#EnglishWriters
Of thy judicious Muse’s sense, Young Hinchinbroke so very proud… That Sacharissa and Hortense She looks henceforth upon as dowdi… Yet she to one must still submit,
Forgive the muse who, in unhallow’… The saint one moment from his God… For sure whate’er you do, where’er… ’Tis all but one good work, one co… Forgive her; and entreat that God…
Frank carves very ill, yet will pa… He eats more than six, and drinks… Four pipes after dinner he constan… And seasons his whiffs with impert… Yet sighing, he says we must certa…
Nobles and Heralds, by your leave… Here lies what once was Matthew P… The son of Adam and of Eve; Can Stuart or Nassau claim higher…
When Cloe’s Picture was to Venus… Surpriz’d, the Goddess took it fo… And what, said She, does this bol… When was I Bathing thus, and Nak… Pleas’d Cupid heard, and check’d…
No - I’ll endure ten thousand dea… Ere any further I’ll comply: Oh! Sir, no man on earth that bre… Had ever yet his hand so high. Oh! take your sword and pierce my…
Hans Carvel, impotent and old, Married a lass of London mould. Handsome? Enough; extremely gay; Loved music, company, and play: High flights she had, and wit at w…
Sphinx was a monster that would ea… Whatever stranger she could get, Unless his ready wit disclosed The subtile riddle she proposed. OEdipus was resolved to go
What can I say? What Arguments c… My Truth? What Colors can descri… If it’s Excess and Fury be not kn… In what Thy Celia has already don… Thy Infant Flames, whilst yet the…
Democritus, dear droll, revisit ea… And with our follies glut thy heig… Sad Heraclitus, serious wretch, r… In louder grief our greater crimes… Between you both I unconcern’d st…
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…
Lie Philo untouch’d, on my peacea… Nor take it amiss that so little… I’ve no envy to thee, and some lov… Then why should I answer since fi… Drunk with Helicon’s waters, and…
Miss Danae, when Fair and Young (As Horace has divinely sung) Could not be kept from Jove’s Emb… By Doors of Steel, and Walls of… The Reason of the Thing is clear;
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…
Let others from the Town retire, And in the fields seek new delight… My Phillis does such joys inspire… No other objects please my sight. In her alone I find whate’er