#Renaissance
Good and great God, can I not thi… But it must straight my melancholy… Is it interpreted in me disease That, laden with my sins, I seek… Oh be thou witness, that the reins…
Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this security, It is the common moth
Now that the harth is crown’d with… And some do drink, and some do dan… Some ring, Some sing, And all do strive t’advance
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;
Fortune, that favours fools, these… We wish away, both for your sakes… Judging spectators; and desire, in… To the author justice, to ourselve… Our scene is London, 'cause we wo…
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…
Lucy, you brightness of our sphere… Life of the Muses’ day, their mor… If works, not th’ author’s, their… Whose poems would not wish to be y… But these, desir’d by you, the mak…
Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time… Yet slower, yet, O faintly, gentl… List to the heavy part the music b… Woe weeps out her division, when s… Droop herbs and flowers;
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,
if only for ten minutes after the mass feeding of schoolch… after the careful inanity of the s… at low tide this was the place
Why do we lie ‘Why do we lie,’ she questioned, h… on the grey Autumn wind and its co… ‘all afternoon wasted in bed like… ‘Because we cannot lie all night t…
Though beauty be the mark of prais… And yours of whom I sing be such As not the world can praise too mu… Yet ’tis your virtue now I raise. A virtue, like allay, so gone
I now think Love is rather deaf t… For else it could not be That she, Whom I adore so much, should so s… And cast my love behind.
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…
