Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this security, It is the common moth

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…

Tonight, grave sir, both my poor h… Do equally desire your company; Not that we think us worthy such a… But that your worth will dignify o… With those that come, whose grace…

So breaks the sun earth’s rugged c… Wherein rude winter bound her vein… So grows both stream and source of… That lately fettered were with ice… So naked trees get crisped heads,

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…

Queen and huntress, chaste and fai… Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light,

Who says that Giles and Joan at d…   Th’ observing neighbors no such… Indeed, poor Giles repents he mar…   But that his Joan doth too. An… By his free will be in Joan’s com…

Drink to me, only, with thine eyes… And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kisse but in the cup, And Ile not look for wine. The thirst, that from the soule do…

Follow a shaddow, it still flies y… Seeme to flye it, it will pursue: So court a mistris, she denies you… Let her alone, she will court you. Say, are not women truly, then,

My son finds occupation in almost nothing, in everything: my soapy penitential toothpaste, his mother’s loosened hair orts, containers, useless things;

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…

'Tis growne almost a danger to spe… Of any good minde, now: There are… The bad, by number, are so fortifi… As what th’have lost t’expect, the… So both the prais’d, and praisers…

Ere cherries ripe, and strawberrie… Unto the cries of London I’ll add… Ripe statesmen, ripe: they grow in… At six-and-twenty, ripe. You shal… And have him yield no favour, but…

From 'Cynthia’s Revels’ Queen and huntress, chaste and fai… Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair,

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;