Your mistress, that you follow whores, still taxeth
you ;
'Tis strange that she should thus confess it, though 't be true.
More verses by John Donne
- A Licentious Person
- Oh My Blacke Soule! Now Thou Art Summoned
- A Sheaf Of Snakes Used Heretofore To Be My Seal, The Crest Of Our Poor Family
- Ode
- A Dialogue Between Sir Henry Wootton And Mr. Donne