What, all my pretty chickens and their dam

At one fell swoop?

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Drink, pretty creature, drink!

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): The Pet Lamb.

Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes:

With everything that pretty is,

My lady sweet, arise.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 3.

We call it only pretty Fanny's way.

Thomas Parnell (1679-1717): An Elegy to an Old Beauty.

Her pretty feet, like snails, did creep

A little out, and then,

As if they played at bo-peep,

Did soon draw in again.

Robert Herrick (1591-1674): To Mistress Susanna Southwell.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,

Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,

Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,

Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Of all the girls that are so smart,

There's none like pretty Sally.

Henry Carey (1663-1743): Sally in our Alley.

Perhaps 't is pretty to force together

Thoughts so all unlike each other;

To mutter and mock a broken charm,

To dally with wrong that does no harm.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): Christabel. Conclusion to Part ii.

She is pretty to walk with,

And witty to talk with,

And pleasant, too, to think on.

Sir John Suckling (1609-1641): Brennoralt. Act ii.