Milk still your fountains and your springs, for why? II. 90.

Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain, II. 44.

Mop-eyed I am, as some have said, I. 120.

More discontents I never had, I. 21.

More white than whitest lilies far, I. 40.

Music, thou queen of heaven, care-charming spell, I. 128.

My dearest love, since thou wilt go, II. 153.

My faithful friend, if you can see, I. 97.

My G.o.d, I'm wounded by my sin, II. 173.

My G.o.d! look on me with thine eye, II. 175

My head doth ache, II. 9.

My Lucia in the dew did go, II. 58.

My many cares and much distress, II. 139.

My muse in meads has spent her many hours, I. 116.

My soul would one day go and seek, II. 101.

My wearied bark, O let it now be crown'd, II. 164.

My wooing's ended: now my wedding's near, I. 225.

Naught are all women: I say no, II. 102.

Need is no vice at all, though here it be, II. 48.

Nero commanded; but withdrew his eyes, II. 42.

Never my book's perfection did appear, I. 123.

Never was day so over-sick with showers, I. 62.

Next is your lot, fair, to be numbered one, I. 236.

Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep, II. 195.

Night hides our thefts, all faults then pardon'd be, II. 8.

Night makes no difference 'twixt priest and clerk, II. 97.

No fault in women to refuse, I. 148.

No grief is grown so desperate, but the ill, II. 148.

No man comes late unto that place from whence, II. 31.

No man is tempted so but may o'ercome, II. 236.

No man so well a kingdom rules, as he, II. 155.

No man such rare parts hath, that he can swim, II. 121.

No more, my Sylvia, do I mean to pray, II. 2.

No more shall I, since I am driven hence, I. 164.

No news of navies burnt at seas, I. 157.

No trust to metals, nor to marbles, when, II. 272.

No wrath of men or rage of seas, II. 14.

Noah the first was, as tradition says, II. 233.

None goes to warfare but with this intent, I. 50.

Noonday and midnight shall at once be seen, I. 71.

Nor art thou less esteem'd that I have plac'd, II. 70.

Nor is my number full till I inscribe, I. 250.

Nor think that thou in this my book art worst, II. 159.

Not all thy flushing suns are set, I. 87.

Nothing can be more loathsome than to see, II. 10.

Nothing comes free-cost here; Jove will not let, I. 221.

Nothing hard or harsh can prove, II. 48.

Nothing is new, we walk where others went, I. 175.

Now if you love me, tell me, II. 150.