'Tis no discomfort in the world to fall,When the great crack not crushes one, but all.
'Tis no discomfort in the world to fall,When the great crack not crushes one, but all.
'Tis no discomfort in the world to fall,When the great crack not crushes one, but all.
The twilight is no other thing, we say,Than night now gone, and yet not sprung the day.
The twilight is no other thing, we say,Than night now gone, and yet not sprung the day.
The twilight is no other thing, we say,Than night now gone, and yet not sprung the day.
He who wears blacks, and mourns not for the dead,Does but deride the party buried.
He who wears blacks, and mourns not for the dead,Does but deride the party buried.
He who wears blacks, and mourns not for the dead,Does but deride the party buried.
Blacks, mourning garments.
No grief is grown so desperate, but the illIs half way cured if the party will.
No grief is grown so desperate, but the illIs half way cured if the party will.
No grief is grown so desperate, but the illIs half way cured if the party will.
If wholesome diet can recure a man,What need of physic or physician?
If wholesome diet can recure a man,What need of physic or physician?
If wholesome diet can recure a man,What need of physic or physician?
Stripes, justly given, yerk us with their fall;But causeless whipping smarts the most of all.
Stripes, justly given, yerk us with their fall;But causeless whipping smarts the most of all.
Stripes, justly given, yerk us with their fall;But causeless whipping smarts the most of all.
Along, come along,Let's meet in a throngHere of tinkers;And quaff up a bowlAs big as a cowlTo beer drinkers.The pole of the hopPlace in the aleshopTo bethwack us,If ever we thinkSo much as to drinkUnto Bacchus.Who frolic will beFor little cost, heMust not varyFrom beer-broth at all,So much as to callFor Canary.
Along, come along,Let's meet in a throngHere of tinkers;And quaff up a bowlAs big as a cowlTo beer drinkers.The pole of the hopPlace in the aleshopTo bethwack us,If ever we thinkSo much as to drinkUnto Bacchus.Who frolic will beFor little cost, heMust not varyFrom beer-broth at all,So much as to callFor Canary.
Along, come along,Let's meet in a throngHere of tinkers;And quaff up a bowlAs big as a cowlTo beer drinkers.The pole of the hopPlace in the aleshopTo bethwack us,If ever we thinkSo much as to drinkUnto Bacchus.Who frolic will beFor little cost, heMust not varyFrom beer-broth at all,So much as to callFor Canary.
The only comfort of my lifeIs, that I never yet had wife;Nor will hereafter; since I knowWho weds, o'er-buys his weal with woe
The only comfort of my lifeIs, that I never yet had wife;Nor will hereafter; since I knowWho weds, o'er-buys his weal with woe
The only comfort of my lifeIs, that I never yet had wife;Nor will hereafter; since I knowWho weds, o'er-buys his weal with woe
Wash clean the vessel, lest ye sourWhatever liquor in ye pour.
Wash clean the vessel, lest ye sourWhatever liquor in ye pour.
Wash clean the vessel, lest ye sourWhatever liquor in ye pour.
Sick is Anthea, sickly is the spring,The primrose sick, and sickly everything;The while my dear Anthea does but droop,The tulips, lilies, daffodils do stoop:But when again she's got her healthful hour,Each bending then will rise a proper flower.
Sick is Anthea, sickly is the spring,The primrose sick, and sickly everything;The while my dear Anthea does but droop,The tulips, lilies, daffodils do stoop:But when again she's got her healthful hour,Each bending then will rise a proper flower.
Sick is Anthea, sickly is the spring,The primrose sick, and sickly everything;The while my dear Anthea does but droop,The tulips, lilies, daffodils do stoop:But when again she's got her healthful hour,Each bending then will rise a proper flower.
Now, if you love me, tell me,For as I will not sell ye,So not one cross to buy theeI'll give, if thou deny me.
Now, if you love me, tell me,For as I will not sell ye,So not one cross to buy theeI'll give, if thou deny me.
Now, if you love me, tell me,For as I will not sell ye,So not one cross to buy theeI'll give, if thou deny me.
Cross, a coin.
Since shed or cottage I have none,I sing the more, that thou hast oneTo whose glad threshold, and free door,I may a poet come, though poor,And eat with thee a savoury bit,Paying but common thanks for it.Yet should I chance, my Wicks, to seeAn over-leaven look in thee,To sour the bread, and turn the beerTo an exalted vinegar:Or should'st thou prize me as a dishOf thrice-boiled worts, or third-day's fish;I'd rather hungry go and come,Than to thy house be burdensome;Yet, in my depth of grief, I'd beOne that should drop his beads for thee.
Since shed or cottage I have none,I sing the more, that thou hast oneTo whose glad threshold, and free door,I may a poet come, though poor,And eat with thee a savoury bit,Paying but common thanks for it.Yet should I chance, my Wicks, to seeAn over-leaven look in thee,To sour the bread, and turn the beerTo an exalted vinegar:Or should'st thou prize me as a dishOf thrice-boiled worts, or third-day's fish;I'd rather hungry go and come,Than to thy house be burdensome;Yet, in my depth of grief, I'd beOne that should drop his beads for thee.
