Robert Herrick
THE OLD WIVES' PRAYER
Holy-Rood, come forth and shield Us i’ th’ city and the field; Safely guard us, now and aye, From the blast that burns by day; And those sounds that us affright In the dead
Draw-gloves
At draw-gloves we’ll play, And prithee let’s lay A wager, and let it be this : Who first to the sum Of twenty shall come, Shall have for his winning a kiss.
Up Scoble
Scobble for whoredom whips his wife and cries He’ll slit her nose; but blubbering she replies, “Good sir, make no more cuts i’ th’ outward skin, One slit’s enough to let adultery in.
UPON MRS ELIZ. WHEELER, UNDER THE NAME OFAMARILLIS
Sweet Amarillis, by a spring’s Soft and soul-melting murmurings, Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew A Robin-red-breast; who at view, Not seeing her at all to stir, Brought leaves and moss to cover her:
UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES
I have lost, and lately, these Many dainty mistresses: Stately Julia, prime of all; Sapho next, a principal: Smooth Anthea, for a skin White, and heaven-like crystalline: Sweet Electra, and the choice Myrha, for
THE PLAUDITE, OR END OF LIFE
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, Ye
MEN MIND NO STATE IN SICKNESS
That flow of gallants which approach To kiss thy hand from out the coach; That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postilion; Those strong-hoof’d mules, which we behold Rein’d in with
HIS AGE:DEDICATED TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND, MR JOHN WICKES, UNDER THE NAME OFPOSTUMUS
Ah, Posthumus! our years hence fly And leave no sound: nor piety, Or prayers, or vow Can keep the wrinkle from the brow; But we must on, As fate does lead or draw us;
THE HAG
The Hag is astride, This night for to ride, The devil and she together; Through thick and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne’er so foul be the weather. A thorn or
What Kind Of Mistress He Would Have
Be the mistress of my choice, Clean in manners, clear in voice; Be she witty, more than wise, Pure enough, though not precise; Be she showing in her dress, Like a civil wilderness, That
TO HIS CONSCIENCE
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 My delicate transgression,
UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES
Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Till, then, methinks, how sweetly flows That liquefaction of her clothes! Next, when I cast mine eyes, and see That brave vibration each way free; O how that
DELIGHT IN DISORDER
A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness; A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction; An erring lace, which here and there Enthrals the crimson stomacher; A cuff
Upon Parson Beanes
Old Parson Beanes hunts six days of the week, And on the seventh, he has his notes to seek. Six days he hollows so much breath away That on the seventh he can nor
UPON HIS SISTER-IN-LAW, MISTRESS ELIZABETHHERRICK
First, for effusions due unto the dead, My solemn vows have here accomplished; Next, how I love thee, that my grief must tell, Wherein thou liv’st for ever. Dear, farewell!