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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.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Appall
Lamenting
Raging
Waking
Rage
Passion
Love

More quotes by Edmund Spenser

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All flesh doth frailty breed!
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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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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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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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Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.
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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would chuse goodness of his own free will.
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
Edmund Spenser
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Ill seemes (sayd he) if he so valiant be, That he should be so sterne to stranger wight For seldom yet did living creature see That courtesie and manhood ever disagree.
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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Bright as does the morning star appear, Out of the east with flaming locks bedight, To tell the dawning day is drawing near.
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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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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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I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
Edmund Spenser
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This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state for misery doth bravest minds abate.
Edmund Spenser
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At last, the golden orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre, And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy ayre.
Edmund Spenser
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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
Edmund Spenser
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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.
Edmund Spenser
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
Edmund Spenser
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Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
Edmund Spenser