#EnglishWriters
The merchant, to secure his treasu… Conveys it in a borrow’d name: Euphelia serves to grace my measur… But Cloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre,
MY noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my First Epistle beg ye, At dawn of morn, and close of even… To lift your heart and hands to H… In double duty say your prayer:
Phillis, since we have both been k… And of each other had our fill, Tell me what pleasure you can find In forcing Nature 'gainst her wil… ’Tis true, you may, with art and p…
Spare, gen’rous victor, spare the… Who did unequal war pursue; That more than triumph he might ha… In being overcome by you. In the dispute whate’er I said,
What can I say? What Arguments c… My Truth? What Colors can descri… If it’s Excess and Fury be not kn… In what Thy Celia has already don… Thy Infant Flames, whilst yet the…
Nanny blushes when I woo her, And with kindly chiding eyes Faintly says I shall undo her; Faintly, O, forbear! she cries. But her breasts while I am pressi…
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,
Upon the Model of The Nut-Brown… Thou, to whose eyes I bend, at wh… (Though low my voice, though artle… I take the sprightly reed, and sin… Careless of what the censuring wor…
I sent for Ratcliffe, was so ill, That other doctors gave me over, He felt my pulse, prescribed his p… And I was likely to recover. But when the wit began to wheeze,
Reading ends in melancholy, Wine breeds vices and diseases, Wealth is but care, and love but f… Only friendship truly pleases. My wealth, my books, my flask, my…
Bless’d be the princes who have fo… For pompous names or wide dominion… Since by their error we are taught That happiness is but opinion.
Some kind angel, gently flying, Moved with pity at my pain, Tell Corinna I am dying Till with joy we meet again. Tell Corinna, since we parted
Recit. Beneath a verdant laurel’s ample s… His lyre to mournful numbers strun… Horace, immortal bard supinely lai… To Venus thus address’d the song;
Lie Philo untouch’d, on my peacea… Nor take it amiss that so little… I’ve no envy to thee, and some lov… Then why should I answer since fi… Drunk with Helicon’s waters, and…
When Cloe’s Picture was to Venus… Surpriz’d, the Goddess took it fo… And what, said She, does this bol… When was I Bathing thus, and Nak… Pleas’d Cupid heard, and check’d…