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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Borne
Deeds
Evil
Words
May
Better

More quotes by Edmund Spenser

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Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath Abhorred bloodshed and tumultuous strife Unmanly murder and unthrifty scath, Bitter despite, with rancor's rusty knife And fretting grief the enemy of life All these and many evils more, haunt ire.
Edmund Spenser
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What though the sea with waves continuall Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought : For whatsoever from one place doth fall Is with the tyde unto another brought : For there is nothing lost, that may be found if sought.
Edmund Spenser
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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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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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For all that faire is, is by nature goodThat is a signe to know the gentle blood.
Edmund Spenser
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The noblest mind the best contentment has
Edmund Spenser
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Nothing under heaven so strongly doth allure the sense of man, and all his mind possess, as beauty's love.
Edmund Spenser
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
Edmund Spenser
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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
Edmund Spenser
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The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
Edmund Spenser
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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
Edmund Spenser
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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
Edmund Spenser
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
Edmund Spenser
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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
Edmund Spenser
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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.
Edmund Spenser
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Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.
Edmund Spenser
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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
Edmund Spenser
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
Edmund Spenser
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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
Edmund Spenser
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How many great ones may remember'd be, Which in their days most famously did flourish, Of whom no word we hear, nor sign now see, But as things wip'd out with a sponge do perish, Because the living cared not to cherish No gentle wits, through pride or covetize, Which might their names forever memorize!
Edmund Spenser