I call, I call: who do ye call? The maids to catch this cowslip ba… But since these cowslips fading be… Troth, leave the flowers, and maid… Yet, if that neither you will do,

Bell-man of night, if I about sha… For to deny my Master, do thou cr… Thou stop’st Saint Peter in the m… Stay me, by crowing, ere I do beg… Better it is, premonish’d, for to…

While fates permit us, let’s be me… Pass all we must the fatal ferry; And this our life, too, whirls awa… With the rotation of the day.

HERE a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall

Come, Sons of Summer, by whose to… We are the lords of wine and oil: By whose tough labours, and rough… We rip up first, then reap our lan… Crown’d with the ears of corn, now…

Come pity us, all ye who see Our harps hung on the willow-tree; Come pity us, ye passers-by, Who see or hear poor widows’ cry; Come pity us, and bring your ears

My Muse in meads has spent her ma… Sitting, and sorting several sorts… To make for others garlands; and t… On many a head here, many a corone… But amongst all encircled here, no…

Can I not sin, but thou wilt be My private protonotary? Can I not woo thee to pass by A short and sweet iniquity? I’ll cast a mist and cloud upon

Men say you’re fair; and fair ye a… But, hark! we praise the painter…

In this little Urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.

What conscience, say, is it in the… When I a heart had one, [won] To take away that heart from me, And to retain thy own? For shame or pity, now incline

While the milder fates consent, Let’s enjoy our merriment: Drink, and dance, and pipe, and pl… Kiss our dollies night and day: Crowned with clusters of the vine,

HERE, Here I live with what my… Can with the smallest cost afford; Though ne’er so mean the viands be… They well content my Prue and me: Or pea or bean, or wort or beet,

Since to the country first I came… I have lost my former flame; And, methinks, I not inherit, As I did, my ravish’d spirit. If I write a verse or two,

When words we want, Love teacheth… And what we blush to speak, she bi…