#EnglishWriters
When I by thy faire shape did swe… And mingled with each vowe a teare… I lov’d, I lov’d thee best, I swore as I profest. For all the while you lasted warme…
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkind… That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste breast and quiet min… To warre and armes I flie. True: a new Mistresse now I chase…
See! what a clouded majesty, and e… Whose glory through their mist dot… See! what an humble bravery doth s… And griefe triumphant breaking thr… How it commands the face! so sweet…
DE SUO IN LESBIAM AMORE.… Nulla potest mulier tantum se dice… Vere, quantum a me Lesbia amata m… Nulla fides ullo fuit unquam faede… Quanta in amore suo ex parte reper…
Introth, I do my self perswade, That the wilde boy is grown a man, And all his childishnesse off laid… E’re since LUCASTA did his fir… H’ has left his apish jigs,
Forbear, thou great good husband,… A little respite from thy flood of… Thou, thine own horse and cart und… Thy spacious tent, fan thy prodigi… Down with thy double load of that…
CATUL. EP. 71. DE INCONSTANTIA FOEM… Nulli se dicit mulier mea nubere v… Quam mihi: non, si Jupiter ipse p… Dicit; sed mulier cupido quod dici…
Twas not for some calm blessing to… Thou didst thy polish’d hands in s… It were no blessing thus obtain’d; Thou rather would’st a curse have… Then let thy warm driven snow be e…
AD JUVENCIUM. CAT. EP. 49… Mellitos oculos tuos, Juvenci, Si quis me sinat usque basiare, Usque ad millia basiem trecenta; Nec unquam videat satur futurus:
A gentleman, to give us somewhat n… Hath brought up OXFORD with him… Pray be not frighted—Tho the scae… The Universities, the wit’s the t… The lines each honest Englishman…
It was Amyntor’s Grove, that Chl… For ever ecchoes, and her glories; Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdess… That ever lawnes and lambes did bl… Her breath, like to the whispering…
THOU snowy Farme with thy five… Tell thy white Mistris here was o… That call’d to pay his dayly Rent… But she agathering Flowr’s and He… And thou left voyd to rude Posses…
TIS true the beauteous Starre To which I first did bow Burnt quicker, brighter far Then that which leads me now ; Which shines with more delight:
Now Whitehall’s in the grave, And our head is our slave, The bright pearl in his close shel… Now the miter is lost, The proud Praelates, too, crost,
YEE happy floods! that now must… The sacred conduicts of her Wombe… Smooth, and transparent as your fa… When you are deafe, and windes are… II