That morn which saw me made a bride, The evening witness'd that I died. Those holy lights, wherewith they guide Unto the bed the bashful bride, Serv'd but as tapers for to burn...
Center is known weak-sighted, and he sells To others store of helpful spectacles. Why wears he none? Because we may suppose, Where leaven wants, there level lies the nose.
Comely acts well; and when he speaks his part, He doth it with the sweetest tones of art: But when he sings a psalm, there's none can be More curs'd for singing out of tune than he.
Fone says, those mighty whiskers he does wear Are twigs of birch, and willow, growing there: If so, we'll think too, when he does condemn Boys to the lash, that he does whip with them.
Here lies a virgin, and as sweet As e'er was wrapt in winding sheet. Her name if next you would have known, The marble speaks it, Mary Stone: Who dying in her blooming years,...
First, for effusions due unto the dead, My solemn vows have here accomplished; Next, how I love thee, that my grief must tell, Wherein thou liv'st for ever. Dear, farewell!
Now thou art dead, no eye shall ever see, For shape and service, spaniel like to thee. This shall my love do, give thy sad death one Tear, that deserves of me a million.
Display thy breasts, my Julia - there let me Behold that circummortal purity, Between whose glories there my lips I'll lay, Ravish'd in that fair via lactea.
Julia was careless, and withal She rather took than got a fall, The wanton ambler chanc'd to see Part of her legs' sincerity: And ravish'd thus, it came to pass, The nag (like to the prophet's ass)...
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.
Droop, droop no more, or hang the head, Ye roses almost withered; Now strength, and newer purple get, Each here declining violet. O primroses! let this day be A resurrection unto ye;...
As shows the air when with a rainbow grac'd, So smiles that riband 'bout my Julia's waist: Or like - nay 'tis that zonulet of love, Wherein all pleasures of the world are wove.
As shews the air when with a rain-bow graced, So smiles that ribbon 'bout my Julia's waist; Or like Nay, 'tis that Zonulet of love, Wherein all pleasures of the world are wove.