Автор: BEN JONSON

Since you must go, and I must bid farewell, Hear, mistress, your departing servant tell What it is like: and […]

Wretched and foolish Jealousy, How cam’st thou thus to enter me? I ne’er was of thy kind : Nor have […]

What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew, Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew, And beckoning woos me, from the […]

I sing the birth was born to-night, The author both of life and light; The angels so did sound it. […]

Or scorn, or pity on me take, I must the true relation make, I am undone to-night: Love in a […]

Though beauty be the mark of praise, And yours of whom I sing, be such, As not the world can […]

I now think, Love is rather deaf than blind, For else it could not be, That she Whom I adore […]

Where dost Thou carelesse lie Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps, doth die; And this security, It is […]

By those bright eyes, at whose immortal fires Love lights his torches to inflame desires; By that fair stand, your […]

Rhyme, the rack of finest wits, That expresseth but by fits True conceit, Spoiling senses of their treasure, Cozening judgment […]

High-Spirited friend, I send nor balms nor cor’sives to your wound : Your fate hath found A gentler and more […]

She. Come, with our voices let us war, And challenge all the spheres, Till each of us be made a […]

To draw no envy, Shakspeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess […]

Let me be what I am: as Virgil cold, As Horace fat, or as Anacreon old; No poet’s verses yet […]

I. WHY I WRITE NOT OF LOVE Some act of LOVE’S bound to rehearse, I thought to bind him in […]