Unattributed Author ( 10 of 195 )
Live ye, he says, I flee.
Live ye, he says, I flee.
The service was of great array,
That they were served with that day.
Thus they ate, and read more
The service was of great array,
That they were served with that day.
Thus they ate, and made them glad,
With such service as they had--
When they had dined, as I you say,
Lordis and ladies yede to play;
Some to tables and some to chess,
With other games more and less.
The king of France with twenty thousand men
Went up the hill, and then came down again:
read more
The king of France with twenty thousand men
Went up the hill, and then came down again:
The king of Spain with twenty thousand more
Climbed the same hill the French had climbed before.
The man that weds for greedy wealth,
He goes a fishing fair,
But often times he gets read more
The man that weds for greedy wealth,
He goes a fishing fair,
But often times he gets a frog,
Or very little share.
This Booke
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.
This Booke
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.
Our life's a flying shadow, God the pole,
The needle pointing to Him is our soul.
Our life's a flying shadow, God the pole,
The needle pointing to Him is our soul.
A blockhead, bit by fleas, put out the light,
And chuckling cried, "Now you can't see to bite."
A blockhead, bit by fleas, put out the light,
And chuckling cried, "Now you can't see to bite."
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
All the rest have thirty-one
Excepting read more
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
All the rest have thirty-one
Excepting February alone:
Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine,
Till lap year gives it twenty-nine.
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis read more
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis and talk too much
of Prosperpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare
puts them all down. Aye, and Ben Jonson too. O that B.J. is a
pestilent fellow, he brought up Horace giving poets a pill, but
our fellow, Shakespeare, hath given him a purge that made him
beray his credit.
Acon his right, Leonilla her left eye
Doth want; yet each in form, the gods out-vie.
Sweet read more
Acon his right, Leonilla her left eye
Doth want; yet each in form, the gods out-vie.
Sweet boy, with thine, thy sister's sight improved:
So shall she Venus be, thou God of Love.
[Lat., Lumine Acon dextre,--capta est Leonilla sinistre,
Et potis est forma vincere uterque dees:
Blande puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori,
Sic tu caecus Amor, sic erit illa Venus.]
