- Love, then unstinted, Love did sip,
And cherries plucked fresh from the lip;
On cheeks and roses free he fed;
Lasses like autumn plums did drop,
And lads indifferently did crop
A flower and a maidenhead.
- Love Made in the First Age: To Chloris (l. 13–18).
- Poor verdant fool, and now green ice! thyjoys,
Large and as lasting as thy perch of grass,
Bid us lay in ‘gainst winter rain, and poise
Their floods with an o’erflowing glass.
- The Grasshopper (l. 17-20)
- If to be absent were to be
Away from thee;
Or that when I am gone,
You and I were alone;
Then, my Lucasta, might I crave
Pity from blust'ring wind, or swallowing wave.
- Though Seas and Land betwixt us both,
Our Faith and Troth,
Like separated soules,
All time and space controules:
Above the highest sphere wee meet
Unseene, unknowne, and greet as Angels greet.
- To Lucasta: Going Beyond the Seas, st. 3.
- Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.
- To Lucasta: Going to the Wars, st. 1.
- Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more.
- To Lucasta: Going to the Wars, st. 3.
- Here we’ll strip and cool our fire
In cream below, in milk-baths higher;
And when all wells are drawn dry,
I’ll drink a tear out of thine eye.
- To Amarantha, That She Would Dishevel Her Hair (l. 21–24).
- Then, if when I have lov’d my round,
Thou prov’st the pleasant she,
With spoils of meaner beauties crown’d
I laden will return to thee,
Ev’n sated with variety.
- The Scrutiny, st. 4.
- Oh, could you view the melody
Of every grace
And music of her face,
You'd drop a tear;
Seeing more harmony
In her bright eye
Than now you hear.
- Orpheus to Beasts. Compare: "There is music in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument; for there is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion; and thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres, Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, Part ii, Section ix; "The mind, the music breathing from her face", Lord Byron, Bride of Abydos, canto i, stanza 6.
- When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fettered to her eye,
The gods that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.
- To Althea: From Prison, st. 1.
- When flowing cups pass swiftly round
With no allaying Thames.
- Fishes that tipple in the deep,
Know no such liberty.
- To Althea: From Prison, st. 2.
- Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above
Enjoy such liberty.
- To Althea: From Prison, st. 4.
- Then Love, I beg, when next thou takest thy bow,
Thy angry shafts, and dost heart-chasing go,
Pass rascal deer, strike me the largest doe.
- La Bella Bona Roba (l. 13–15).