Let others look for pearl and gold, Tissues, or tabbies manifold: One only lock of that sweet hay Whereon the blessed Baby lay, Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall be The richest New-Year's gift to me.
Go hence, and with this parting kiss, Which joins two souls, remember this: Though thou be'st young, kind, soft, and fair And may'st draw thousands with a hair; Yet let these glib temptations be...
May his pretty dukeship grow Like t'a rose of Jericho: Sweeter far than ever yet Showers or sunshines could beget. May the Graces and the Hours Strew his hopes and him with flowers:...
The sup'rabundance of my store, That is the portion of the poor: Wheat, barley, rye, or oats; what is't But He takes toll of? all the grist. Two raiments have I: Christ then makes...
Herr. Come and let's in solemn wise Both address to sacrifice: Old religion first commands That we wash our hearts, and hands. Is the beast exempt from stain, Altar clean, no fire profane?...
Lilies will languish; violets look ill; Sickly the primrose; pale the daffodil; That gallant tulip will hang down his head, Like to a virgin newly ravished; Pansies will weep, and marigolds will wither,...
Water, water I desire, Here's a house of flesh on fire; Ope the fountains and the springs, And come all to bucketings: What ye cannot quench pull down; Spoil a house to save a town:...
Whether I was myself, or else did see Out of myself that glorious hierarchy; Or whether those, in orders rare, or these Made up one state of sixty Venuses; Or whether fairies, syrens, nymphs they were,...
Love in a shower of blossoms came Down, and half drown'd me with the same; The blooms that fell were white and red; But with such sweets commingled, As whether (this) I cannot tell,...
For sport my Julia threw a lace Of silk and silver at my face: Watchet the silk was, and did make A show as if't had been a snake: The suddenness did me afright, But though it scar'd, it did not bite.
The gods require the thighs Of beeves for sacrifice; Which roasted, we the steam Must sacrifice to them, Who though they do not eat, Yet love the smell of meat.
Holy water come and bring; Cast in salt, for seasoning: Set the brush for sprinkling: Sacred spittle bring ye hither; Meal and it now mix together, And a little oil to either....
From this bleeding hand of mine, Take this sprig of Eglantine: Which, though sweet unto your smell, Yet the fretful briar will tell, He who plucks the sweets, shall prove Many thorns to be in love.
Two instruments belong unto our God: The one a staff is and the next a rod; That if the twig should chance too much to smart, The staff might come to play the friendly part.