Weep with me, all you that read This little story: And know, for whom a tear you shed Death’s self is sorry. 'Twas a child, that so did thrive
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
A child of Queen Elizabeth’s Cha… Epitaphs: ii WEEP with me, all you that read This little story; And know, for whom a tear you shed
FALSE world, good night! since t… That hour upon my morn of age; Henceforth I quit thee from my th… My part is ended on thy stage. Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear
Who says that Giles and Joan at d… Â Th’ observing neighbors no such… Indeed, poor Giles repents he mar… Â But that his Joan doth too. An… By his free will be in Joan’s com…
Beauties, have ye seen this toy, Called Love, a little boy, Almost naked, wanton, blind; Cruel now, and then as kind? If he be amongst ye, say?
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…
In the ember days of my last free… here I lie, outside myself, watchi… the gross body eating a poor curry… satisfied at what I have done, sca… I have to do in my last free winte…
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…
Why, Disease, dost thou molest Ladies? and of them the best? Do not men, ynow of rites To thy altars, by their nights Spent in surfets: and their dayes,
Why Gentlemen, doe you know what… Would you ha’kept me out? Christm… Christmas of London, and Captaine… Pray you let me be brought before… 'Tis merrie in hall when beards wa…
I that have been a lover, and coul… Though not in these, in rhymes n… Since I exscribe your sonnets,… A better lover, and much better po… Nor is my Muse, or I ashamed to o…
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;
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…
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
