I could wish you all who love, That ye could your thoughts remove From your mistresses, and be Wisely wanton, like to me, I could wish you dispossessed Of that fiend that mars your rest,...
So looks Anthea, when in bed she lies O'ercome or half betray'd by tiffanies, Like to a twilight, or that simpering dawn That roses show when misted o'er with lawn....
Dean Bourn, farewell; I never look to see Dean, or thy watery[1] incivility. Thy rocky bottom, that doth tear thy streams And makes them frantic even to all extremes, To my content I never should behold,...
Love love begets, then never be Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee. Tigers and bears, I've heard some say, For proffer'd love will love repay: None are so harsh, but if they find...
For being comely, consonant, and free To most of men, but most of all to me; For so decreeing that thy clothes' expense Keeps still within a just circumference; Then for contriving so to load thy board...
Can I not come to Thee, my God, for these So very many meeting hindrances, That slack my pace, but yet not make me stay? Who slowly goes, rids, in the end, his way....
When first I find those numbers thou dost write, To be most soft, terse, sweet, and perpolite: Next, when I see thee tow'ring in the sky, In an expansion no less large than high;...
One night i'th' year, my dearest Beauties, come, And bring those dew-drink-offerings to my tomb; When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise, And there to lick th' effused sacrifice,...
I've paid thee what I promis'd; that's not all; Besides I give thee here a verse that shall (When hence thy circummortal part is gone), Arch-like, hold up thy name's inscription....
The person crowns the place; your lot doth fall Last, yet to be with these a principal. Howe'er it fortuned; know for truth, I meant You a fore-leader in this testament.
Whom should I fear to write to if I can Stand before you, my learn'd diocesan? And never show blood-guiltiness or fear To see my lines excathedrated here. Since none so good are but you may condemn,...
No more shall I, since I am driven hence, Devote to thee my grains of frankincense; No more shall I from mantle-trees hang down, To honour thee, my little parsley crown;...
A funeral stone Or verse, I covet none; But only crave Of you that I may have A sacred laurel springing from my grave: Which being seen Blest with perpetual green, May grow to be...
I'm free from thee; and thou no more shalt hear My puling pipe to beat against thine ear. Farewell my shackles, though of pearl they be; Such precious thraldom ne'er shall fetter me....
Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere; Then if thy voice commingle with the string, I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;...
My Muse in meads has spent her many hours Sitting, and sorting several sorts of flowers, To make for others garlands; and to set On many a head here, many a coronet. But amongst all encircled here, not one...
Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there be A fault, 'tis hid if it be voic'd by thee. Thy mouth will make the sourest numbers please: How will it drop pure honey speaking these!