#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
Get up, get up for shame, the Blo… Upon her wings presents the god un… See how Aurora throwes her faire Fresh—quilted colours through the… Get up, sweet—Slug—a—bed, and see
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…
Happily I had a sight Of my dearest dear last night; Make her this day smile on me, And I’ll roses give to thee!
Sadly I walk’d within the field, To see what comfort it would yield… And as I went my private way, An olive-branch before me lay; And seeing it, I made a stay,
Sapho, I will chuse to go Where the northern winds do blow Endless ice, and endless snow; Rather than I once would see But a winter’s face in thee,—
For brave comportment, wit without… Words fully flowing, yet of influe… Thou art that man of men, the man… Worthy the public admiration; Who with thine own eyes read’st wh…
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attain’d his noon. Stay, stay,
HERE, Here I live with what my… Can with the smallest cost afford; Though ne’er so mean the viands be… They well content my Prue and me: Or pea or bean, or wort or beet,
Thou see’st me, Lucia, this year… Three zodiacs fill’d more, I shal… Let crutches then provided be To shore up my debility: Then, while thou laugh’st, I’ll s…
How rich and pleasing thou, my Ju… In each thy dainty and peculiar pa… First, for thy Queen-ship on thy… Of flowers a sweet commingled coro… About thy neck a carkanet is bound…
Orpheus he went, as poets tell, To fetch Eurydice from hell; And had her, but it was upon This short, but strict condition; Backward he should not look, while…
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 will ye, my poor orphans, do, When I must leave the world and y… Who’ll give ye then a sheltering s… Or credit ye, when I am dead? Who’ll let ye by their fire sit,
Honour to you who sit Near to the well of wit, And drink your fill of it! Glory and worship be To you, sweet Maids, thrice three…
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…
