#EnglishWriters
Clear are her eyes, Like purest skies; Discovering from thence A baby there That turns each sphere,
Drink wine, and live here blithefu… The morrow’s life too late is; Li…
Still to our gains our chief respe… Reward it is that makes us good or…
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…
No man such rare parts hath, that… If favour or occasion help not him…
Good things, that come of course,… Than those which come by sweet con…
True mirth resides not in the smil… The sweetest solace is to act no s…
Thou bidst me come away, And I’ll no longer stay, Than for to shed some tears For faults of former years; And to repent some crimes
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,
Night hath no wings to him that ca… And Time seems then not for to fl… Slowly her chariot drives, as if t… Had broke her wheel, or crack’d he… Just so it is with me, who list’ni…
Play, Phoebus, on thy lute, And we will sit all mute; By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire. Hark, hark! the God does play!
Come, Anthea, let us two Go to feast, as others do: Tarts and custards, creams and cak… Are the junkets still at wakes; Unto which the tribes resort,
Am I despised, because you say; And I dare swear, that I am gray? Know, Lady, you have but your day… And time will come when you shall… Such frost and snow upon your hair…
I call, I call: who do ye call? The maids to catch this cowslip ba… But since these cowslips fading be… Troth, leave the flowers, and maid… Yet, if that neither you will do,
You are a Tulip seen to-day, But, Dearest, of so short a stay, That where you grew, scarce man ca… You are a lovely July-flower; Yet one rude wind, or ruffling sho…