Since shed or cottage I have none,I sing the more, that thou hast oneTo whose glad threshold, and free door,I may a poet come, though poor,And eat with thee a savoury bit,Paying but common thanks for it.Yet should I chance, my Wicks, to seeAn over-leaven look in thee,To sour the bread, and turn the beerTo an exalted vinegar:Or should'st thou prize me as a dishOf thrice-boiled worts, or third-day's fish;I'd rather hungry go and come,Than to thy house be burdensome;Yet, in my depth of grief, I'd beOne that should drop his beads for thee.
Worts, cabbages.Drop his beads,i.e., pray.
Who may do most, does least: the bravest willShow mercy there, where they have power to kill.
Who may do most, does least: the bravest willShow mercy there, where they have power to kill.
Who may do most, does least: the bravest willShow mercy there, where they have power to kill.
Die ere long, I'm sure, I shall;After leaves, the tree must fall.
Die ere long, I'm sure, I shall;After leaves, the tree must fall.
Die ere long, I'm sure, I shall;After leaves, the tree must fall.
For truth I may this sentence tell,No man dies ill, that liveth well.
For truth I may this sentence tell,No man dies ill, that liveth well.
For truth I may this sentence tell,No man dies ill, that liveth well.
Who plants an olive, but to eat the oil?Reward, we know, is the chief end of toil.
Who plants an olive, but to eat the oil?Reward, we know, is the chief end of toil.
Who plants an olive, but to eat the oil?Reward, we know, is the chief end of toil.
This is my comfort when she's most unkind:She can but spoil me of my means, not mind.
This is my comfort when she's most unkind:She can but spoil me of my means, not mind.
This is my comfort when she's most unkind:She can but spoil me of my means, not mind.
I have my laurel chaplet on my headIf, 'mongst these many numbers to be read,But one by you be hugg'd and cherished.Peruse my measures thoroughly, and whereYour judgment finds a guilty poem, thereBe you a judge; but not a judge severe.The mean pass by, or over, none contemn;The good applaud; the peccant less condemn,Since absolution you can give to them.Stand forth, brave man, here to the public sight;And in my book now claim a twofold right:The first as doctor, and the last as knight.
I have my laurel chaplet on my headIf, 'mongst these many numbers to be read,But one by you be hugg'd and cherished.Peruse my measures thoroughly, and whereYour judgment finds a guilty poem, thereBe you a judge; but not a judge severe.The mean pass by, or over, none contemn;The good applaud; the peccant less condemn,Since absolution you can give to them.Stand forth, brave man, here to the public sight;And in my book now claim a twofold right:The first as doctor, and the last as knight.
I have my laurel chaplet on my headIf, 'mongst these many numbers to be read,But one by you be hugg'd and cherished.
Peruse my measures thoroughly, and whereYour judgment finds a guilty poem, thereBe you a judge; but not a judge severe.
The mean pass by, or over, none contemn;The good applaud; the peccant less condemn,Since absolution you can give to them.
Stand forth, brave man, here to the public sight;And in my book now claim a twofold right:The first as doctor, and the last as knight.
This I'll tell ye by the way:Maidens, when ye leavens lay,Cross your dough, and your dispatchWill be better for your batch.
This I'll tell ye by the way:Maidens, when ye leavens lay,Cross your dough, and your dispatchWill be better for your batch.
This I'll tell ye by the way:Maidens, when ye leavens lay,Cross your dough, and your dispatchWill be better for your batch.
In the morning when ye rise,Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes.Next be sure ye have a careTo disperse the water far;For as far as that doth light,So far keeps the evil sprite.
In the morning when ye rise,Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes.Next be sure ye have a careTo disperse the water far;For as far as that doth light,So far keeps the evil sprite.
In the morning when ye rise,Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes.Next be sure ye have a careTo disperse the water far;For as far as that doth light,So far keeps the evil sprite.
If ye fear to be affrightedWhen ye are by chance benighted,In your pocket for a trustCarry nothing but a crust:For that holy piece of breadCharms the danger and the dread.
If ye fear to be affrightedWhen ye are by chance benighted,In your pocket for a trustCarry nothing but a crust:For that holy piece of breadCharms the danger and the dread.
If ye fear to be affrightedWhen ye are by chance benighted,In your pocket for a trustCarry nothing but a crust:For that holy piece of breadCharms the danger and the dread.
That prince must govern with a gentle handWho will have love comply with his command.
That prince must govern with a gentle handWho will have love comply with his command.
That prince must govern with a gentle handWho will have love comply with his command.
Her.My dearest love, since thou wilt go,And leave me here behind thee,For love or pity let me knowThe place where I may find thee.Ama.In country meadows pearl'd with dew,And set about with lilies,There, filling maunds with cowslips, youMay find your Amaryllis.Her.What have the meads to do with thee,Or with thy youthful hours?Live thou at Court, where thou mayst beThe queen of men, not flowers.Let country wenches make 'em fineWith posies, since 'tis fitterFor thee with richest gems to shine,And like the stars to glitter.Ama.You set too high a rate uponA shepherdess so homely.Her.Believe it, dearest, there's not oneI' th' Court that's half so comely.I prithee stay.Ama.I must away;Let's kiss first, then we'll sever.Ambo.And though we bid adieu to-day,We shall not part for ever.
