Consolatorium, Ad Parentes (William Strode Poems)
Lett her parents then confesse That they beleeve her happinesse, Which now they question. Thinke as you Lent her the ...
Lett her parents then confesse That they beleeve her happinesse, Which now they question. Thinke as you Lent her the ...
Come, come, I faint: thy heavy stay Doubles each houre of the day: The winged hast of nimble love Makes ...
Preethee stand still awhile, and view this tree Renown'd and honour'd for antiquitie By all the neighbour twiggs; for such ...
Great Lady, Humble partners of like griefe In bringing Comfort may deserve beliefe, Because they Feele and Feyne not: Thus ...
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