Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.
EDMUND SPENSERFondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee.
EDMUND SPENSERAll sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring In goodly colours gloriously arrayed; Go to my love, where she is careless laid.
EDMUND SPENSERSuch is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.
EDMUND SPENSERHard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew.
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.
EDMUND SPENSERWho will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?
EDMUND SPENSERIn one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.
EDMUND SPENSERFor whatsoever from one place doth fall, Is with the tide unto an other brought: For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
EDMUND SPENSERFull 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 SPENSERWho 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.
EDMUND SPENSERYet 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 SPENSERMe seems the world is run quite out of square,From the first point of his appointed source,And being once amiss grows daily worse and worse.
EDMUND SPENSERLaws ought to be fashioned unto the manners and conditions of the people whom they are meant to benefit, and not imposed upon them according to the simple rule of right.
EDMUND SPENSERMy Love is like to ice, and I to fire: How comes it then that this her cold so great Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But harder grows the more I her entreat?
EDMUND SPENSERAnd he that strives to touch the stars Oft stumbles at a straw.
EDMUND SPENSERBe bold, and everywhere be bold.
EDMUND SPENSER