Honour, I say, or honest Fame, I mean the substance, not the name; (Not that light heap of tawdry wares, Ermin, Coronets, and Stars, Which often is by merit sought, By gold and flatt'ry oft'ner bought....
Huncks has no money, he does swear or say, About him, when the tavern's shot's to pay. If he has none in 's pockets, trust me, Huncks Has none at home in coffers, desks, or trunks.
Tell me, what needs those rich deceits, These golden toils, and trammel nets, To take thine hairs when they are known Already tame, and all thine own? 'Tis I am wild, and more than hairs...
Dew sate on Julia's hair, And spangled too, Like leaves that laden are With trembling dew; Or glitter'd to my sight, As when the beams Have their reflected light Danced by the streams.
Tell, if thou canst, and truly, whence doth come This camphire, storax, spikenard, galbanum, These musks, these ambers, and those other smells Sweet as the Vestry of the Oracles....
Tell if thou canst, and truly, whence doth come This camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; These musks, these ambers, and those other smells, Sweet as the vestry of the oracles....
How fierce was I, when I did see My Julia wash herself in thee! So lilies thorough crystal look: So purest pebbles in the brook: As in the river Julia did, Half with a lawn of water hid....
Prue, my dearest maid, is sick, Almost to be lunatic: 'sculapius! come and bring Means for her recovering; And a gallant cock shall be Offer'd up by her to thee.
Puss and her 'prentice both at drawgloves play; That done, they kiss, and so draw out the day: At night they draw to supper; then well fed, They draw their clothes off both, so draw to bed.
Why do not all fresh maids appear To work love's sampler only here, Where spring-time smiles throughout the year? Are not here rosebuds, pinks, all flowers Nature begets by th' sun and showers,...
'See, sir, here's the grand approach, This way is for his Grace's coach: There lies the bridge, and here's the clock, Observe the lion and the cock, The spacious court, the colonnade,...
Upon the gallows hung a wretch, Too sullied for the hell To which the law entitled him. As nature's curtain fell The one who bore him tottered in, For this was woman's son....
One of the five straight branches of my hand Is lop'd already, and the rest but stand Expecting when to fall, which soon will be; First dies the leaf, the bough next, next the tree.
I have lost, and lately, these Many dainty mistresses: Stately Julia, prime of all; Sapho next, a principal: Smooth Anthea, for a skin White, and heaven-like crystalline:...
Praised be the Art whose subtle power could stay Yon cloud, and fix it in that glorious shape; Nor would permit the thin smoke to escape, Nor those bright sunbeams to forsake the day;...