UPON SUDDS, A LAUNDRESSE. SUDDS launders bands in pisse; and starches them Both with her husband's, and her own tough fleame. TO THE ROSE. SONG. GOE, happy Rose, and enterwove Say, if she's fretfull, I have bands I have mirtle rods at will, For to tame, though not to kill. Take thou my blessing thus, and goe UPON GUESSE. EPIG. GUESSE cuts his shooes, and limping, goes about To have men think he's troubled with the gout : But 'tis no gout, beleeve it, but hard beere, Whose acrimonious humour bites him here. TO HIS BOOKE. THOU art a plant, sprung up to wither never, But like a laurell, to grow green for ever. UPON A PAINTED GENTLEWOMAN. MEN say y'are faire; and faire ye are, 'tis true; But, hark! we praise the painter now, not you. UPON A CROOKED MAID. CROOKED you are, but that dislikes not me; DRAW-GLOVES. AT Draw-Gloves we'l play, And prethee let's lay A wager, and let it be this; Who first to the summe Of twenty shall come, Shall have for his winning a kisse. TO MUSICK, TO BECALME A SWEET SICK YOUTH. CHARMS, that call down the moon from out her sphere, TO THE HIGH AND NOBLE PRINCE GEORGE, DUKE, NEVER my book's perfection did appeare, Your sober hand-maid; who doth wisely chuse HIS RECANTATION. LOVE, I recant, And pardon crave, That lately I offended, But 'twas, Alas! To make a brave, But no disdaine intended. No more Ile vaunt, Thou onely hast the power, And bind A heart that's free, THE COMMING OF GOOD LUCK. So Good-luck came, and on my roofe did light, THE PRESENT; OR, THE BAG OF THE BEE. FLY to my mistresse, pretty pilfring bee, ON LOVE. LOVE bade me aske a gift, But this, that I might shift love. Since which, though I love many, Yet so it comes to passe, That long I love not any. THE HOCK-CART, OR HARVEST-HOME: COME Sons of summer, by whose toile, The harvest swaines and wenches bound For joy, to see the hock-cart crown'd. |