Her.My dearest love, since thou wilt go,And leave me here behind thee,For love or pity let me knowThe place where I may find thee.Ama.In country meadows pearl'd with dew,And set about with lilies,There, filling maunds with cowslips, youMay find your Amaryllis.Her.What have the meads to do with thee,Or with thy youthful hours?Live thou at Court, where thou mayst beThe queen of men, not flowers.Let country wenches make 'em fineWith posies, since 'tis fitterFor thee with richest gems to shine,And like the stars to glitter.Ama.You set too high a rate uponA shepherdess so homely.Her.Believe it, dearest, there's not oneI' th' Court that's half so comely.I prithee stay.Ama.I must away;Let's kiss first, then we'll sever.Ambo.And though we bid adieu to-day,We shall not part for ever.
Her.My dearest love, since thou wilt go,And leave me here behind thee,For love or pity let me knowThe place where I may find thee.
Ama.In country meadows pearl'd with dew,And set about with lilies,There, filling maunds with cowslips, youMay find your Amaryllis.
Her.What have the meads to do with thee,Or with thy youthful hours?Live thou at Court, where thou mayst beThe queen of men, not flowers.
Let country wenches make 'em fineWith posies, since 'tis fitterFor thee with richest gems to shine,And like the stars to glitter.
Ama.You set too high a rate uponA shepherdess so homely.Her.Believe it, dearest, there's not oneI' th' Court that's half so comely.
I prithee stay.Ama.I must away;Let's kiss first, then we'll sever.Ambo.And though we bid adieu to-day,We shall not part for ever.
Maunds, baskets.
Help me, Julia, for to pray,Matins sing, or matins say:This, I know, the fiend will flyFar away, if thou be'st by.Bring the holy water hither,Let us wash and pray together;When our beads are thus united,Then the foe will fly affrighted.
Help me, Julia, for to pray,Matins sing, or matins say:This, I know, the fiend will flyFar away, if thou be'st by.Bring the holy water hither,Let us wash and pray together;When our beads are thus united,Then the foe will fly affrighted.
Help me, Julia, for to pray,Matins sing, or matins say:This, I know, the fiend will flyFar away, if thou be'st by.Bring the holy water hither,Let us wash and pray together;When our beads are thus united,Then the foe will fly affrighted.
Beads, prayers.
Roses, you can never die,Since the place wherein ye lie,Heat and moisture mix'd are soAs to make ye ever grow.
Roses, you can never die,Since the place wherein ye lie,Heat and moisture mix'd are soAs to make ye ever grow.
Roses, you can never die,Since the place wherein ye lie,Heat and moisture mix'd are soAs to make ye ever grow.
When to thy porch I come and ravish'd seeThe state of poets there attending thee,Those bards and I, all in a chorus sing:We are thy prophets, Porter, thou our king.
When to thy porch I come and ravish'd seeThe state of poets there attending thee,Those bards and I, all in a chorus sing:We are thy prophets, Porter, thou our king.
When to thy porch I come and ravish'd seeThe state of poets there attending thee,Those bards and I, all in a chorus sing:We are thy prophets, Porter, thou our king.
When times are troubled, then forbear; but speakWhen a clear day out of a cloud does break.
When times are troubled, then forbear; but speakWhen a clear day out of a cloud does break.
When times are troubled, then forbear; but speakWhen a clear day out of a cloud does break.
The power of princes rests in the consentOf only those who are obedient:Which if away, proud sceptres then will lieLow, and of thrones the ancient majesty.
The power of princes rests in the consentOf only those who are obedient:Which if away, proud sceptres then will lieLow, and of thrones the ancient majesty.
The power of princes rests in the consentOf only those who are obedient:Which if away, proud sceptres then will lieLow, and of thrones the ancient majesty.
No man so well a kingdom rules as heWho hath himself obeyed the sovereignty.
No man so well a kingdom rules as heWho hath himself obeyed the sovereignty.
No man so well a kingdom rules as heWho hath himself obeyed the sovereignty.
1. Instruct me now what love will do.2. 'Twill make a tongueless man to woo.1. Inform me next, what love will do.2. 'Twill strangely make a one of two.1. Teach me besides, what love will do.2. 'Twill quickly mar, and make ye too.1. Tell me now last, what love will do.2. 'Twill hurt and heal a heart pierc'd through.
1. Instruct me now what love will do.2. 'Twill make a tongueless man to woo.1. Inform me next, what love will do.2. 'Twill strangely make a one of two.1. Teach me besides, what love will do.2. 'Twill quickly mar, and make ye too.1. Tell me now last, what love will do.2. 'Twill hurt and heal a heart pierc'd through.
1. Instruct me now what love will do.2. 'Twill make a tongueless man to woo.1. Inform me next, what love will do.2. 'Twill strangely make a one of two.1. Teach me besides, what love will do.2. 'Twill quickly mar, and make ye too.1. Tell me now last, what love will do.2. 'Twill hurt and heal a heart pierc'd through.
Trap of a player turn'd a priest now is:Behold a sudden metamorphosis.If tithe-pigs fail, then will he shift the scene,And from a priest turn player once again.
