Love’s of itself too sweet; the be… Is, when love’s honey has a dash o…

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here a-while, To blush and gently smile;

Whither dost thou hurry me, Bacchus, being full of thee? This way, that way, that way, this… Here and there a fresh Love is; That doth like me, this doth pleas…

Come pity us, all ye who see Our harps hung on the willow-tree; Come pity us, ye passers-by, Who see or hear poor widows’ cry; Come pity us, and bring your ears

Be the mistress of my choice, Clean in manners, clear in voice; Be she witty, more than wise, Pure enough, though not precise; Be she showing in her dress,

One silent night of late, When every creature rested, Came one unto my gate, And knocking, me molested. Who’s that, said I, beats there,

Twixt truth and error, there’s thi… Error is fruitful, truth is only o…

Praise, they that will, times past… Myself now live; this age best ple…

A SWEET disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness: A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction: An erring lace which here and ther…

Virgins promised when I died, That they would each primrose-tide Duly, morn and evening, come, And with flowers dress my tomb. —Having promised, pay your debts

Holy-Rood, come forth and shield Us i’ th’ city and the field; Safely guard us, now and aye, From the blast that burns by day; And those sounds that us affright

Love is a circle, that doth restle… In the same sweet eternity of Lov…

What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth,

Play, Phoebus, on thy lute, And we will sit all mute; By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire. Hark, hark! the God does play!

When I behold a forest spread With silken trees upon thy head; And when I see that other dress Of flowers set in comeliness; When I behold another grace