#EnglishWriters
Go, happy Rose, and interwove With other flowers, bind my Love. Tell her, too, she must not be Longer flowing, longer free, That so oft has fetter’d me.
Want is a softer wax, that takes t… This, that, and every base impress…
Welcome, maids of honour, You do bring In the Spring; And wait upon her. She has virgins many,
Charms, that call down the moon fr… On this sick youth work your encha… Bind up his senses with your numbe… As to entrance his pain, or cure h… Fall gently, gently, and a-while h…
From noise of scare-fires rest ye… From murders Benedicite. From all mischances that may frigh… Your pleasing slumbers in the nigh… Mercy secure ye all, and keep
My faithful friend, if you can see The fruit to grow up, or the tree; If you can see the colour come Into the blushing pear or plum; If you can see the water grow
Why, Madam, will ye longer weep, Whenas your baby’s lull’d asleep? And, pretty child, feels now no mo… Those pains it lately felt before. All now is silent; groans are fled…
HERE a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies: Pray be silent and not stir Th’ easy earth that covers her.
In all thy need, be thou possest Still with a well prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad… Thou canst but have what others ha… And this for comfort thou must kno…
No fault in women, to refuse The offer which they most would ch… —No fault: in women, to confess How tedious they are in their dres… —No fault in women, to lay on
Kindle the Christmas brand, and t… Till sunset let it burn; Which quench’d, then lay it up aga… Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept, wherewith to te…
These fresh beauties, we can prove… Once were virgins, sick of love, Turn’d to flowers: still in some, Colours go and colours come.
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.
We two are last in hell; what may… To be tormented or kept pris’ners… Alas! if kissing be of plagues th… We’ll wish in hell we had been las…
Here she lies, a pretty bud, Lately made of flesh and blood, Who as soon fell fast asleep As her little eyes did peep. Give her strewings, but not stir