Trap of a player turn'd a priest now is:Behold a sudden metamorphosis.If tithe-pigs fail, then will he shift the scene,And from a priest turn player once again.
Trap of a player turn'd a priest now is:Behold a sudden metamorphosis.If tithe-pigs fail, then will he shift the scene,And from a priest turn player once again.
Whether I was myself, or else did seeOut of myself that glorious hierarchy;Or whether those, in orders rare, or theseMade up one state of sixty Venuses;Or whether fairies, syrens, nymphs they were,Or muses on their mountain sitting there;Or some enchanted place, I do not know,Or Sharon, where eternal roses grow.This I am sure: I ravished stood, as oneConfus'd in utter admiration.Methought I saw them stir, and gently move,And look as all were capable of love;And in their motion smelt much like to flowersInspir'd by th' sunbeams after dews and showers.There did I see the reverend rectress stand,Who with her eye's gleam, or a glance of hand,Those spirits raised; and with like precepts then,As with a magic, laid them all again.A happy realm! When no compulsive law,Or fear of it, but love keeps all in awe.Live you, great mistress of your arts, and beA nursing mother so to majesty,As those your ladies may in time be seen,For grace and carriage, everyone a queen.One birth their parents gave them; but their new,And better being, they receive from you.Man's former birth is graceless; but the stateOf life comes in, when he's regenerate.
Whether I was myself, or else did seeOut of myself that glorious hierarchy;Or whether those, in orders rare, or theseMade up one state of sixty Venuses;Or whether fairies, syrens, nymphs they were,Or muses on their mountain sitting there;Or some enchanted place, I do not know,Or Sharon, where eternal roses grow.This I am sure: I ravished stood, as oneConfus'd in utter admiration.Methought I saw them stir, and gently move,And look as all were capable of love;And in their motion smelt much like to flowersInspir'd by th' sunbeams after dews and showers.There did I see the reverend rectress stand,Who with her eye's gleam, or a glance of hand,Those spirits raised; and with like precepts then,As with a magic, laid them all again.A happy realm! When no compulsive law,Or fear of it, but love keeps all in awe.Live you, great mistress of your arts, and beA nursing mother so to majesty,As those your ladies may in time be seen,For grace and carriage, everyone a queen.One birth their parents gave them; but their new,And better being, they receive from you.Man's former birth is graceless; but the stateOf life comes in, when he's regenerate.
Whether I was myself, or else did seeOut of myself that glorious hierarchy;Or whether those, in orders rare, or theseMade up one state of sixty Venuses;Or whether fairies, syrens, nymphs they were,Or muses on their mountain sitting there;Or some enchanted place, I do not know,Or Sharon, where eternal roses grow.This I am sure: I ravished stood, as oneConfus'd in utter admiration.Methought I saw them stir, and gently move,And look as all were capable of love;And in their motion smelt much like to flowersInspir'd by th' sunbeams after dews and showers.There did I see the reverend rectress stand,Who with her eye's gleam, or a glance of hand,Those spirits raised; and with like precepts then,As with a magic, laid them all again.A happy realm! When no compulsive law,Or fear of it, but love keeps all in awe.Live you, great mistress of your arts, and beA nursing mother so to majesty,As those your ladies may in time be seen,For grace and carriage, everyone a queen.One birth their parents gave them; but their new,And better being, they receive from you.Man's former birth is graceless; but the stateOf life comes in, when he's regenerate.
Thou say'st I'm dull; if edgeless so I be,I'll whet my lips, and sharpen love on thee.
Thou say'st I'm dull; if edgeless so I be,I'll whet my lips, and sharpen love on thee.
Thou say'st I'm dull; if edgeless so I be,I'll whet my lips, and sharpen love on thee.
Let me not live if I not love:Since I as yet did never proveWhere pleasures met, at last do findAll pleasures meet in womankind.
Let me not live if I not love:Since I as yet did never proveWhere pleasures met, at last do findAll pleasures meet in womankind.
Let me not live if I not love:Since I as yet did never proveWhere pleasures met, at last do findAll pleasures meet in womankind.
That love 'twixt men does ever longest lastWhere war and peace the dice by turns do cast.
That love 'twixt men does ever longest lastWhere war and peace the dice by turns do cast.
That love 'twixt men does ever longest lastWhere war and peace the dice by turns do cast.
Love's of itself too sweet; the best of allIs, when love's honey has a dash of gall.
Love's of itself too sweet; the best of allIs, when love's honey has a dash of gall.
Love's of itself too sweet; the best of allIs, when love's honey has a dash of gall.
When Chub brings in his harvest, still he cries,"Aha, my boys! here's meat for Christmas pies!"Soon after he for beer so scores his wheat,That at the tide he has not bread to eat.
When Chub brings in his harvest, still he cries,"Aha, my boys! here's meat for Christmas pies!"Soon after he for beer so scores his wheat,That at the tide he has not bread to eat.
When Chub brings in his harvest, still he cries,"Aha, my boys! here's meat for Christmas pies!"Soon after he for beer so scores his wheat,That at the tide he has not bread to eat.
Where pleasures rule a kingdom, never thereIs sober virtue seen to move her sphere.
