|
I. |
Since shunning pain, I ease can never find |
|
II. |
When Love, puft up with rage of high disdain |
|
III. |
The Fire to see my wrongs, for anger burneth |
|
IV. |
The Nightingale—as soon as April bringeth |
|
V. |
“Sleep, baby mine, Desire!” Nurse Beauty singeth |
|
VI. |
O Fair! O sweet! when I do look on thee |
|
VII. |
The scourge of life, and death’s extreme disgrace |
|
VIII. |
Woe! woe to me! On me, return the smart! |
|
IX. |
Thou Pain! the only guest of loathed Constraint |
|
X. |
And have I heard her say, “O cruel pain!” |
|
XI. |
You better sure shall live, not evermore |
|
XII. |
Nulli se dicit mulier mea nubere malle |
|
XIII. |
“Unto nobody,” my woman saith, “she had rather a wife be” |
|
XIV. |
Qui sceptra sævus duro imperio regit |
|
XV. |
Fair! seek not to be feared. Most lovely! beloved by thy servants! |
|
XVI. |
Like as the dove, which, sealed up, doth fly |
|
XVII. |
Prometheus, when first from heaven high by Sir Edward Dyer |
|
XVIII. |
A Satyr once did run away for dread |
|
XIX. |
My mistress lowers, and saith I do not love! |
|
XX. |
In wonted walks, since wonted fancies change |
|
XXI. |
If I could think how these my thoughts to leave |
|
XXII. |
Oft have I mused, but now at length I find |
|
XXIII. |
Finding those beams, which I must ever love |
|
XXIV. |
The Seven Wonders of England |
|
XXV. |
Who hath his fancy pleased |
|
XXVI. |
The smokes of Melancholy |
|
XXVII. |
When, to my deadly pleasure |
|
XXVIII. |
No, no, no, no, I cannot hate my foe |
|
XXIX. |
All my sense thy sweetness gained |
|
XXX. |
What changes here, O hair! |
|
XXXI. |
Of this high grace, with bliss conjoined |
|
XXXII. |
Ring out your bells! let mourning shows be spread |
|
XXXIII. |
Thou blind man’s mark! thou fool’s self-chosen snare! |
|
XXXIV. |
Leave me, O love! which reachest but to dust! |
