#EnglishWriters
Interr’d beneath this marble stone… Lie saunt’ring Jack and idle Joan… While rolling threescore years and… Did round this globe their courses… If human things went ill or well;
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
On Exodus III. 14. ‘I am that I… Man! foolish man! Scarce know’st thou how thyself be… Scarce hadst thou thought enough t… Yet, steel’d with studied boldness…
Haste, my Nannette, My lovely maid, Haste to the bower Thy swain has made. For thee alone
Thy elder Look, Great Janus, cas… Into the long Records of Ages pas… Review the Years in fairest Actio… With noted White, Superior to the… Aera’s deriv’d, and Chronicles be…
At dead of night, when stars appea… And strong Bootes turns the Bear, When mortals sleep their cares awa… Fatigued with labours of the day, Cupid was knocking at my gate;
His lamp, his bow, and quiver laid… A rustic wallet o’er his shoulders… Sly Cupid, always on new mischief… To the rich field and furrow’d til… Like any ploughman toil’d the litt…
LORDS, knights, and squires, the… That wear the fair Miss Mary’s… Were summoned by her high command To show their passions by their… My pen amongst the rest I took,
Since my words, though ne’er so te… With sincerest truth express’d, Cannot make your heart surrender, Nor so much as warm your breast; What will move the springs of Nat…
Phillis, give this humour over, We too long have time abused; I shall turn an errant rover If the favour’s still refused. Faith ’tis nonsense out of measure…
Written three hundred years since. Be it right or wrong, these men am… On women do complayne; Affyrmynge this, how that it is A labour spent in vaine
Thus Kitty, beautiful and young, And wild as colt untamed, Bespoke the fair from whence she s… With little rage inflamed. Inflamed with rage at sad restrain…
Cloe beauty has, and wit, And an air that is not common; Every charm in her does meet, Fit to make a handsome woman. But we do not only find
How old may Phyllis be, you ask, Whose beauty thus all hearts engag… To answer is no easy task; For she has really two ages. Stiff in brocard, and pinch’d in s…
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.