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Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.

Edmund Spenser

I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.
EDMUND SPENSER

Myself Promise Reason Season Time
For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.
EDMUND SPENSER

Choice Freedom Goodness Praise Sick Willing
Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? – Epithalamion
EDMUND SPENSER

Leaving Love Myself
All sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring In goodly colours gloriously arrayed; Go to my love, where she is careless laid.
EDMUND SPENSER

Color Earth Flower Glory Goodness Herself Love Spring
Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
EDMUND SPENSER

Love One Liner Rose Time
The Patron of true Holinesse, Foule Errour doth defeate: Hypocrisie him to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate.
EDMUND SPENSER

Himself Home Hypocrisy True
But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
EDMUND SPENSER

Creature Enemy God Grace Love Man Mercy Service Wickedness
For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
EDMUND SPENSER

Easy Man Willing
Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.
EDMUND SPENSER

Bad Death Equality Goodness Rest
Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
EDMUND SPENSER

Angel Gratitude Music One Liner Thankful
Bright as does the morning star appear, Out of the east with flaming locks bedight, To tell the dawning day is drawing near.
EDMUND SPENSER

Appearance Bed Bright Flame Light Morning Stars
For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
EDMUND SPENSER

Advice Lost Philosophy
Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
EDMUND SPENSER

End God Goodness
The man whom nature’s self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
EDMUND SPENSER

Herself Imitation Man Nature Truth
Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love’s delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.
EDMUND SPENSER

Curse Feed Happiness Heart Jealous Lose Misery
All flesh doth frailty breed!
EDMUND SPENSER

Body Flesh Fragile

Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.

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Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.

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