Perhaps ’twas but conceit. Errone… Thou art thine own distemper and o… Imagine then, that sick unwholsom… Was thy corruption breath’d into a… Nor is it strange, when we in char…

For all the Ship-wracks, and the… Lost men have gain’d within the fu… The Sea hath fin’d and for our wr… When its wrought foam a Venus did… But what repair wilt thou unhappy…

Down stormy passions, down; no mor… Let your rude waves invade the sho… Where blushing reason sits and hid… Her from the fury of your tides. Fit onely ’tis where you bear sway

A prison is in all things like a g… Where we no better priviledges hav… Then dead men, nor so good. The s… Lives freer now, then when she was… In walls of flesh; and though she…

Life is a crooked Labyrinth, and… Are daily lost in that Obliquity. ’Tis a perplexed circle, in whose… Nothing but sorrows and new sins a… How is the faint impression of eac…

Fond Lunatick forbear, why do’st… For thy affections pay e’re it is… Loves fruits are legal use; and th… Be onely taken on the marriage day… Who for this interest too early ca…

Move on thou floating Trophee bui… And bid her trump spread thy Maje… That the blew Tritons, and those… Which sport themselves upon the da… May bow as to their Neptune, when…

Now that each feather’d Chorister… The glad approches of the welcome… Now Phœbus darts forth his more… And dips it later in the curled st… I should to custome prove a retrog…

Let no profane ignoble foot tread… This hallow’d peece of earth, Dor… A small sad relique of a noble spi… Free as the air, and ample as his… Whose least perfection was large,…

I prethee turn that face away Whose splendour but benights my da… Sad eyes like mine, and wounded he… Shun the bright rayes which beauty… Unwelcome is the Sun that pries

Love is our Reasons Paradox, whic… Against the judgment doth maintain… And governs by such arbitrary laws… It onely makes the Act our Liking… We have no brave revenge, but to f…

But is it true, the Court mislik’… That Christ-Church and the Arts… That Ignoramus should so far exce… Their Hobby-horse from ours hath… Troth you are justly serv’d, that…

1 Accept, thou shrine of my de… 2 Instead of dirges, this comp… 3 And for sweet flow’rs to cro… 4 From thy griev’d friend, who… 5 Quite melted into tears for…

I envy not thy mortal triumphs, D… (Thou enemy to Vertue as to Breat… Nor do I wonder much, nor yet com… The weekly numbers by thy arrow sl… The whole world is thy Factory, a…

The man is blest whose feet not tr… By wicked counsailes led: Nor stands in that perverted way, In which the Sinners stray; Nor joynes himselfe unto the chair…