#EnglishWriters
I laugh and sing, but cannot tell Whether the folly on’t sounds well… But then I groan, Methinks, in tune; Whilst grief, despair and fear dan…
Amarantha sweet and faire, Ah brade no more that shining hair… As my curious hand or eye, Hovering round thee, let it flye. II.
Now fie upon that everlasting life… She hates! Ah me! It makes me m… As if love fir’d his torch at a mo… Or with his joyes e’re crown’d the… Oh, let me live and shout, when I…
Cleft as the top of the inspired h… Struggles the soul of my divided q… Whilst this foot doth the watry mo… That Sinai’s living and enlivenin… Behold my powers storm’d by a twis…
Depose your finger of that ring, And crowne mine with’t awhile; Now I restor’t. Pray, dos it brin… Back with it more of soile? Or shines it not as innocent,
Amyntor. Alexis! ah Alexis! can it be, Though so much wet and drie Doth drowne our eye, Thou keep’st thy winged voice from…
LONG in thy Shackels, liberty, I ask not from these walls, but th… Left for a while anothers Bride, To fancy all the world beside. II
MART. EPI. XLIII. LIB. I. Conjugis audisset fatum cum Porti… Et substracta sibi quaereret arma… Nondum scitis, ait, mortem non pos… Credideram satis hoc vos docuisse…
I’m un-ore-clowded, too! free from… The blind and late Heaven’s-eyes… Obscured with the false fires of h… Not half those souls are lightned… Unhappy murmurers, that still repi…
From the dire monument of thy blac… Wher now that vestal flame thou do… As in the inmost cell of all earth… II. Sacred Lucasta, like the pow’rful…
See! what an undisturbed teare She weepes for her last sleepe; But, viewing her, straight wak’d a… She weepes that she did weepe. II.
If in me anger, or disdaine In you, or both, made me refraine From th’ noble intercourse of vers… That only vertuous thoughts rehear… Then, chaste Ellinda, might you f…
When love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates; And my divine ALTHEA brings To whisper at the grates; When I lye tangled in her haire,
Introth, I do my self perswade, That the wilde boy is grown a man, And all his childishnesse off laid… E’re since Lucasta did his fires… H’ has left his apish jigs,
