One asked me where the roses grew: I bade him not go seek, But forwith bade my Julia show A bud in either cheek.

If after rude and boisterous seas My wearied pinnace here finds ease… If so it be I’ve gain’d the shore… With safety of a faithful oar; If having run my barque on ground,

That flow of gallants which approa… To kiss thy hand from out the coac… That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postilion; Those strong-hoof’d mules, which w…

Still to our gains our chief respe… Reward it is that makes us good or…

Tell, if thou canst, and truly, wh… This camphire, storax, spikenard,… These musks, these ambers, and tho… Sweet as the Vestry of the Oracle… I’ll tell thee:—while my Julia di…

As is your name, so is your comely… Touch’d every where with such diff… As that in all that admirable roun… There is not one least solecism fo… And as that part, so every portion…

For those my unbaptized rhymes, Writ in my wild unhallowed times, For every sentence, clause, and wo… That’s not inlaid with Thee, my L… Forgive me, God, and blot each li…

Love is a circle, that doth restle… In the same sweet eternity of Lov…

Laid out for dead, let thy last ki… With leaves and moss-work for to c… And while the wood-nymphs my cold… Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling… For epitaph, in foliage, next writ…

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,

No fault in women, to refuse The offer which they most would ch… —No fault: in women, to confess How tedious they are in their dres… —No fault in women, to lay on

BE those few hours, which I have… Blest with the meditation of my en… Though they be few in number, I’m… If otherwise, I stand indifferent… Nor makes it matter, Nestor’s yea…

Though frankincense the deities re… We must not give all to the hallow… Such be our gifts, and such be our… As for ourselves to leave some fra…

LACON. For a kiss or two, conf… What doth cause this pensiveness, Thou most lovely neat-herdess? Why so lonely on the hill? Why thy pipe by thee so still,

Droop, droop no more, or hang the… Ye roses almost withered; Now strength, and newer purple get… Each here declining violet. O primroses! let this day be