#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, —'Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown;
Droop, droop no more, or hang the… Ye roses almost withered; Now strength, and newer purple get… Each here declining violet. O primroses! let this day be
That flow of gallants which approa… To kiss thy hand from out the coac… That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postilion; Those strong-hoof’d mules, which w…
In man, ambition is the common’st… Each one by nature loves to be a k…
LACON. For a kiss or two, conf… What doth cause this pensiveness, Thou most lovely neat-herdess? Why so lonely on the hill? Why thy pipe by thee so still,
What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth,
In this world, the Isle of Dreams… While we sit by sorrow’s streams, Tears and terrors are our themes, Reciting: But when once from hence we fly,
I have lost, and lately, these Many dainty mistresses: Stately Julia, prime of all; Sappho next, a principal; Smooth Anthea, for a skin
Dull to myself, and almost dead to… My many fresh and fragrant mistres… Lost to all music now, since every… Puts on the semblance here of sorr… Sick is the land to th’ heart, and…
For those my unbaptized rhymes, Writ in my wild unhallowed times, For every sentence, clause, and wo… That’s not inlaid with Thee, my L… Forgive me, God, and blot each li…
When I behold a forest spread With silken trees upon thy head; And when I see that other dress Of flowers set in comeliness; When I behold another grace
I dreamed this mortal part of mine Was metamorphosed to a vine, Which crawling one and every way Enthralled my dainty Lucia. Methought her long small legs and…
God will have all, or none; serve… Down before Baal, Bel, or Belial… Either be hot, or cold: God doth… Abhorre, and spew out all Neutral…
Hapcot! To thee the Fairy State I with discretion, dedicate. Because thou prizest things that a… Curious, and un-familiar. Take first the feast; these dishes…
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.