Come thou, who art the wine and wi… Of all I’ve writ; The grace, the glory, and the best Piece of the rest; Thou art of what I did intend

Nothing comes free-cost here; Jov… His gifts go from him, if not boug…

Ponder my words, if so that any be Known guilty here of incivility; Let what is graceless, discomposed… With sweetness, smoothness, softne… Teach it to blush, to curtsey, lis…

WHAT conscience, say, is it in t…    When I a heart had one, To take away that heart from me,    And to retain thy own? For shame or pity now incline

Those ends in war the best content… Whose peace is made up with a pard…

Truth by her own simplicity is kno… Falsehood by varnish and vermilion…

What can I do in poetry, Now the good spirit’s gone from me… Why, nothing now but lonely sit And over-read what I have writ.

First, April, she with mellow sho… Opens the way for early flowers; Then after her comes smiling May, In a more rich and sweet array; Next enters June, and brings us m…

Give me a cell To dwell, Where no foot hath A path; There will I spend,

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,

Among the myrtles as I walk’d Love and my sighs thus intertalk’d… Tell me, said I, in deep distress… Where I may find my Shepherdess? —Thou fool, said Love, know’st th…

Let’s live in haste; use pleasures… Could life return, 'twould never l…

The Hag is astride, This night for to ride, The devil and she together; Through thick and through thin, Now out, and then in,

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

When words we want, Love teacheth… And what we blush to speak, she bi…