Come, weep no more, for ’tis in va… Torment not thus your pretty heart… Think, Flavia, we may meet again, As well as that we now must part. You sigh and weep; the gods neglec…

When Kneller’s works, of various… Were to fair Venus shown, The Goddess spied in every face Some features of her own. Just so, (and pointing with her ha…

Well, I will never more complain, Or call the Fates unkind; Alas! how fond it is, how vain! But self-conceitedness does reign I nevery mortal mind.

While with labour assiduous due pl… And in one day atone for the busin… In a little Dutch chaise, on a Sa… On my left hand my Horace, a W* o… No memoirs to compose, and no post…

Since hired for life, thy servile… Successive conquests and a gloriou… Must of a man immortal vainly boas… And bring him laurels whatsoe’er t… What turn wilt thou employ, what c…

Matthew met Richard, when or wher… From story is not mighty clear: Of many knotty points they spoke, And pro and con by turns they too… Rats half the manuscript have ate;

Whate’er thy countrymen have done By law and wit, by sword and gun, In thee is faithfully recited, And all the living world that view Thy work, give thee the praises du…

The amorous youth, whose tender br… Was by his darling Cat possest, Obtain’d of Venus his desire, Howe’er irregular his fire: Nature the power of love obey’d,

Strephonetta, why d’ye fly me, With such rigour in your eyes: Oh! ’tis cruel to deny me, Since your charms I so much prize… But I plainly see the reason

Whilst I in prison or in court lo… Nor beg thy favour nor deserve thy… In vain malicious Fortune hast th… By taking from my state to quell m… Insulting girl, thy present rage a…

Still, Dorinda, I adore; Think I mean not to deceive you, For I loved you much before, And, alas! now love you more Though I force myself to leave yo…

When famed Varelst this little wo… Flora vouchsafed the growing works… Finding the painter’s science at a… The goddess snatch’d the pencil fr… And finishing the piece, she smili…

Celia and I the other Day Walk’d o’er the Sand-Hills to the… The setting Sun adorn’d the Coast… His Beams entire, his Fierceness… And, on the Surface of the Deep,

Honour, I say, or honest Fame, I mean the substance, not the name… (Not that light heap of tawdry war… Ermin, Coronets, and Stars, Which often is by merit sought,

Yes, every poet is a fool; By demonstration, Ned can show it… Happy could Ned’s inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet.