#EnglishWriters
To John I owed great obligation, But John unhappily thought fit To publish it to all the nation: Sure John and I are more than qui…
Since, Moggy, I mun bid adieu, How can I help despairing? Let cruel Fate us still pursue, There’s nought more worth my carin… ’Twas she alone could calm my soul
In one great now, superior to an age, The full extremes of nature’s forc… How heavenly virtue can exalt, or… Infernal how degrade the human min…
Since hired for life, thy servile… Successive conquests and a gloriou… Must of a man immortal vainly boas… And bring him laurels whatsoe’er t… What turn wilt thou employ, what c…
Nobles and Heralds, by your leave… Here lie the bones of Matthew Pri… A son of Adam and Eve: Let Bourbon or Nassau go higher.
Dum studeo fungi fallentis munere… Adfectoque viam sedibus Elysiis Arctoa florens sophia, Samiisque… Discipulis, animas morte carere ca… Has ego corporibus profugas ad sid…
Solomon, again seeking happiness, inquires if wealth and greatness can produce it: begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings; the luxury of music and feasting; and proceeds ...
When Nell, given o’er by the doct… And John at the chimney stood dec… ’Tis in vain said the woman to mak… For to our long home we must all o… True, Nell, replied John; but wha…
Alexis shun’d his Fellow Swains, Their rural Sports, and jocund St… (Heav’n guard us all from Cupid’s… He lost his Crook, He left his F… And wand’ring thro’ the lonely Ro…
Beneath a Myrtle’s verdant Shade As Cloe half asleep was laid, Cupid perch’d lightly on Her Brea… And in That Heav’n desir’d to res… Over her Paps his Wings He sprea…
Whilst I am scorch’d with hot des… In vain cold Friendship you retur… Your drops of pity on my fire, Alas! but make it fiercer burn. Ah! would you have the flame suppr…
Dear Chloe, how blubber’d is that… Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hai… Prythee quit this caprice; and (as… Let us e’en talk a little like fol… How canst thou presume, thou hast…
Heavy, O Lord, on my thy judgemen… Accursed I am while God rejects m… O’erwhelm’d in darkness and despai… And every place is hell, for God… O Lord, arise, and let thy beams…
Let 'em Censure: what care I? The Herd of Criticks I defie. Let the Wretches know, I write Regardless of their Grace, or Spi… No, no: the Fair, the Gay, the Y…
Sly Merry Andrew, the last South… (At Bartholomew he did not much a… So peevish was the dict of the Ma… At Southwark, therefore, as his t… To please our masters, and his fri…