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…
Poor POET-APE, that would be t… Whose works are e’en the frippery… From brokage is become so bold a t… As we, the robbed, leave rage, and… At first he made low shifts, would…
Good, and great God, can I not th… But it must, straight, my melancho… Is it interpreted in mee disease, That, laden with my sinnes. I see… O, be thou witnesse, that the rein…
Have you seen but a bright lily gr… Before rude hands have touched it? Have you marked but the fall of sn… Before the soil hath smutched it? Have you felt the wool of beaver,
And must I sing? What subject sha… Or whose great name in poets’ heav… For the more countenance to my act… Hercules? alas, his bones are yet… With his old earthly labours t’ ex…
Fine madam Would-Be, wherefore sh… That love to make so well, a child… The world reputes you barren: but… Your 'pothecary, and his drug says… Is it the pain affrights? That’s…
Come leave the loathéd stage, And the more loathsome age, Where pride and impudence in facti… Usurp the chair of wit, Indicting and arraigning, every da…
Some act of Love’s bound to reherse, I thought to bind him, in my verse… Which when he felt, Away (quoth h…
My son finds occupation in almost nothing, in everything: my soapy penitential toothpaste, his mother’s loosened hair orts, containers, useless things;
The trawl of unquiet mind drops as… Great lucid streamers bar the sky… (bifurcated banners at a tourney) light alchemizes the brass on the… into sallow gold
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
The owl is abroad, the bat, and th… And so is the cat-a-mountain, The ant and the mole sit both in a… And the frog peeps out o’ the foun… The dogs they do bay, and the timb…
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…
He smashed his hand in opening a door for her, and less pain than embarrassment shrieked through him… Concealing both,
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;
