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This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.

Edmund Spenser

Beauty is not, as fond men misdeem, an outward show of things that only seem.
EDMUND SPENSER

Appearance Beautiful Man Philosophy
For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
EDMUND SPENSER

Action Bad Evil Home Word
Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.
EDMUND SPENSER

Freedom Gold
Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
EDMUND SPENSER

Divine Hate Heart Jealous Joy Love Thinking
All flesh doth frailty breed!
EDMUND SPENSER

Body Flesh Fragile
Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
EDMUND SPENSER

End God Goodness
The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
EDMUND SPENSER

Advice Bite Hard Ocean
Man’s wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
EDMUND SPENSER

Evening Fade Fresh Man Morning Taste
For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.
EDMUND SPENSER

Action Death Live Man Thinking Wisdom Word
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.
EDMUND SPENSER

Day Fear Feed Goodness Hell Hope Night Sorrow Speed Unknown Wasted
Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.
EDMUND SPENSER

Greatness Myself Reach Rule
Sluggish idleness–the nurse of sin.
EDMUND SPENSER

Freedom Sin Wasted Time
In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.
EDMUND SPENSER

Burn Cruelty Death Hate Heart Oneself Revenge Treason
And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.
EDMUND SPENSER

Happiness Pain
For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.
EDMUND SPENSER

Eyes Joy Missing Night
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

This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.

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This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.

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Popular Authors

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