Where pleasures rule a kingdom, never thereIs sober virtue seen to move her sphere.
Where pleasures rule a kingdom, never thereIs sober virtue seen to move her sphere.
A wearied pilgrim, I have wandered hereTwice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;Long I have lasted in this world, 'tis true,But yet those years that I have lived, but few.Who by his grey hairs doth his lusters tell,Lives not those years, but he that lives them well.One man has reach'd his sixty years, but heOf all those threescore, has not liv'd half three.He lives, who lives to virtue; men who castTheir ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.
A wearied pilgrim, I have wandered hereTwice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;Long I have lasted in this world, 'tis true,But yet those years that I have lived, but few.Who by his grey hairs doth his lusters tell,Lives not those years, but he that lives them well.One man has reach'd his sixty years, but heOf all those threescore, has not liv'd half three.He lives, who lives to virtue; men who castTheir ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.
A wearied pilgrim, I have wandered hereTwice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;Long I have lasted in this world, 'tis true,But yet those years that I have lived, but few.Who by his grey hairs doth his lusters tell,Lives not those years, but he that lives them well.One man has reach'd his sixty years, but heOf all those threescore, has not liv'd half three.He lives, who lives to virtue; men who castTheir ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.
Luster, five years.
Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there beA 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!
Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there beA 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!
Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there beA 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!
Why dost thou wound and break my heart,As if we should for ever part?Hast thou not heard an oath from me,After a day, or two, or three,I would come back and live with thee?Take, if thou dost distrust that vow,This second protestation now.Upon thy cheek that spangled tear,Which sits as dew of roses there,That tear shall scarce be dried beforeI'll kiss the threshold of thy door.Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know,I'm half return'd before I go.
Why dost thou wound and break my heart,As if we should for ever part?Hast thou not heard an oath from me,After a day, or two, or three,I would come back and live with thee?Take, if thou dost distrust that vow,This second protestation now.Upon thy cheek that spangled tear,Which sits as dew of roses there,That tear shall scarce be dried beforeI'll kiss the threshold of thy door.Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know,I'm half return'd before I go.
Why dost thou wound and break my heart,As if we should for ever part?Hast thou not heard an oath from me,After a day, or two, or three,I would come back and live with thee?Take, if thou dost distrust that vow,This second protestation now.Upon thy cheek that spangled tear,Which sits as dew of roses there,That tear shall scarce be dried beforeI'll kiss the threshold of thy door.Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know,I'm half return'd before I go.
I will no longer kiss,I can no longer stay;The way of all flesh isThat I must go this day.Since longer I can't live,My frolic youths, adieu;My lamp to you I'll give,And all my troubles too.
I will no longer kiss,I can no longer stay;The way of all flesh isThat I must go this day.Since longer I can't live,My frolic youths, adieu;My lamp to you I'll give,And all my troubles too.
I will no longer kiss,I can no longer stay;The way of all flesh isThat I must go this day.Since longer I can't live,My frolic youths, adieu;My lamp to you I'll give,And all my troubles too.
Nor think that thou in this my book art worst,Because not plac'd here with the midst, or first.Since fame that sides with these, or goes beforeThose, that must live with thee for evermore;That fame, and fame's rear'd pillar, thou shalt seeIn the next sheet, brave man, to follow thee.Fix on that column then, and never fall,Held up by Fame's eternal pedestal.
Nor think that thou in this my book art worst,Because not plac'd here with the midst, or first.Since fame that sides with these, or goes beforeThose, that must live with thee for evermore;That fame, and fame's rear'd pillar, thou shalt seeIn the next sheet, brave man, to follow thee.Fix on that column then, and never fall,Held up by Fame's eternal pedestal.
Nor think that thou in this my book art worst,Because not plac'd here with the midst, or first.Since fame that sides with these, or goes beforeThose, that must live with thee for evermore;That fame, and fame's rear'd pillar, thou shalt seeIn the next sheet, brave man, to follow thee.Fix on that column then, and never fall,Held up by Fame's eternal pedestal.
In the next sheet.See1129.
Alas! I can't, for tell me, howCan I be gamesome, aged now?Besides, ye see me daily growHere, winter-like, to frost and snow;And I, ere long, my girls, shall seeYe quake for cold to look on me.
Alas! I can't, for tell me, howCan I be gamesome, aged now?Besides, ye see me daily growHere, winter-like, to frost and snow;And I, ere long, my girls, shall seeYe quake for cold to look on me.
Alas! I can't, for tell me, howCan I be gamesome, aged now?Besides, ye see me daily growHere, winter-like, to frost and snow;And I, ere long, my girls, shall seeYe quake for cold to look on me.
Truth by her own simplicity is known,Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.
Truth by her own simplicity is known,Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.
Truth by her own simplicity is known,Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.
I have been wanton and too bold, I fear,To chafe o'ermuch the virgin's cheek or ear.Beg for my pardon, Julia:he doth winGrace with the gods who's sorry for his sin.That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, comeAnd go with me to choose my burial room:My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies,Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes.
I have been wanton and too bold, I fear,To chafe o'ermuch the virgin's cheek or ear.Beg for my pardon, Julia:he doth winGrace with the gods who's sorry for his sin.That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, comeAnd go with me to choose my burial room:My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies,Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes.
