In awful pomp and melancholy state… See settled Reason on the judgeme… Around her crowd Distrust, and Do… And thoughtful Foresight, and tor… Far from the throne the trembling…

Beneath a Myrtle’s verdant Shade As Cloe half asleep was laid, Cupid perch’d lightly on Her Brea… And in That Heav’n desir’d to res… Over her Paps his Wings He sprea…

Dum studeo fungi fallentis munere… Adfectoque viam sedibus Elysiis Arctoa florens sophia, Samiisque… Discipulis, animas morte carere ca… Has ego corporibus profugas ad sid…

AS doctors give physic by way of…    Mat, alive and in health, of hi… For delays are unsafe, and his pio…    May haply be never fulfill’d by… Then take Mat’s word for it, the…

Interr’d beneath this marble stone… Lie saunt’ring Jack and idle Joan… While rolling threescore years and… Did round this globe their courses… If human things went ill or well;

Thy nags, the leanest things alive… So very hard thou lovest to drive, I heard thy anxious coachman say It costs thee more in whips than h…

THE merchant, to secure his treas…    Conveys it in a borrow’d name: Euphelia serves to grace my measur…    But Chloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre,

The sturdy man, if he in love obta… In open pomp and triumph reigns: The subtle woman, if she should su… Disowns the honour of the deed. Though he for all his boast is for…

Fair Susan did her wif-hede well… Algates assaulted sore by letchour… Now, and I read aright that aunci… Olde were the paramours, the dame… Had thilke same tale in other guis…

While from our looks, fair nymph,… The secret passions of our mind; My heavy eyes, you say, confess A heart to love and grief inclined… There needs, alas! but little art

Touch the lyre, touch every string… Touch it, Orpheus; I will sing A song which shall immortal be, Since she I sing’s a deity; A Leonora, whose bless’d birth

Well, I will never more complain, Or call the Fates unkind; Alas! how fond it is, how vain! But self-conceitedness does reign I nevery mortal mind.

Since by ill fate I’m forced away… And snatch’d so soon from those de… Against my will I must obey, And leave those sweet endearing ch… Yet still love on, and never fear

Howe’er, ’tis well that, while man… Through fate’s perverse meander er… He can imagined pleasures find To combat against real cares. Fancies and notions he pursues,

Ovid is the surest guide You can name to show the way To any woman, maid, or bride, Who resolves to go astray.