#English #XVIICentury
What, so beyond all madnesse is th… Now he hath got out of himself! His fatal enemy the Bee, Nor his deceiv’d artillerie, His shackles, nor the roses bough
AUSONIUS. Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi po… Ignotamque oculis solicitare manu? Aeris et venti sum filia, mater in… Indicii, vocemque sine mente gero.
Cold as the breath of winds that b… To silver shot descending snow, Lucasta sigh’t; when she did close The world in frosty chaines! And then a frowne to rubies frose
DE SUO IN LESBIAM AMORE.… Nulla potest mulier tantum se dice… Vere, quantum a me Lesbia amata m… Nulla fides ullo fuit unquam faede… Quanta in amore suo ex parte reper…
With that delight the Royal capti… Before the throne, to breath his f… To tel his last tale, and so end w… Which gladly he esteemes a benefit… When the brave victor, at his grea…
SING out pent Soules, sing cheer… Care Shackles you in Liberty, Mirth frees you in Captivity: Would you double fetters adde? Else why so sadde?
AD LESBIAM, CAT. EP. 73. Dicebas quondam, solum to nosse C… Lesbia, nec prae me velle tenere… Dilexi tum te, non tantum ut vulgu… Sed pater ut gnatos diligit et gen…
I’ th’ autumn of a summer’s day, When all the winds got leave to pl… LUCASTA, that fair ship, is lan… And from its crust this almond bla… II.
What means this stately tablature, The ballance of thy streins, Which seems, in stead of sifting p… T’ extend and rack thy veins? Thy Odes first their own harmony…
SANAZARI HEXASTICON. Viderat Adriacis quondam Neptunus… Stare urbem et toto ponere Jura m… Nunc mihi Tarpeias quantumvis, Ju… Objice et illa mihi moenia Martis…
See! with what constant motion Even and glorious, as the sunne, Gratiana steeres that noble frame, Soft as her breast, sweet as her v… That gave each winding law and poy…
Sweet serene skye—like Flower, Haste to adorn her Bower: From thy long clowdy bed, Shoot forth thy damaske head. II.
A Gentleman to give us somewhat n… Hath brought up Oxford with him t… Pray be not frighted—Tho the Scæn… The Universities, the Wits, the… The Lines each honest Englishman…
Sir, your sad absence I complain,… Her long-hid spring, that gave her… Who now her cheerful aromatick hea… Shrinks in her cold and dismal wid… Whilst the false sun her lover dot…
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkind… That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste breast and quiet min… To warre and armes I flie. True: a new Mistresse now I chase…