I have been wanton and too bold, I fear,To chafe o'ermuch the virgin's cheek or ear.Beg for my pardon, Julia:he doth winGrace with the gods who's sorry for his sin.That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, comeAnd go with me to choose my burial room:My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies,Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes.
One ear tingles; some there beThat are snarling now at me:Be they those that Homer bit,I will give them thanks for it.
One ear tingles; some there beThat are snarling now at me:Be they those that Homer bit,I will give them thanks for it.
One ear tingles; some there beThat are snarling now at me:Be they those that Homer bit,I will give them thanks for it.
Kings must be dauntless; subjects will contemnThose who want hearts and wear a diadem.
Kings must be dauntless; subjects will contemnThose who want hearts and wear a diadem.
Kings must be dauntless; subjects will contemnThose who want hearts and wear a diadem.
Wanton wenches, do not bringFor my hairs black colouring:For my locks, girls, let 'em beGrey or white, all's one to me.
Wanton wenches, do not bringFor my hairs black colouring:For my locks, girls, let 'em beGrey or white, all's one to me.
Wanton wenches, do not bringFor my hairs black colouring:For my locks, girls, let 'em beGrey or white, all's one to me.
What others have with cheapness seen and easeIn varnish'd maps, by th' help of compasses,Or read in volumes and those books with allTheir large narrations incanonical,Thou hast beheld those seas and countries far,And tell'st to us what once they were, and are.So that with bold truth thou can'st now relateThis kingdom's fortune, and that empire's fate:Can'st talk to us of Sharon, where a springOf roses have an endless flourishing;Of Sion, Sinai, Nebo, and with themMake known to us the new Jerusalem;The Mount of Olives, Calvary, and whereIs, and hast seen, thy Saviour's sepulchre.So that the man that will but lay his earsAs inapostate to the thing he hears,Shall by his hearing quickly come to seeThe truth of travels less in books than thee.
What others have with cheapness seen and easeIn varnish'd maps, by th' help of compasses,Or read in volumes and those books with allTheir large narrations incanonical,Thou hast beheld those seas and countries far,And tell'st to us what once they were, and are.So that with bold truth thou can'st now relateThis kingdom's fortune, and that empire's fate:Can'st talk to us of Sharon, where a springOf roses have an endless flourishing;Of Sion, Sinai, Nebo, and with themMake known to us the new Jerusalem;The Mount of Olives, Calvary, and whereIs, and hast seen, thy Saviour's sepulchre.So that the man that will but lay his earsAs inapostate to the thing he hears,Shall by his hearing quickly come to seeThe truth of travels less in books than thee.
What others have with cheapness seen and easeIn varnish'd maps, by th' help of compasses,Or read in volumes and those books with allTheir large narrations incanonical,Thou hast beheld those seas and countries far,And tell'st to us what once they were, and are.So that with bold truth thou can'st now relateThis kingdom's fortune, and that empire's fate:Can'st talk to us of Sharon, where a springOf roses have an endless flourishing;Of Sion, Sinai, Nebo, and with themMake known to us the new Jerusalem;The Mount of Olives, Calvary, and whereIs, and hast seen, thy Saviour's sepulchre.So that the man that will but lay his earsAs inapostate to the thing he hears,Shall by his hearing quickly come to seeThe truth of travels less in books than thee.
Large, exaggerated.Incanonical, untrustworthy.
Rare is the voice itself: but when we singTo th' lute or viol, then 'tis ravishing.
Rare is the voice itself: but when we singTo th' lute or viol, then 'tis ravishing.
Rare is the voice itself: but when we singTo th' lute or viol, then 'tis ravishing.
If kings and kingdoms once distracted be,The sword of war must try the sovereignty
If kings and kingdoms once distracted be,The sword of war must try the sovereignty
If kings and kingdoms once distracted be,The sword of war must try the sovereignty
That prince who may do nothing but what's just,Rules but by leave, and takes his crown on trust.
That prince who may do nothing but what's just,Rules but by leave, and takes his crown on trust.
That prince who may do nothing but what's just,Rules but by leave, and takes his crown on trust.
All are not ill plots that do sometimes fail;Nor those false vows which ofttimes don't prevail.
All are not ill plots that do sometimes fail;Nor those false vows which ofttimes don't prevail.
All are not ill plots that do sometimes fail;Nor those false vows which ofttimes don't prevail.
What is't that wastes a prince? example shows,'Tis flattery spends a king, more than his foes.
What is't that wastes a prince? example shows,'Tis flattery spends a king, more than his foes.
What is't that wastes a prince? example shows,'Tis flattery spends a king, more than his foes.
Excess is sluttish: keep the mean; for why?Virtue's clean conclave is sobriety.
Excess is sluttish: keep the mean; for why?Virtue's clean conclave is sobriety.
Excess is sluttish: keep the mean; for why?Virtue's clean conclave is sobriety.
Conclave, guard.
The body's salt the soul is; which when gone,The flesh soon sucks in putrefaction.
The body's salt the soul is; which when gone,The flesh soon sucks in putrefaction.
The body's salt the soul is; which when gone,The flesh soon sucks in putrefaction.
