Underneath this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mothe… Death! ere thou hast slain another… Learned, and fair, and good as she…

On the happy entrace of Iames, ou… Licet toto nunc Helicone frui. Mart. Heav’n now not strives, alone, our… With joyes: but urgeth his full fa…

Lucy, you brightness of our sphere… Life of the Muses’ day, their mor… If works, not th’ author’s, their… Whose poems would not wish to be y… But these, desir’d by you, the mak…

Don Surly, to aspire the glorious… Of a great man, and to be thought… Makes serious use of all great tra… He speaks to men with a Rhinocero… Which he thinks great; and so read…

Still to be neat, still to be dres… As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfum… Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not fo…

Epitaphs i WOULDST thou hear what Man can… In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much Beauty as could die:

Drink to me, only, with thine eyes… And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kisse but in the cup, And Ile not look for wine. The thirst, that from the soule do…

Gut eats all day and lechers all t… So all his meat he tasteth over tw… And, striving so to double his del… He makes himself a thoroughfare of… Thus in his belly can he change a…

Drinke to me, onely, with thine ey… And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kisse but in the cup, And Ile not looke for wine. The thirst, that from the soule do…

Pray thee, take care, that tak’st… To read it well: that is, to under…

The ports of death are sins; of li… Through which our merit leads us t… How wilful blind is he, then, that… And hath it in his powers to make… This world death’s region is, the…

I that have been a lover, and coul…   Though not in these, in rhymes n…   Since I exscribe your sonnets,… A better lover, and much better po… Nor is my Muse, or I ashamed to o…

Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain.

FALSE world, good night! since t… That hour upon my morn of age; Henceforth I quit thee from my th… My part is ended on thy stage. Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear

That poets are far rarer births th… Your noblest father proved; like w… Or then, or since, about our Muse… Came not that soul exhausted so th… Hence was it that the destinies de…