I have no hopes, the Duke he says… In sure and certain hopes - the pr… Of these two learned peers, I pr’… Who is the lying knave, the priest… The Duke he stands an infidel con…

Soft Cupid, wanton, amorous boy, The other day, moved with my lyre, In flattering accents spoke his jo… And uttered thus his fond desire. Oh! raise thy voice, one song I a…

See, whilst Thou weep’st, fair Cl… The World in Sympathy with Thee. The chearful Birds no longer sing… Each drops his Head, and hangs hi… The Clouds have bent their Bosom…

The merchant, to secure his treasu… Conveys it in a borrowed name: Euphelia serves to grace my measur… But Cloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre

Behind an unfrequented glade, Where yew and myrtle MIX their s… A widow Turtle pensive sat, And wept her murder’d lover’s fate… The Sparrow chanced that way to w…

In sullen Humour one Day Jove Sent Hermes down to Ida’s Grove, Commanding Cupid to deliver His Store of Darts, his total Qu… That Hermes shou’d the Weapons br…

While with labour assiduous due pl… And in one day atone for the busin… In a little Dutch chaise, on a Sa… On my left hand my Horace, a W* o… No memoirs to compose, and no post…

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…

When hungry wolves had trespass’d… And the robb’d shepherd his sad st… ‘Call in Alcides,’ said a crafty… ‘Give him one half and he’ll secur… No, said the shepherd, if the Fat…

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,

Dulce est desipere in loco. Some Folks are drunk, yet do not… So might not Bacchus give You La… Was it a Muse, O lofty Poet, Or Virgin of St. Cyr, You saw?

VENUS, take my votive glass: Since I am not what I was, What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.

Honour, I say, or honest Fame, I mean the substance, not the name… (Not that light heap of tawdry war… Ermin, Coronets, and Stars, Which often is by merit sought,

Still, Dorinda, I adore; Think I mean not to deceive you, For I loved you much before, And, alas! now love you more Though I force myself to leave yo…