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…

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…

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

Have ye beheld (with much delight) A red rose peeping through a white… Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam

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

Come, sit we under yonder tree, Where merry as the maids we’ll be; And as on primroses we sit, We’ll venture, if we can, at wit; If not, at draw-gloves we will pla…

Here lies Jonson with the rest Of the poets; but the best. Reader, would’st thou more have kn… Ask his story, not this stone. That will speak what this can’t te…

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

Thou art to all lost love the best… The only true plant found, Wherewith young men and maids dist… And left of love, are crown’d. When once the lover’s rose is dead

That flow of gallants which approa… To kiss thy hand from out the coac… That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postilion; Those strong-hoof’d mules, which w…

Knew’st thou one month would take… Thou’dst weep; but laugh, should i…

Down with the rosemary and bays, Down with the misletoe; Instead of holly, now up-raise The greener box, for show. The holly hitherto did sway;

From this bleeding hand of mine, Take this sprig of Eglantine: Which, though sweet unto your smel… Yet the fretful briar will tell, He who plucks the sweets, shall pr…

That hour-glass which there you se… With water fill’d, sirs, credit me… The humour was, as I have read, But lovers’ tears incrystalled. Which, as they drop by drop do pas…

If thou dislik’st the piece thou l… Think that of all that I have wri… But if thou read’st my book unto t… And still dost this and that verse… O perverse man! If all disgustful…