Against diseases here the strongest fenceIs the defensive virtue, abstinence.
Against diseases here the strongest fenceIs the defensive virtue, abstinence.
Against diseases here the strongest fenceIs the defensive virtue, abstinence.
When fear admits no hope of safety, thenNecessity makes dastards valiant men.
When fear admits no hope of safety, thenNecessity makes dastards valiant men.
When fear admits no hope of safety, thenNecessity makes dastards valiant men.
Although our suffering meet with no relief,An equal mind is the best sauce for grief.
Although our suffering meet with no relief,An equal mind is the best sauce for grief.
Although our suffering meet with no relief,An equal mind is the best sauce for grief.
I have a leaden, thou a shaft of gold;Thou kill'st with heat, and I strike dead with cold.Let's try of us who shall the first expire;Or thou by frost, or I by quenchless fire:Extremes are fatal where they once do strike,And bring to th' heart destruction both alike.
I have a leaden, thou a shaft of gold;Thou kill'st with heat, and I strike dead with cold.Let's try of us who shall the first expire;Or thou by frost, or I by quenchless fire:Extremes are fatal where they once do strike,And bring to th' heart destruction both alike.
I have a leaden, thou a shaft of gold;Thou kill'st with heat, and I strike dead with cold.Let's try of us who shall the first expire;Or thou by frost, or I by quenchless fire:Extremes are fatal where they once do strike,And bring to th' heart destruction both alike.
Whatever men for loyalty pretend,'Tis wisdom's part to doubt a faithful friend.
Whatever men for loyalty pretend,'Tis wisdom's part to doubt a faithful friend.
Whatever men for loyalty pretend,'Tis wisdom's part to doubt a faithful friend.
After thy labour take thine ease,Here with the sweet Pierides.But if so be that men will notGive thee the laurel crown for lot;Be yet assur'd, thou shall have oneNot subject to corruption.
After thy labour take thine ease,Here with the sweet Pierides.But if so be that men will notGive thee the laurel crown for lot;Be yet assur'd, thou shall have oneNot subject to corruption.
After thy labour take thine ease,Here with the sweet Pierides.But if so be that men will notGive thee the laurel crown for lot;Be yet assur'd, thou shall have oneNot subject to corruption.
I'll write no more of love; but now repentOf all those times that I in it have spent.I'll write no more of life; but wish 'twas ended,And that my dust was to the earth commended.
I'll write no more of love; but now repentOf all those times that I in it have spent.I'll write no more of life; but wish 'twas ended,And that my dust was to the earth commended.
I'll write no more of love; but now repentOf all those times that I in it have spent.I'll write no more of life; but wish 'twas ended,And that my dust was to the earth commended.
Go thou forth, my book, though late:Yet be timely fortunate.It may chance good luck may sendThee a kinsman, or a friend,That may harbour thee, when IWith my fates neglected lie.If thou know'st not where to dwell,See, the fire's by: farewell.
Go thou forth, my book, though late:Yet be timely fortunate.It may chance good luck may sendThee a kinsman, or a friend,That may harbour thee, when IWith my fates neglected lie.If thou know'st not where to dwell,See, the fire's by: farewell.
Go thou forth, my book, though late:Yet be timely fortunate.It may chance good luck may sendThee a kinsman, or a friend,That may harbour thee, when IWith my fates neglected lie.If thou know'st not where to dwell,See, the fire's by: farewell.
Part of the work remains; one part is past:And here my ship rides, having anchor cast.
Part of the work remains; one part is past:And here my ship rides, having anchor cast.
Part of the work remains; one part is past:And here my ship rides, having anchor cast.
My wearied bark, O let it now be crown'd!The haven reach'd to which I first was bound.
My wearied bark, O let it now be crown'd!The haven reach'd to which I first was bound.
My wearied bark, O let it now be crown'd!The haven reach'd to which I first was bound.
The work is done: young men and maidens, setUpon my curls the myrtle coronetWashed with sweet ointments: thus at last I comeTo suffer in the Muses' martyrdom;But with this comfort, if my blood be shed,The Muses will wear blacks when I am dead.
The work is done: young men and maidens, setUpon my curls the myrtle coronetWashed with sweet ointments: thus at last I comeTo suffer in the Muses' martyrdom;But with this comfort, if my blood be shed,The Muses will wear blacks when I am dead.
The work is done: young men and maidens, setUpon my curls the myrtle coronetWashed with sweet ointments: thus at last I comeTo suffer in the Muses' martyrdom;But with this comfort, if my blood be shed,The Muses will wear blacks when I am dead.
Blacks, mourning garments.
Fame's pillar here, at last, we set,Outduring marble, brass, or jet.Charm'd and enchanted soAs to withstand the blowO f o v e r t h r o w;Nor shall the seas,O r o u t r a g e sOf storms o'erbearWhat we uprear.Tho' kingdoms fall,This pillar never shallDecline or waste at all;But stand for ever by his ownFirm and well-fix'd foundation.
Fame's pillar here, at last, we set,Outduring marble, brass, or jet.Charm'd and enchanted soAs to withstand the blowO f o v e r t h r o w;Nor shall the seas,O r o u t r a g e sOf storms o'erbearWhat we uprear.Tho' kingdoms fall,This pillar never shallDecline or waste at all;But stand for ever by his ownFirm and well-fix'd foundation.
