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

HERE a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies: Pray be silent and not stir Th’ easy earth that covers her.

Man is composed here of a twofold… The first of nature, and the next… Art presupposes nature; nature, sh… Prepares the way for man’s docilit…

Truth by her own simplicity is kno… Falsehood by varnish and vermilion…

How Love came in, I do not know, Whether by th’eye, or ear, or no; Or whether with the soul it came, At first, infused with the same; Whether in part ’tis here or there…

Health is the first good lent to m… A gentle disposition then: Next, to be rich by no by-ways; Lastly, with friends t’ enjoy our…

What though the sea be calm? Tru… Ships have been drown’d, where lat…

Frolic virgins once these were, Overloving, living here; Being here their ends denied Ran for sweet-hearts mad, and died… Love, in pity of their tears,

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 the…

Tell, if thou canst, and truly, wh… This camphire, storax, spikenard,… These musks, these ambers, and tho… Sweet as the Vestry of the Oracle… I’ll tell thee:—while my Julia di…

Born I was to be old, And for to die here; After that, in the mould Long for to lie here. But before that day comes,

Here, a little child, I stand, Heaving up my either hand: Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to thee, For a benison to fall

While fates permit us, let’s be me… Pass all we must the fatal ferry; And this our life, too, whirls awa… With the rotation of the day.

Wrinkles no more are, or no less, Than beauty turn’d to sourness.

Come, sit we under yonder tree, Where merry as the maids we’ll be; And as on primroses we sit, We’ll venture, if we can, at wit; If not, at draw-gloves we will pla…