"Honour’s a mistress all mankind pursue, Yet most mistake the false one for the true: Lur’d by the trappings, dazzled by the paint, We worship oft the idol for the saint."

"Should we miss but a tree where we used to be playing, Or find the wood cut where we sauntered a-Maying,— If the yew-seat’s away, or the ivy’s a-wanting, We hate the fine lawn and the new-fashioned planting. Each thing called improvement seems blackened with crimes, If it tears up one record of blissful old times."

"I’ve gotten a rock, I’ve gotten a reel, I’ve gotten a wee bit spinning-wheel; An’ by the whirling rim I’ve found How the weary, weary warl goes round."

"I love him not; but shew no reason can Wherefore, but this, I do not love the man."

"Her voice, her touch, might give th’ alarm— ’Twas both perhaps, or neither, In short, ’twas that provoking charm Of Caelia altogether."

"Why, praise is satire in these sinful days."

"Let sickness blast, and death devour, If heaven must recompense our pains Perish the grass, and fade the flower, If firm the word of God remains."

"Beneath, a sleeping infant lies, To earth whose ashes lent, More glorious shall hereafter rise, Though not more innocent. When the arch-angel's trump shall blow, And souls and bodies join, What crowds will wish, their lives below Had been as short as thine!"

"Here lie I, once a witty fair, Ill-loving and ill-loved; Whose heedless beauty was my snare, Whose wit my folly proved. Reader, should any curious stay To ask my luckless name, Tell them the grave that hides my clay Conceals me from my shame. Tell them I mourned for guilt of sin More than for pleasure spent: Tell them, whate’er my morn had been, My noon was penitent."

"It seems as if Nature had curiously plann'd That men's names with their trades should agree; There's Twining the Tea-man, who lives in the Strand, Would be whining, if robb'd of his T."

"Cease, ye Etonians! and no more With rival wits contend: Feathers, we know, will float in air, And bubbles will ascend."

"Cease your humming; The case is "on"; Defendant's Cumming, Plaintiff's—gone!"

"From sunset to daybreak, when folks are asleep, New watchmen are 'pointed the 'chequer to keep; New locks and new bolts fasten every door, And the chests are made three times as strong as before. Yet the thieves, when 'tis open, the treasure may seize, For the same are still trusted with care of the keys. From the night to the morning, 'tis true, all is right; But who shall secure it from morning to night?"

"When Anacreon would fight, as the poets have said, A reverse he display'd in his vapour, For while all his poems were loaded with lead, His pistols were loaded with paper. For excuses, Anacreon old custom may thank, Such a salvo he should not abuse, For the cartridge, by rule, is always made blank, That is fired away at Reviews."

"Shelley styles his new poem "Prometheus Unbound," And 'tis like to remain so while time circles round; For surely an age would be spent in the finding A reader so weak as to pay for the binding!"

"Two Miltons in separate ages were born: The cleverer Milton 'tis clear we have got, Though the other had talents the world to adorn, This lives by his mews, which the other could not!"

"When each points out a different way, What mediums shall we keep? The text invites to watch and pray, The priest himself, to sleep."

"A Welshman and an Englishman disputed Which of their lands maintained the greatest state; The Englishman the Welshman quite confuted, Yet would the Welshman naught his brags abate. "Ten cooks," quoth he, "in Wales one wedding sees." "True," quoth the other, "each man toasts his cheese.""

"An arch wag has declar'd, that he truly can say Why the Prince did not lay the first stone t'other day: The Restrictions prevented — the reason is clear; The Regent can't meddle in making a pier."

"This pair in matrimony Go most unequal snacks: He gets all the Honey, And she gets all the whacks."

"Whilst Butler, needy wretch! was yet alive, No gen'rous patron would a dinner give: See him, when starved to death, and turn'd to dust, Presented with a monumental bust! The poet's fate is here in emblem shown,— He ask'd for bread, and he receiv'd a stone."

"CLOE, as soon as she has plaid the Whore, Repents the Deed, and vows to do’t no more; With the next Man she meets, to cure her Pain, She breaks her Vow, repents, and vows again; Breaks it again, so yielding is the Dame, And does the next Day and the next the same; Or keep thy Vows, frail Nymph, or vow no more, Cease to repent, or cease to play the Whore. Plain Fornication is a venial Evil, But Perjury leads headlong to the Devil."

