, or Belial… Either be hot, or cold: God doth… Abhorre, and spew out all Neutral…
I would to God, that mine old age… Before my last, but here a living… Some one poor almshouse, there to… Ghost—like, as in my meaner sepulc… A little piggin, and a pipkin by,
Good things, that come of course,… Than those which come by sweet con…
About the sweet bag of a bee Two Cupids fell at odds; And whose the pretty prize should… They vow’d to ask the Gods. Which Venus hearing, thither came…
In this world, the isle of dreams, While we sit by sorrow’s streams, Tears and terrors are our themes Reciting: But when once from hence we fly,
A Gyges ring they bear about them… To be, and not seen when and where… They tread on clouds, and though t… They fall like dew, and make no no… So silently they one to th’ other…
Have ye beheld (with much delight) A red rose peeping through a white… Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam
Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in paradise; For her beauty, it was such, Poets could not praise too much. Virgins come, and in a ring
Why do ye weep, sweet babes? can… Speak grief in you, Who were but born just as the modest morn Teem’d her refreshing dew?