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…

Fly to my mistress, pretty pilferi… And say thou bring’st this honey-b… When on her lip thou hast thy swee… Mark if her tongue but slyly steal… If so, we live; if not, with mourn…

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,

So smooth, so sweet, so silv’ry is… As, could they hear, the Damned w… But listen to thee (walking in thy… melting melodious words to Lutes o…

Frolic virgins once these were, Overloving, living here; Being here their ends denied Ran for sweet-hearts mad, and died… Love, in pity of their tears,

Her pretty feet Like snails did creep A little out, and then, As if they played at Bo-peep, Did soon draw in again.

Scobble for whoredom whips his wif… He’ll slit her nose; but blubberin… “Good sir, make no more cuts i’ th… One slit’s enough to let adultery…

Here we are all, by day; by night… By dreams, each one into a several…

By those soft tods of wool With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there, That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain

You say I love not, 'cause I do n… Still with your curls, and kiss th… You blame me, too, because I can’… Some sport, to please those babies… By Love’s religion, I must here c…

Not all thy flushing suns are set, Herrick, as yet ; Nor doth this far-drawn hemisphere Frown and look sullen ev’rywhere. Days may conclude in nights, and s…

True mirth resides not in the smil… The sweetest solace is to act no s…

What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth,

Wrinkles no more are, or no less, Than beauty turn’d to sourness.

A wearied pilgrim I have wander’d… Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but… Long I have lasted in this world;… But yet those years that I have l… Who by his gray hairs doth his lus…