Women ben full of Ragerie, Yet swinken not sans secresie. Thilke Moral shall ye understond, From Schoole—boy’s Tale of fayre… Which to the Fennes hath him beta…
'Tis hard to say, if greater want… Appear in writing or in judging il… But, of the two, less dang’rous is… To tire our patience, than mislead… Some few in that, but numbers err…
The Mighty Mother, and her son wh… The Smithfield muses to the ear o… I sing. Say you, her instruments… Called to this work by Dulness, J… You by whose care, in vain decried…
Of all the causes which conspire t… Man’s erring judgment, and misguid… What the weak head with strongest… Is pride, the never—failing vice o… Whatever Nature has in worth deni…
True ease in writing comes from ar… As those move easiest who have lea… 'Tis not enough no harshness gives… The sound must seem an echo to the… Soft is the strain when Zephyr ge…
Fain would my Muse the flow’ry Tr… And humble glories of the youthful… Where opening Roses breathing swe… And soft Carnations show’r their… Where Lilies smile in virgin robe…
So when Curll’s Stomach the stron… (Infus’d in Vengenance of insulte… Th’ Avenger sees, with a delighte… His long Jaws open, and his Colou… And while his Guts the keen Emeti…
Dear, damn’d distracting town, far… Thy fools no more I’ll tease: This year in peace, ye critics, dw… Ye harlots, sleep at ease! Soft B—and rough C—s adieu,
When wise Ulysses, from his nativ… Long kept by wars, and long by tem… Arrived at last, poor, old, disgui… To all his friends, and ev’n his… Changed as he was, with age, and t…
To one fair lady out of Court, And two fair ladies in, Who think the Turk and Pope a spo… And wit and love no sin! Come, these soft lines, with nothi…
Parson, these things in thy posses… Are better than the Bishop’s bles… A Wife that makes conserves; a St… That carries double when there’s n… October store, and best Virginia,
But anxious cares the pensive nymp… And secret passions labour’d in he… Not youthful kings in battle seiz’… Not scornful virgins who their cha… Not ardent lovers robb’d of all th…
Pallas grew vapourish once, and od… She would not do the least right t… Either for goddess, or for god, Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor… Jove frown’d, and, ‘Use,’ he crie…
High on a gorgeous seat, that far… Henley’s gilt tub, or Flecknoe’s… Or that where on her Curlls the p… All—bounteous, fragrant grains and… Great Cibber sate: the proud Parn…
You know where you did despise (Tother day) my little Eyes, Little Legs, and little Thighs, And some things, of little Size, You know where.