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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
Greed
Slave
Covets
Evermore
Covetousness
More quotes by Robert Herrick
You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
Robert Herrick
Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
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Know when to speak - for many times it brings danger, to give the best advice to kings.
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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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Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold New things succeed, as former things grow old.
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Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
Robert Herrick
The person lives twice who lives the first life well
Robert Herrick
Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
Robert Herrick
What though the sea be calm? trust to the shore, Ships have been drown'd, where late they danc'd before.
Robert Herrick
But here's the sunset of a tedious day, These two asleep are I'll but be undrest, And so to bed. Pray wish us all good rest.
Robert Herrick
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.
Robert Herrick
In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
Robert Herrick
Fight thou with shafts of silver, and o'ercome When no force else can get the masterdom
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
Robert Herrick
The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.
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Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
Robert Herrick
T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
Robert Herrick
Feed him ye must, whose food fills you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe.
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A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction.
Robert Herrick
Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
Robert Herrick