#EnglishWriters
Ah, Cruel Love! must I endure Thy many scorns, and find no cure? Say, are thy medicines made to be Helps to all others but to me? I’ll leave thee, and to Pansies c…
To my revenge, and to her desperat… Fly, thou made bubble of my sighs… In the wild air, when thou hast ro… And, like a blasting planet, found… Stoop, mount, pass by to take her…
Dread not the shackles; on with th… Good wits get more fame by their p…
MONTANO, SILVIO, AND… MON. Bad are the times. SIL.… MON. Troth, bad are both; worse… The feast of shepherds fail. SI… Of wassail now, or sets the quinte…
When that day comes, whose evening… Unto that watery desolation; Devoutly to thy Closet-gods then… That my wing’d ship may meet no R… Those deities which circum-walk th…
The Hag is astride, This night for to ride, The devil and she together; Through thick and through thin, Now out, and then in,
Be the mistress of my choice, Clean in manners, clear in voice; Be she witty, more than wise, Pure enough, though not precise; Be she showing in her dress,
At draw-gloves we’ll play, And prithee let’s lay A wager, and let it be this: Who first to the sum Of twenty shall come,
When with the virgin morning thou… Crossing thyself come thus to sacr… First wash thy heart in innocence;… Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pur… Next to the altar humbly kneel, an…
Some ask’d me where the Rubies gr… And nothing I did say, But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia. Some ask’d how Pearls did grow, a…
Whither dost thou hurry me, Bacchus, being full of thee? This way, that way, that way, this… Here and there a fresh Love is; That doth like me, this doth pleas…
Clear are her eyes, Like purest skies; Discovering from thence A baby there That turns each sphere,
Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing, While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free,
Sweet Amarillis, by a spring’s Soft and soul-melting murmurings, Slept; and thus sleeping, thither… A Robin-red-breast; who at view, Not seeing her at all to stir,
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come, and buy: If so be you ask me where They do grow? I answer, there Where my Julia’s lips do smile;—