Fame's pillar here, at last, we set,Outduring marble, brass, or jet.Charm'd and enchanted soAs to withstand the blowO f o v e r t h r o w;Nor shall the seas,O r o u t r a g e sOf storms o'erbearWhat we uprear.Tho' kingdoms fall,This pillar never shallDecline or waste at all;But stand for ever by his ownFirm and well-fix'd foundation.
To his book's end this last line he'd have placed:Jocund his muse was, but his life was chaste.
To his book's end this last line he'd have placed:Jocund his muse was, but his life was chaste.
To his book's end this last line he'd have placed:Jocund his muse was, but his life was chaste.
Look how our foul days do exceed our fair;And as our bad, more than our good works are,E'en so those lines, pen'd by my wanton wit,Treble the number of these good I've writ.Things precious are least numerous: men are proneTo do ten bad for one good action.
Look how our foul days do exceed our fair;And as our bad, more than our good works are,E'en so those lines, pen'd by my wanton wit,Treble the number of these good I've writ.Things precious are least numerous: men are proneTo do ten bad for one good action.
Look how our foul days do exceed our fair;And as our bad, more than our good works are,E'en so those lines, pen'd by my wanton wit,Treble the number of these good I've writ.Things precious are least numerous: men are proneTo do ten bad for one good action.
For those my unbaptised rhymes,Writ in my wild unhallowed times;For every sentence, clause, and word,That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord,Forgive me, God, and blot each lineOut of my book that is not Thine.But if, 'mongst all, thou find'st here oneWorthy Thy benediction;That one of all the rest shall beThe glory of my work and me.
For those my unbaptised rhymes,Writ in my wild unhallowed times;For every sentence, clause, and word,That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord,Forgive me, God, and blot each lineOut of my book that is not Thine.But if, 'mongst all, thou find'st here oneWorthy Thy benediction;That one of all the rest shall beThe glory of my work and me.
For those my unbaptised rhymes,Writ in my wild unhallowed times;For every sentence, clause, and word,That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord,Forgive me, God, and blot each lineOut of my book that is not Thine.But if, 'mongst all, thou find'st here oneWorthy Thy benediction;That one of all the rest shall beThe glory of my work and me.
Weigh me the fire; or canst thou findA way to measure out the wind;Distinguish all those floods that areMix'd in that watery theatre;And taste thou them as saltless thereAs in their channel first they were.Tell me the people that do keepWithin the kingdoms of the deep;Or fetch me back that cloud againBeshiver'd into seeds of rain;Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spearsOf corn, when summer shakes his ears;Show me that world of stars, and whenceThey noiseless spill their influence:This if thou canst, then show me HimThat rides the glorious cherubim.
Weigh me the fire; or canst thou findA way to measure out the wind;Distinguish all those floods that areMix'd in that watery theatre;And taste thou them as saltless thereAs in their channel first they were.Tell me the people that do keepWithin the kingdoms of the deep;Or fetch me back that cloud againBeshiver'd into seeds of rain;Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spearsOf corn, when summer shakes his ears;Show me that world of stars, and whenceThey noiseless spill their influence:This if thou canst, then show me HimThat rides the glorious cherubim.
Weigh me the fire; or canst thou findA way to measure out the wind;Distinguish all those floods that areMix'd in that watery theatre;And taste thou them as saltless thereAs in their channel first they were.Tell me the people that do keepWithin the kingdoms of the deep;Or fetch me back that cloud againBeshiver'd into seeds of rain;Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spearsOf corn, when summer shakes his ears;Show me that world of stars, and whenceThey noiseless spill their influence:This if thou canst, then show me HimThat rides the glorious cherubim.
Keep, abide.
God is above the sphere of our esteem,And is the best known, not defining Him.
God is above the sphere of our esteem,And is the best known, not defining Him.
God is above the sphere of our esteem,And is the best known, not defining Him.
God is not only said to beAn Ens, but Supraentity.
God is not only said to beAn Ens, but Supraentity.
God is not only said to beAn Ens, but Supraentity.
God hath two wings which He doth ever move;The one is mercy, and the next is love:Under the first the sinners ever trust;And with the last He still directs the just.
God hath two wings which He doth ever move;The one is mercy, and the next is love:Under the first the sinners ever trust;And with the last He still directs the just.
God hath two wings which He doth ever move;The one is mercy, and the next is love:Under the first the sinners ever trust;And with the last He still directs the just.
God when He's angry here with anyone,His wrath is free from perturbation;And when we think His looks are sour and grim,The alteration is in us, not Him.
God when He's angry here with anyone,His wrath is free from perturbation;And when we think His looks are sour and grim,The alteration is in us, not Him.
God when He's angry here with anyone,His wrath is free from perturbation;And when we think His looks are sour and grim,The alteration is in us, not Him.
'Tis hard to find God, but to comprehendHim, as He is, is labour without end.
'Tis hard to find God, but to comprehendHim, as He is, is labour without end.
'Tis hard to find God, but to comprehendHim, as He is, is labour without end.