#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
COME away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be lai… Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid… My shroud of white, stuck all with…
? or John Fletcher. ORPHEUS with his lute made tree… And the mountain tops that freeze Bow themselves when he did sing… To his music plants and flowers
TELL me where is Fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender’d in the eyes,
Let not my love be called idolatry… Nor my belovèd as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and prais… To one, of one, still such, and ev… Kind is my love today, tomorrow ki…
O, that you were yourself! but, lo… No longer yours than you yourself… Against this coming end you should… And your sweet semblance to some o… So should that beauty which you ho…
Through the house give glimmering… By the dead and drowsy fire; Every elf and fairy sprite hop as light as bird from brier. Now, until the break of day
A woman’s face with Nature’s own… Hast thou, the master-mistress of… A woman’s gentle heart, but not ac… With shifting change, as is false… An eye more bright than theirs, le…
Whilst I alone did call upon thy… My verse alone had all thy gentle… But now my gracious numbers are de… And my sick Muse doth give an oth… I grant, sweet love, thy lovely ar…
So am I as the rich whose blessèd… Can bring him to his sweet up-lock… The which he will not every hour s… For blunting the fine point of sel… Therefore are feasts so solemn and…
That you were once unkind befriend… And for that sorrow which I then… Needs must I under my transgressi… Unless my nerves were brass or ham… For if you were by my unkindness s…
Marcellus to Horatio and Bernardo… Some say that ever ‘gainst that se… Wherein our Saviour’s birth is ce… This bird of dawning singeth all n… And then, they say, no spirit dare…
WHO is Silvia? What is she? That all our swains commend her… Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend… That she might admired be.
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost tho… Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing but… And being frank she lends to those… Then, beauteous niggard, why dost…
Thy glass will show thee how thy b… Thy dial how thy precious minutes… These vacant leaves thy mind’s imp… And of this book, this learning ma… The wrinkles which thy glass will…
But be contented when that fell ar… Without all bail shall carry me aw… My life hath in this line some int… Which for memorial still with thee… When thou reviewest this, thou dos…