#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
Twixt truth and error, there’s thi… Error is fruitful, truth is only o…
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,
The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup; I’ll drink to the garlands around… But first unto those Whose hands did compose
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,
The Rose was sick, and smiling di… And, being to be sanctified, About the bed, there sighing stood The sweet and flowery sisterhood. Some hung the head, while some did…
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…
Let’s call for Hymen if agreed th… Delays in love but crucify the hea… Love’s thorny tapers yet neglected… Speak thou the word, they’ll kindl… The nimble hours woo us on to wed,
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
Please your Grace, from out your… Give an alms to one that’s poor, That your mickle may have more. Black I’m grown for want of meat, Give me then an ant to eat,
Display thy breasts, my Julia, th… Behold that circummortal purity; Between whose glories, there my li… Ravished in that fair Via Lactea.
Let fair or foul my mistress be, Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me; Or let her walk, or stand, or sit, The posture her’s, I’m pleased wi… Or let her tongue be still, or sti…
When with the virgin morning thou… Crossing thyself come thus to sacr… First wash thy heart in innocence;… Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pur… Next to the altar humbly kneel, an…
O thou, the wonder of all days! O paragon, and pearl of praise! O Virgin-martyr, ever blest Above the rest Of all the maiden-train! We come…
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…
Open thy gates To him who weeping waits, And might come in, But that held back by sin. Let mercy be
