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agen Anthea best sits bloud bread bring ye Love cal'd canst Chor Christ circumcise cleere cloathes co'd comfort Crojse crown'd Cupid dayes dead Death do's doth drink eare Epig eternall ev'ry eyes fall farre Fate feare fire fits a little fleep flie Frankincense give Glory Gods Grace hand hath heare heart Heaven Hell hence Henry Lawes Him/else holy honour I'le i'th Jemme Julia keep King kisse live Lord Maids meat mercy mighty mirth Muse ne're never night o're oyle PAuls hands Perilla poore Post and Paire praise Prince publike ravisht Roses Sapho Saviour sayes Sepulcher shew sho'd sing Skurfe soule spring Storax Sweet Spirit teares tell thee thence there's thine things Thou art thou dost thou hast thou shalt Trentall twill unto vaults of death Verse Victors Song Violl Warre Wassaile we'l weeping wine wo'd wooe yeere
Page 153 - Now, now the mirth comes With the cake full of plums, Where beane's * the King of the sport here ; Beside we must know, The pea also Must revell as Queene in the court here.
Page 221 - Grace for a Child. HERE a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand ; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall On our meat and on us all. Amen.
Page 135 - CEREMONY UPON CANDLEMAS EVE. DOWN with the rosemary, and so Down with the baies and misletoe ; Down with the holly, ivie, all Wherewith ye drest the Christmas hall ; That so the superstitious find No one least branch there left behind ; For look, how many leaves there be Neglected there, maids, trust to me, So many goblins you shall see.
Page 227 - Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek Him in the morning's blushing cheek, Or search the beds of spices through To find him out. Star. No, this ye need not do, But only come and see him rest, A princely babe in's mother's breast.
Page 185 - Writ in my wild unhallowed times ; For every sentence, clause, and word, That's not inlaid with thee, my Lord, Forgive me, God, and blot each line Out of my book that is not thine. But if, 'mongst all, thou find'st here one Worthy thy benediction ; That one of all the rest shall be The glory of my work and me.
Page 215 - The eye of Virgins ; nay, the Queen, Of this smooth Green, And all sweet Meads ; from whence we get The Primrose, and the Violet.
Page 222 - We see Him come, and know him ours, Who, with His Sun-shine, and His showers, Turnes all the patient ground to flowers.
Page 72 - UPON PREW HIS MAID. IN this little urne is laid Prewdence Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet. THE INVITATION. TO...
Page 7 - THE NIGHT-PIECE, TO JULIA. HER eyes the glow-worme lend thee, The shooting starres attend thee ; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow, Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. No Will-o'th'-Wispe mis-light thee ; Nor snake, or slow-worme bite thee : But on, on thy way Not making a stay, Since ghost ther's none to affright thee.