Paske, though his debt be due upon the day Demands no money by a craving way; For why, says he, all debts and their arrears Have reference to the shoulders, not the ears.
Soon did he Almighty Giver of all rest Take those dear young Ones to a fearless nest; And in Death's arms has long reposed the Friend For whom this simple Register was penned....
To paint the fiend, Pink would the devil see; And so he may, if he'll be rul'd by me; Let but Pink's face i' th' looking-glass be shown, And Pink may paint the devil's by his own.
I know that Fortune long has wanted sight, And therefore pardon'd when she did not right; But yet till then it never did appear That, as she wanted eyes, she could not hear....
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.
When thou dost play and sweetly sing - Whether it be the voice or string Or both of them that do agree Thus to entrance and ravish me - This, this I know, I'm oft struck mute, And die away upon thy lute.
Who rashly strove thy Image to portray? Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air; How could he think of the live creature gay With a divinity of colours, drest In all her brightness, from the dancing crest...
When some shall say, Fair once my Silvia was, Thou wilt complain, False now's thy looking-glass, Which renders that quite tarnished which was green, And priceless now what peerless once had been....
Snare, ten i' th' hundred calls his wife; and why? She brings in much by carnal usury. He by extortion brings in three times more: Say, who's the worst, th' exactor or the whore?
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....
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;...
So long, it seem'd, as Mary's faith was small, Christ did her woman, not her Mary call; But no more woman, being strong in faith, But Mary call'd then, as St. Ambrose saith.
Rome! what a scroll of History thine has been; In the first days thy sword republican Ruled the whole world for many an age's span: Then of the peoples wert thou royal Queen,...
Perchance it was her eyes of blue, Her cheeks that might the rose have shamed, Her figure in proportion true To all the rules by artists framed; Perhaps it was her mental worth...