After that, in the mould
Long for to lie here.
But before that day comes,
Still I be bousing;
For I know, in the tombs
There’s no carousing.
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Then I’ll give o’er,And bid the world good-night.‘Tis but a flying minute,That I must stay,Or linger in it:And then I must away.O Time, that cut’st down all,And scarce leav’st hereMemorialOf any men that were;–How many lie forgotIn vaults beneath,And piece-meal rotWithout a fame in death?Behold this living stoneI rear for me,Ne’er to be thrownDown, envious…
Be my mistress short or tall
Be she likewise one of thoseThat an acre hath of noseBe her teeth ill hung or setAnd her grinders black as jetBe her cheeks so shallow tooAs to show her tongue wag throughHath she thin hair, hath she noneShe’s to me a paragon.
1 Among thy fancies, tell me this,
2 I shall resolve ye what it is:–It is a creature born and bredBetween the lips, all cherry-red,By love and warm desires fed,–CHOR. And makes more soft the bridal bed.2 It is an active flame, that fliesFirst to the babies of the eyes,And charms them there with lullabies,–CHOR. And stills the bride, too, when she…
Here lies Jonson with the rest
Reader, would’st thou more have known?Ask his story, not this stone.That will speak what this can’t tellOf his glory. So farewell.
What conscience, say, is it in thee,
To take away that heart from me,And to retain thy own?For shame or pity, now inclineTo play a loving part;Either to send me kindly thine,Or give me back my heart.Covet not both; but if thou dostResolve to part with neither;Why! yet to shew that thou art just,Take me and mine together.
Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep;
Slowly her chariot drives, as if that sheHad broke her wheel, or crack’d her axletree.Just so it is with me, who list’ning, prayThe winds to blow the tedious night away,That I might see the cheerful peeping day.Sick is my heart; O Saviour! do Thou pleaseTo make my bed soft in my sicknesses;Lighten my candle, so…