Henry King

Praise ye the Lord, your Songs address To praise His Holynes:
O praise Him in His pow'rs extent,
Who rules the firmament
Praise Him for all His acts of might,

The man is blest whose feet not tread,
By wicked counsailes led:
Nor stands in that perverted way,
In which the Sinners stray;

Essex twice made unhappy by a Wife,
Yet Marry'd worse unto the Peoples strife:
He who by two Divorces did untie His Bond of Wedlock and of Loyalty:
Who was by Easiness of Nature bred,

Fair one, why cannot you an old man love
He may as useful, and more constant prove
Experience shews you that maturer years Are a security against those fears Youth will expose you to; whose wild desire As it is hot, so 'tis as rash as fi...

Since thou hast view'd some Gorgon, and art grown A solid stone:
To bring again to softness thy hard heart Is past my art
Ice may relent to water in a thaw;
But stone made flesh Loves Chymistry ne're saw

Ill busi'd man
why should'st thou take such care To lengthen out thy life's short calendar
When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon Presents and acts thy execution
Each drooping season and each flower doth cry, "Fool

O all ye Nations record,
The Praises of the Lord;
Ye people through the Universe,
Your Makers praise rehearse

Fond Lunatick forbear, why do'st thou sue For thy affections pay e're it is due
Loves fruits are legal use; and therefore may Be onely taken on the marriage day
Who for this interest too early call,
By that exaction lose the Principall

Brought forth in sorrow, and bred up in care,
Two tender Children here entombed are:
One Place, one Sire, one Womb their being gave,
They had one mortal sickness, and one grave

VE flowers—that I could gallant it like you, And be as little vain
You come abroad, and make a harmless show, And to your beds of earth again
You are not proud: you know your birth:
For your embroider'd garments are from earth...

Con mala Muger el remedio Mucha Tierra por el medio
I have oft wondred why thou didst elect Thy Mistress of a stuff none could affect,
That wore his eyes in the right place
A thing Made up, when Natures powers lay slumbering

Love is our Reasons Paradox, which still Against the judgment doth maintain the Will:
And governs by such arbitrary laws,
It onely makes the Act our Likings cause:
We have no brave revenge, but to forgo Our full desires, and starve ...