Upon A Sour-Breath Lady. Epig.

Fie, quoth my lady, what a stink is here?
When 'twas her breath that was the carrionere.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

No Pains, No Gains

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

How Violets Came Blue.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Her Eyes

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Great Maladies, Long Medicines.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Upon A Free Maid, With A Foul Breath.

You say you'll kiss me, and I thank you for it;
But stinking breath, I do as hell abhor it.

Robert Herrick

Upon Skoles. Epig.

Skoles stinks so deadly, that his breeches loath
His dampish buttocks furthermore to clothe;
Cloy'd they are up with arse; but hope, one blast
Will whirl about, and blow them thence at last.

Robert Herrick

Upon Lungs. Epig.

Lungs, as some say, ne'er sets him down to eat
But that his breath does fly-blow all the meat.

Robert Herrick

Upon Pearch. Epig.

Thou writes in prose how sweet all virgins be;
But there's not one, doth praise the smell of thee.

Robert Herrick

To His Kinswoman, Mistress Susanna Herrick

When I consider, dearest, thou dost stay
But here awhile, to languish and decay;
Like to these garden glories, which here be
The flowery-sweet resemblances of thee:
With grief of heart, methinks, I thus do cry,
Would thou hadst ne'er been born, or might'st not die!

Robert Herrick

Upon Bridget. Epig.

Of four teeth only Bridget was possest;
Two she spat out, a cough forced out the rest.

Robert Herrick