How many perils doe enfold The righteous man to make him daily fall.
EDMUND SPENSERBut 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.
More Edmund Spenser Quotes
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She bathed with roses red, And violets blew. And all the sweetest flowers That in the forest grew.
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Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.
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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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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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And he that strives to touch the stars Oft stumbles at a straw.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn’d himself first to subdue.
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Those 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.
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Man’s wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? – Epithalamion
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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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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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In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.
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And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.
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Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.
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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 easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
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The man whom nature’s self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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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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The Patron of true Holinesse, Foule Errour doth defeate: Hypocrisie him to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate.
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Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!
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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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The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
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All flesh doth frailty breed!
EDMUND SPENSER