Why should you swear I am forswor… Since thine I vowed to be? Lady, it is already morn, And ’twas last night I swore to t… That fond impossibility.

Cleft as the top of the inspired h… Struggles the soul of my divided q… Whilst this foot doth the watry mo… That Sinai’s living and enlivenin… Behold my powers storm’d by a twis…

You, that can haply mixe your joye… And weave white Ios with black El… Can caroll out a dirge, and in one… Sing to the tune either of life, o… You, that can weepe the gladnesse…

I’ th’ autumn of a summer’s day, When all the winds got leave to pl… LUCASTA, that fair ship, is lan… And from its crust this almond bla… II.

See! with what constant motion Even and glorious, as the sunne, Gratiana steeres that noble frame, Soft as her breast, sweet as her v… That gave each winding law and poy…

Heark, faire one, how what e’re he… Doth laugh and sing at thy distres… Not out of hate to thy reliefe, But joy t’ enjoy thee, though in g… II.

THEOPHILE BEING DENY… TURNED THE AFFRONT T… Si Jaques, le Roy du scavior, Ne trouue bon de me voir, Voila la cause infallible!

Pray, ladies, breath, awhile lay b… Caelestial Sydney’s ARCADY; Heere’s a story that doth claime A little respite from his flame: Then with a quick dissolving looke

If teares could wash the ill away, A pearle for each wet bead I’d pa… But as dew’d corne the fuller grow… So water’d eyes but swell our woes… II.

With that delight the Royal capti… Before the throne, to breath his f… To tel his last tale, and so end w… Which gladly he esteemes a benefit… When the brave victor, at his grea…

SHE beat the happy pavement— By such a star made firmament,    Which now no more the roof envi…    But swells up high, with Atlas…    Bearing the brighter nobler hea…

I’m un-ore-clowded, too! free from… The blind and late Heaven’s-eyes… Obscured with the false fires of h… Not half those souls are lightned… Unhappy murmurers, that still repi…

Now Whitehall’s in the grave, And our head is our slave, The bright pearl in his close shel… Now the miter is lost, The proud Praelates, too, crost,

What means this stately tablature, The ballance of thy streins, Which seems, in stead of sifting p… T’ extend and rack thy veins? Thy Odes first their own harmony…

Up with the jolly bird of light Who sounds his third retreat to ni… Faire Amarantha from her bed Ashamed starts, and rises red As the carnation-mantled morne,