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 SPENSERFor easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
More Edmund Spenser Quotes
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For that which all men then did virtue call, Is now called vice; and that which vice was hight, Is now hight virtue, and so used of all: Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right.
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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.
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Joy may you have and gentle hearts content Of your loves couplement: And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love, With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile
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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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To be wise and eke to love, Is granted scarce to gods above.
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Waking love suffereth no sleepe: Say, that raging love dothe appall the weake stomacke: Say, that lamenting love marreth the musicall.
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn’d himself first to subdue.
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Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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All flesh doth frailty breed!
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Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state, Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying Thought.
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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.
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The gentle mind by gentle deeds is known, For a man by nothing is so well betrayed As by his manners.
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No dainty flower or herbs that grows on ground, No arborett with painted blossoms drest And smelling sweet, but there it might be found To bud out fair, and throw her sweet smells all around.
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And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.
EDMUND SPENSER