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Who covets more is evermore a slave.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Evermore
Covetousness
Greed
Slave
Covets

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You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
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Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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Let wealth come in by comely thrift, And not by any sordid shift 'T is haste Makes waste Extremes have still their fault. Who gripes too hard the dry and slipp'ry sand, Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
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Go to your banquet then, but use delight So as to rise still with an appetite.
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
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Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
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Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.
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Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
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Then be not coy, but use your time And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
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For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee Which bore my Love away I'le seek him in your Bonnet brave, I'le seek him in your eyes.
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What though the sea be calm? trust to the shore, Ships have been drown'd, where late they danc'd before.
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
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Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score: Then to that twenty, add a hundred more.
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Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
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Fight thou with shafts of silver, and o'ercome When no force else can get the masterdom
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