Away with silks, away with lawn, I'll have no scenes or curtains drawn; Give me my mistress as she is, Dress'd in her nak'd simplicities; For as my heart e'en so mine eye Is won with flesh, not drapery.
Thrice, and above, blest, my soul's half, art thou, In thy both last and better vow; Could'st leave the city, for exchange, to see The country's sweet simplicity; And it to know and practise, with intent...
When a daffodil I see, Hanging down his head towards me, Guess I may what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead; Lastly, safely buried.
Of flanks and chines of beef doth Gorrell boast He has at home; but who tastes boil'd or roast? Look in his brine-tub, and you shall find there Two stiff blue pigs'-feet and a sow's cleft ear.