Epitaph On Mr. Bridgeman
One pitt containes him now that could not dye Before a thousand pitts in him did lye; Soe many spotts upon his flesh were shewne ‘Cause on his soule sinne fastned almost none.
Remembrances Of The Renowned Knight, Sir Rowland Cotton, Of Bellaport In Shropshire, Concerning
Renowned Champion full of wrestling Art, And made for victory in every part, Whose active Limbes, oyl’d Tongue, and vertuous Mind, Subdu’d both Foe and Friend, the Rough and Kind, Yea, ev’n Thy-selfe, and
Love Compared To A Game Of Tables
Love is a game at tables where the dye Of mayds affections doth by fancie fly: If once you catch their fancie in a blott It’s tenne to one if then you enter not:
On A Dissembler
Could any shewe where Plynyes people dwell Whose head stands in their breast; who cannot tell A smoothing lye because their open hart And lippes are joyn’d so neare, I would depart As quick
On Gray Eyes
Looke how the russet morne exceeds the night, How sleekest Jett yields to the di’monds light, So farr the glory of the gray-bright eye Out-vyes the black in lovely majesty. A morning mantl’d with
On A Gentlewoman That Had Had The Small Poxe
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For A Gentleman, Who, Kissinge His Friend At His Departure Left A Signe Of Blood On Her
What mystery was this; that I should finde My blood in kissing you to stay behinde? ‘Twas not for want of color that requirde My blood for paynt: No dye could be desirde On
To His Mistresse
In your sterne beauty I can see Whatere in Aetna wonders bee; If coales out of the topp doe flye Hott flames doe gush out of your eye; If frost lye on the ground
A Riddle: On A Kiss
What thing is that, nor felt nor seene Till it bee given? a present for a Queene: A fine conceite to give and take the like: The giver yet is farther for to seeke;
A New Year's Gift
We are prevented; you whose Presence is A Publick New-yeares gift, a Common bliss To all that Love or Feare, give no man leave To vie a Gift but first he shall receave; Like
On Chloris Standing By The Fire
Faire Chloris, standing by the Fire, An amorous coale with hot desire Leapt on her breast, but could not melt The chaste snow there which when it felt For shame it blusht; and then
A Purse-String
We hugg, imprison, hang, and save, This foe, this friend, our Lord, our slave. While thus I hang, you threatned see The fate of him that stealeth mee.
On The Picture Of Two Dolphins In A Fountayne
These dolphins twisting each on either side For joy leapt upp, and gazing there abide; And whereas other waters fish doe bring, Here from the fishes doe the waters spring, Who think it is
A Necklace
These veines are nature’s nett, These cords by art are sett. If love himselfe flye here, Love is intangled here. Loe! on my neck this twist I bind, For to hang him that steales
On A Register For A Bible
I am the faythfull deputy Unto your fading memory. Your Index long in search doth hold; Your folded wrinkles make books olde: But I the Scripture open plaine, And what you heard soone teach