Madam, Since Anna visited the mus… (Around her tomb let weeping angel… Hail, thou, the brightest of thy s… Most gracious neighbour and most w… Not Harley’s self, to Cam and Is…

To me ’twas given to die; to thee… To live: alas! one moment sets us… Mark! how impartial is the will of…

Dear Howard, from the soft assaul… Poets and painters never are secur… Can I untouch’d the fair one’s pa… Or thou draw beauty, and not feel… To great Appelles when young Ammo…

Dear Chloe, how blubber’d is that… Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hai… Prythee quit this caprice; and (as… Let us e’en talk a little like fol… How canst thou presume, thou hast…

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

Morella, charming without art, And kind without design, Can never lose the smallest part Of such a heart as mine. Obliged a thousand several ways,

Whate’er thy countrymen have done By law and wit, by sword and gun, In thee is faithfully recited, And all the living world that view Thy work, give thee the praises du…

THE merchant, to secure his treas…    Conveys it in a borrow’d name: Euphelia serves to grace my measur…    But Chloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre,

My Lord, Our weekly friends to-morrow meet At Matthew’s palace in Duke-stree… To try for once if they can dine On bacon-ham and mutton-chine.

Recit. Beneath a verdant laurel’s ample s… His lyre to mournful numbers strun… Horace, immortal bard supinely lai… To Venus thus address’d the song;

Since, Moggy, I mun bid adieu, How can I help despairing? Let cruel Fate us still pursue, There’s nought more worth my carin… ’Twas she alone could calm my soul

Since we your husband daily see So jealous out of season, Phillis, let you and I agree To make him so with reason. I’m vex’d to think that every nigh…

In Heav’n, one Holy-day, You rea… In wise Anacreon, Ganymede Drew heedless Cupid in, to throw A Main, to pass an Hour, or so. The little Trojan, by the way,

Sly Merry Andrew, the last South… (At Bartholomew he did not much a… So peevish was the dict of the Ma… At Southwark, therefore, as his t… To please our masters, and his fri…