Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I’ll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth…

The Turn Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great yea… When the prodigious Hannibal did… His rage, with razing your immorta…

The owl is abroad, the bat and the… And so is the cat-a mountain, The ant and the mole sit both in a… And frog peeps out o’the fountain; The dogs they do bay, and the timb…

Though beauty be the mark of prais… And yours of whom I sing be such As not the world can praise too mu… Yet ’tis your virtue now I raise. A virtue, like allay, so gone

Though I am young, and cannot tel… Either what Death or Love is well… Yet I have heard they both bear d… And both do aim at human hearts. And then again, I have been told

A farewell for a Gentlewoman, ver… False world, good-night, since tho… That houre upon my morne of age, Hence-forth I quit thee from my t… My part is ended on thy stage.

Thy praise or dispraise is to me a… One doth not stroke me, nor the ot…

Not to know vice at all, and keep… Is virtue and not fate: Next to that virtue, is to know vi… And her black spite expel. Which to effect (since no breast i…

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…

Still to be neat, still to be dres… As you were going to a feast; Still to be powder’d, still perfum… Lady, it is to be presum’d, Though art’s hid causes are not fo…

In all faith, we did our part: generated punctually, prepared ade… ejected promptly, and swam in the approved manner in the appropriate direction;

Why Gentlemen, doe you know what… Would you ha’kept me out? Christm… Christmas of London, and Captaine… Pray you let me be brought before… 'Tis merrie in hall when beards wa…

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on… Am I thus ample to thy book and f… While I confess thy writings to b… As neither man nor muse can praise… 'Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.…

Weep with me, all you that read    This little story; And know for whom a tear you shed,    Death’s self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive

Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever, He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain;