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Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Show
Hope
Others
Shows
Ever
Unto
Mercy

More quotes by Edmund Spenser

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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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Laws 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.
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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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For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.
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She bathed with roses red, And violets blew. And all the sweetest flowres That in the forrest grew.
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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time.
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Men, when their actions succeed not as they would, are always ready to impute the blame thereof to heaven, so as to excuse their own follies.
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But angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.
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Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play, A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair
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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
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For next to Death is Sleepe to be compared Therefore his house is unto his annext: Here Sleepe, ther Richesse, and hel-gate them both betwext.
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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would chuse goodness of his own free will.
Edmund Spenser
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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.
Edmund Spenser
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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
Edmund Spenser
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My 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 Spenser
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Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
Edmund Spenser