Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!
EDMUND SPENSERThose that were up themselves, kept others low; Those that were low themselves, held others hard; He suffered them to ryse or greater grow; But every one did strive his fellow down to throw.
More Edmund Spenser Quotes
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I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.
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So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life the leaf, the bud, the flower.
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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.
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The Patron of true Holinesse, Foule Errour doth defeate: Hypocrisie him to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate.
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Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.
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Bright as does the morning star appear, Out of the east with flaming locks bedight, To tell the dawning day is drawing near.
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Who would ever care to do brave deed, Or strive in virtue others to excel, If none should yield him his deserved meed Due praise, that is the spur of doing well? For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.
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But Justice, though her dome she doe prolong, Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.
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Sluggish idleness–the nurse of sin.
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All for love, and nothing for reward.
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So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought; Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
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Her angel’s face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.
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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To loose good dayes, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.
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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