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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.
Edmund Spenser
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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Upon
Worms
Fear
Monster
Canker
Heart
Jealousy
Gall
Love
Monsters
Worm
Turning
Felicity
Delight
Feeds
Misery
Eats
Losing
Cursed
More quotes by Edmund Spenser
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
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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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Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.
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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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The poets scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives all else is claimed by death.
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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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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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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
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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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All flesh doth frailty breed!
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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What more felicitie can fall to creature Than to enjoy delight with libertie, And to be lord of all the workes of Nature, To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie, To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature.
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So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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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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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
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Fly from wrath sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords.
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