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" Love in my bosom like a bee, Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast; And yet he robs me of my rest: Ah, wanton, will... "
Midsummer-night's dream. Love's labor's lost. Merchant of Venice. As y@u ... - Pągina 253
per William Shakespeare - 1844
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Essays in romance and studies from Scottish life

Sir John Skelton - 1883 - 382 pągines
...delightful song, — " Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet ; Within mine eyes he makes...And yet he robs me of my rest : Ah ! wanton, will you 1 And if I sleep, then pierceth he With pretty slight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong...
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English Lyrics

English lyrics - 1883 - 340 pągines
...ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL. LOVE in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes...his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah I wanton, will ye ? And if I sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my...
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Songs from the Novelists: From Elizabeth to Victoria

William Davenport Adams - 1885 - 190 pągines
...Fortune.] ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL. OVE in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes...sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night. Strike I the lute, he tunes the string, He music plays if...
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Red-letter Poems by English Men and Women

1885 - 686 pągines
...ROSALINDS COMPLAINT. LOVE in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes...feast, And yet he robs me of my rest : Ah, wanton, will you ? And if I sleep, then pierceth he With pretty slight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong...
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A History of Elizabethan Literature

George Saintsbury - 1887 - 530 pągines
...best of them : — " Love in my bosom like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes...ye?' " And if I sleep, then percheth he, With pretty flight,1 And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string...
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The English Poets: Chaucer to Donne

Thomas Humphry Ward - 1889 - 628 pągines
...ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL. Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes...sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string ; He music plays if...
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A Third Poetry Book

1889 - 552 pągines
...ROSALYNDE'S MADRIGAL LOVE in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet ; Within mine eyes he makes...sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night : Strike I my lute he tunes the string, He music plays if...
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The English Poets: Chaucer to Donne

Thomas Humphry Ward - 1889 - 632 pągines
...ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL. Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes...his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest : Ah I wanton, will ye ? And if I sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my...
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English Lyrics

1890 - 332 pągines
...MADRIGAL. 1 OVE in my bosom, like a bee, -I — ' Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes...sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee, Strike I my lute, he tunes the string ; He music plays if so I sing ; He lends...
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Chaucer to Burns

William James Linton, Richard Henry Stoddard - 1890 - 416 pągines
...sweet : Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet : Within mine eyes he makes his ncct, His bed amidst my tender breast, My kisses are his...sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night : Strike I my lute he tunes the string, He music plays if...
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