Rue
From The faerie queene by Edmund Spenser
chosen by Hannah
“Ye dreary instruments of dolefull fight,
That doe this deadly spectacle behold,
Why do ye lenger feed on loathed light,
And let eternall night so sad fro me hyde.”
An Epigram On a Painted Lady with ill Teeth By Edmund Waller
chosen by Sam
Were Men so dull they could not see
That Lyce Painted, should they Flee.
Her own Teeth would undo the knot,
Those Teeth fair Lyce must not show,
If she would bite: Her Lovers, though
Like Birds they stoop at seeming Grapes,
Are disabus’d, when first she gapes;
The rotten Bones discover’d there,
Show ‘tis a Painted Sepulcher.
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