Michael Drayton
To Time Stay, speedy Time, behold, before thou pass, From age to age what thou hast sought to see, One in whom all the excellencies be, In whom Heav’n looks itself as in a
In Ionia whence sprang old poets’ fame, From whom that sea did first derive her name, The blessed bed whereon the Muses lay, Beauty of Greece, the pride of Asia, Whence Archelaus, whom times
You not alone, when you are still alone, O God, from you that I could private be. Since you one were, I never since was one; Since you in me, my self since out
There’s nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste, That in my days I may not see thee old, That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac’d Only two loop-holes then I might
An evil spirit, your beauty haunts me still, Wherewith, alas, I have been long possest, Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill, Nor gives me once but one poor minute’s rest; In
SINCE there ‘s no help, come let us kiss and part Nay, I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so
Nothing but “No,” and “Aye,” and “Aye,” and “No”? How falls it out so strangely you reply? I tell ye, Fair, I’ll not be answer’d so, With this affirming “No,” denying “Aye.” I say,
How many paltry foolish painted things, That now in coaches trouble every street, Shall be forgotten, whom no poet sings, Ere they be well wrapped in their winding-sheet! Where I to thee eternity shall
Into these Loves who but for Passion looks, At this first sight here let him lay them by And seek elsewhere, in turning other books, Which better may his labor satisfy. No far-fetch’d sigh
I hear some say, “This man is not in love.” “What? Can he love? A likely thing,” they say; “Read but his verse, and it will easily prove.” O judge not rashly, gentle Sir,
In former times such as had store of coin, In wars at home, or when for conquests bound, For fear that some their treasure should purloin, Gave it to keep to spirits within the
FAIR stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his
As Love and I, late harbor’d in one inn, With proverbs thus each other entertain: “In Love there is no lack,” thus I begin; “Fair words make fools,” replieth he again; “Who spares to
Like an advent’rous seafarer am I, Who hath some long and dang’rous voyage been, And, call’d to tell of his discovery, How far he sail’d, what countries he had seen; Proceeding from the port
What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart? To take all mine and give me none again? Or have thine eyes such magic or that art That what they get they ever
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