#RhymedStanza
When men a dangerous disease did '… Of old, they gave a cock to Aescu… Let me give two, that doubly am go… From my disease’s danger, and from…
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on… Am I thus ample to thy book and f… While I confess thy writings to b… As neither man nor muse can praise… 'Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.…
GENIUS. Time, Fate, and Fortune have at l… To give our Age the day so much d… What all the minutes, houres, week… That hang in file upon these silve…
I sing the birth was born to-night The author both of life and light; The angels so did sound it. And like the ravished shepherds sa… Who saw the light, and were afraid…
That neither fame nor love might w… To greatness, Cary, I sing that a… Whose house, if it no other honor… In only thee might be both great a… Who, to upbraid the sloth of this…
The sickness hot, a master quit, f… His house in town, and left one se… Ease him corrupted, and gave means… A Cheater, and his punk; who now… Leaving their narrow practice, wer…
If I freely can discover What would please me in my lover, I would have her fair and witty, Savouring more of court than city; A little proud, but full of pity;
A farewell for a Gentlewoman, ver… False world, good-night, since tho… That houre upon my morne of age, Hence-forth I quit thee from my t… My part is ended on thy stage.
The long laments I spent for ruin… Are dried; and now mine eyes run t… No more shall men suppose Electra… Though from the consort of her sis… Unto the Artick circle, here to g…
The Turn Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great yea… When the prodigious Hannibal did… His rage, with razing your immorta…
Here lies, to each her parents’ ru… Mary, the daughter of their youth; Yet all heaven’s gifts being heave… It makes the father less to rue. At six months’ end she parted henc…
Pray thee, take care, that tak’st… To read it well: that is, to under…
Do but consider this small dust Here running in the glass, By atoms moved; Could you believe that this The body was
Let it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years, I have had, and have, my peers; Poets, though divine, are men,
Still to be neat, still to be dres… As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfum… Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not fo…