#EnglishWriters
Were I (who to my cost already am One of those strange prodigious C… A Spirit free, to choose for my o… What Case of Flesh, and Blood, I… I’d be a Dog, a Monkey, or a Bea…
Deare Friend. I heare this Towne does soe aboun… With sawcy Censurers, that faults… With what of late wee (in Poetiqu… Bestowing, threw away on the dull…
Absent from thee I languish still… Then ask me not, when I return? The straying fool 'twill plainly k… To wish all day, all night to mour… Dear! from thine arms then let me…
Absent from thee, I languish stil… Then ask me not, When I return? The straying fool 'twill plainly k… To wish all day, all night to mour… Dear, from thine arms then let me…
Love bade me hope, and I obeyed; Phyllis continued still unkind: Then you may e’en despair, he said… In vain I strive to change her mi… Honour’s got in, and keeps her hea…
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain that sighs f… For you alone was born. No, Phyllis, no, your heart to mo…
After Death nothing is, and nothi… The utmost limit of a gasp of brea… Let the ambitious zealot lay aside His hopes of heaven, whose faith i… Let slavish souls lay by their fea…
All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o’er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone.
Here lies a great and mighty King… Whose promise none relied on; He never said a foolish thing, Nor ever did a wise one.
Give me leave to rail at you, - I ask nothing but my due: To call you false, and then to say You shall not keep my heart a day. But alas! against my will
Were I - who to my cost already a… One of those strange, prodigious c… A spirit free to choose for my own… What sort of flesh and blood I pl… I’d be a dog, a monkey, or a bear,
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain, that sighs… For you alone was born. No, Phyllis, no, your heart to mo…
You ladies of merry England Who have been to kiss the Duchess… Pray, did you not lately observe i… A noble Italian called Signior D… This signior was one of the Duche…
All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams giv’n o’er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone.