#Renaissance #Epigram
And must I sing? what subject sha… Or whose great name in Poets heav… For the more countenance to my act… Hercules? alas his bones are yet s… With his old earthly labours. T’e…
Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time… Yet slower, yet, O faintly, gentl… List to the heavy part the music b… Woe weeps out her division, when s… Droop herbs and flowers;
RIDWAY robb’d DUNCOTE of thr… Ridway was ta’en, arraign’d, conde… But, for this money, was a courtie… Begg’d Ridway’s pardon: Duncote n… Robb’d both of money, and the law’…
Fine madam Would-Be, wherefore sh… That love to make so well, a child… The world reputes you barren: but… Your 'pothecary, and his drug says… Is it the pain affrights? That’s…
To the Immortal Memory and Frien… Cary and Sir Henry Morison. THE TURN. Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great yea…
From 'Cynthia’s Revels’ Queen and huntress, chaste and fai… Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair,
Why do we lie ‘Why do we lie,’ she questioned, h… on the grey Autumn wind and its co… ‘all afternoon wasted in bed like… ‘Because we cannot lie all night t…
Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Descended to the shore, odd how we… the young girl with us to herself,… straight to examine the stratified… forgot her entirely in our interes… You marvelled at the shapes the cl…
That neither fame nor love might w… To greatness, Cary, I sing that a… Whose house, if it no other honor… In only thee might be both great a… Who, to upbraid the sloth of this…
This morning, timely rapt with hol… I thought to form unto my zealous… What kind of creature I could mos… To honour, serve, and love; as poe… I meant to make her fair, and free…
Playwright, convict of public wron… Takes private beatings and begins… Two kinds of valor he doth show at… Active in ’s brain, and passive in…
Wouldst thou hear what man can say In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die; Which in life did harbor give
Now that the harth is crown’d with… And some do drink, and some do dan… Some ring, Some sing, And all do strive t’advance
It is not growing like a tree in bulk, doth make Man better be; or standing long an oak three hund… to fall a log at last, dry, bald,… A lily of a day