More discontents I never had Since I was born, than here; Where I have been, and still am,… In this dull Devonshire. Yet justly too I must confess,

A wearied pilgrim I have wander’d… Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but… Long I have lasted in this world;… But yet those years that I have l… Who by his gray hairs doth his lus…

Charm me asleep, and melt me so With thy delicious numbers; That being ravish’d, hence I go Away in easy slumbers. Ease my sick head,

HERE a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies: Pray be silent and not stir Th’ easy earth that covers her.

No man such rare parts hath, that… If favour or occasion help not him…

About the sweet bag of a bee Two Cupids fell at odds; And whose the pretty prize should… They vow’d to ask the Gods. Which Venus hearing, thither came…

Love’s of itself too sweet; the be… Is, when love’s honey has a dash o…

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may: Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles t… To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the…

In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.

Cupid as he lay among Roses, by a Bee was stung. Whereupon in anger flying To his Mother, said thus crying; Help! O help! your Boy’s a dying.

Still to our gains our chief respe… Reward it is that makes us good or…

If little labour, little are our g… Man’s fortunes are according to hi…

Here a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies; Pray be silent, and not stir Th’ easy earth that covers her.

That hour-glass which there you se… With water fill’d, sirs, credit me… The humour was, as I have read, But lovers’ tears incrystalled. Which, as they drop by drop do pas…

Clear are her eyes, Like purest skies; Discovering from thence A baby there That turns each sphere,