Thou art to all lost love the best… The only true plant found, Wherewith young men and maids dist… And left of love, are crown’d. When once the lover’s rose is dead

Play, Phoebus, on thy lute, And we will sit all mute; By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire. Hark, hark! the God does play!

When I love, as some have told Love I shall, when I am old, O ye Graces! make me fit For the welcoming of it! Clean my rooms, as temples be,

You see this grntle stream that gl… Shoved on, by quick-succeeding tid… Try if this sober stream you can Follow to th’ wider ocean, And see, if there it keeps unspent

Dew sate on Julia’s hair, And spangled too, Like leaves that laden are With trembling dew; Or glitter’d to my sight,

I dreamt the Roses one time went To meet and sit in Parliament; The place for these, and for the r… Of flowers, was thy spotless breas… Over the which a state was drawn

Come, bring your sampler, and with… Draw in’t a wounded heart, And dropping here and there; Not that I think that any dart Can make your’s bleed a tear,

All things decay with time: The… The growth and down-fall of her ag… That timber tall, which three-scor… The proud dictator of the state-li… I mean the sovereign of all plants…

Twixt truth and error, there’s thi… Error is fruitful, truth is only o…

Man may want land to live in; but… Nature finds out some place for bu…

Come, Anthea, let us two Go to feast, as others do: Tarts and custards, creams and cak… Are the junkets still at wakes; Unto which the tribes resort,

—AND, cruel maid, because I see You scornful of my love, and me, I’ll trouble you no more, but go My way, where you shall never know What is become of me; there I

When all birds else do of their mu… Money’s the still-sweet-singing ni…

Things are uncertain; and the more… The more on icy pavements we are s…