Julia, if I chance to die Ere I print my poetry, I most humbly thee desire To commit it to the fire: Better ’twere my book were dead,

Welcome, maids of honour, You do bring In the Spring; And wait upon her. She has virgins many,

TO THE HONOURED MR E… THE BED-CHAMBER TO HIS… Sweet country life, to such unknow… Whose lives are others’, not their… But serving courts and cities, be

O years! and age! farewell: Behold I go, Where I do know Infinity to dwell. And these mine eyes shall see

I ask’d thee oft what poets thou h… And lik’st the best? Still thou… —I shall, ere long, with green tur… Then sure thou’lt like, or thou wi…

Bid me to live, and I will live Thy protestant to be; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee. A heart as soft, a heart as kind,

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,

Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing, While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free,

If little labour, little are our g… Man’s fortunes are according to hi…

Tears, though they’re here below t… Above, they are the Angels’ spice…

Praise, they that will, times past… Myself now live; this age best ple…

HERE a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall

Born I was to be old, And for to die here; After that, in the mould Long for to lie here. But before that day comes,

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

Good things, that come of course,… Than those which come by sweet con…