#Couplet #EnglishWriters #Epigram
Under an undermined and shot-bruis… A too-bold captain perish’d by the… Whose brave misfortune happiest me… That had a town for tomb, his bone…
Stand still, and I will read to t… A lecture, love, in love’s philoso… These three hours that we have spe… Walking here, two shadows went Along with us, which we ourselves…
When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I… And that thou think’st thee free From all solicitation from me, Then shall my ghost come to thy be… And thee, feign’d vestal, in worse…
He is stark mad, whoever says, That he hath been in love an hour, Yet not that love so soon decays, But that it can ten in less space… Who will believe me, if I swear
O might those sighs and tears retu… Into my breast and eyes, which I… That I might in this holy discont… Mourn with some fruit, as I have… In mine Idolatry what showers of…
Dear love, for nothing less than t… Would I have broke this happy dre… It was a theme For reason, much too strong for fa… Therefore thou wak’d’st me wisely;…
So, so breake off this last lament… Which sucks two soules, and vapour… Turne thou ghost that way, and let… And let our selves benight our hap… We ask’d none leave to love; nor w…
SEND home my long stray’d eyes t… Which, O! too long have dwelt on… Yet since there they have learn’d… Such forced fashions, And false passions,
If poisonous minerals, and if that… Whose fruit threw death on else im… If lecherous goats, if serpents en… Cannot be damn’d, alas, why should… Why should intent or reason, born…
Some that have deeper digg’d love’… Say, where his centric happiness d… I have lov’d, and got, and told, But should I love, get, tell, til… I should not find that hidden myst…
Death, be not proud, though some h… Mighty and dreadful, for thou art… For those whom thou think’st thou… Die not, poor Death, nor yet cans… From rest and sleep, which but thy…
Oh my black soul! now art thou sum… By sickness, death’s herald, and c… Thou art like a pilgrim, which abr… Treason, and durst not turn to whe… Or like a thief, which till death’…
Mark but this flea, and mark in th… How little that which thou deniest… Me it sucked first, and now sucks… And in this flea our two bloods mi… Thou know’st that this cannot be s…
WILT thou forgive that sinn, whe… Which is my sinn, though it were d… Wilt thou forgive those sinns thro… And doe run still, though still I… When thou has done, thou hast not…
Whoever comes to shroud me, do not… Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which… The mystery, the sign, you must no… For 'tis my outward soul,