"CLOE, dear JACK, that once victorious Name, CLOE, the Object of my raging Flame, Whom I did more than Life or Friendship prize, In Fleetstreet now a common strumpet plies, Turns up to ev’ry Puppy in the Town, And claps the Temple Rake for half a Crown."

"Kind Katherine to her husband kiss'd these words, "Mine own sweet Will, how dearly do I love thee!" "If true," quoth Will, "the world no such affords." And that it's true I durst his warrant be: For ne'er heard I of woman, good or ill, But always lovèd best her own sweet will."

"A cobbler and a curate once disputed, Before a judge about the King's injunctions; Wherein the curate being still confuted, One said 'twere good if they two changèd functions. "Nay," quoth the judge, "I thereto should be loth, But an you will, we'll make them cobblers both.""

"Dacus doth daily to his doctor go, As doubting if he be in health or no; For when his friends salute him passing by, And ask him how he doth in courtesy, He will not answer thereunto precise, Till from his doctor he hath ta'en advice."

"Sir, can you tell where young Pandorus lives, That was surnamed here the Prodigal: He that so much for his silk stockings gives, Till nought is left to buy him shoes withal? Oh blame him not, to make what show he can; How should he else be thought a gentleman?"

"Harmony, with ev'ry grace, Plays in the fair proportions of her face."

"No more to fabled names confined, To thee, supreme, all-perfect mind, My thoughts direct their flight: Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force From thee derived, unchanging source Of intellectual light! O send her sure, her steady ray To regulate my doubtful way Through life's perplexing road, The mists of error to control, And through its gloom direct my soul To happiness and good!"

"Come, blessed peace, we once again implore, And let our pains be less, or power more."

"Every thing doth pass away; There is danger in delay: Come, come, gather then the rose, Gather it, or it you lose!"

"I loathe that I did love, In youth that I thought sweet; As time requires, for my behove, Methinks they are not meet. * * * For age with stealing steps Hath clawed me with his clutch, And lusty life away she leaps, As there had been none such."

"I wish my deadly foe, no worse Than want of friends, and empty purse."

"The harbinger of death, To me I see him ride; The cough, the cold, the gasping breath Doth bid me to provideA pickaxe and a spade, And eke a shrouding sheet, A house of clay for to be made For such a guest most meet."

"Both poles we burnt, whereon the world doeth turne, The rownd of heaven, from earth unto the skies: And nowe the seas we both intend to burne: I with my bowe, and Licia with her eyes."

"The coward’s weapon, poison."

"If these by hope doe joye in their distresse, And constant are, in hope to conquer tyme, Then let not hope in us (sweete friend) be lesse, And cause our love to wither in the Pryme.Let us conspyre, and time will have an end, So both of us in time shall have a frend."

"Only bend thy knee to me, Thy wooing shall thy winning be!"

"When all is done and said, in the end thus shall you find, He most of all doth bathe in bliss that hath a quiet mind."

"In the merry month of May, In a morn by break of day, Forth I walk’d by the wood-side Whenas May was in his pride: There I spièd all alone Phillida and Coridon."

"Love’s tongue is in the eyes."

"Poorly (poor man) he lived; poorly (poor man) he died."

"His little son into his bosom creeps, The lively picture of his father’s face."

"Drop, drop, slow tears, And bathe those beauteous feet, Which brought from Heaven The news and Prince of Peace."

"Our wealth leaves us at death, our kinsmen at the grave; But virtue of the mind unto the heavens with us we have."

"Love is like linen; often changed, the sweeter."

"In your deep floods Drown all my faults and fears; Not let His eye See sin, but through my tears."

"Come little babe, come silly soul, Thy father’s shame, thy mother’s grief, Born as I doubt to all our dole, And to thyself unhappy chief: Sing lullaby, and lap it warm, Poor soul that thinks no creature harm."

"We rise with the lark and go to bed with the lamb."

"Is this a life? Nay, death you may it call, That feels each pain and knows no joy at all."