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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
Robert Herrick
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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Suspicious
Subjects
Present
Stills
Still
Government
Prone
Men
Loathe
Discontent
More quotes by Robert Herrick
Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
Robert Herrick
Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
Robert Herrick
In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
Robert Herrick
Happy is the bride that the sun shines on.
Robert Herrick
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
Robert Herrick
You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
Robert Herrick
Give house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
Robert Herrick
No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
Robert Herrick
When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing, but to kill Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
Robert Herrick
O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
Robert Herrick
Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
Robert Herrick
Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
Robert Herrick
Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
Robert Herrick
The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.
Robert Herrick
A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction.
Robert Herrick
When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
Robert Herrick
A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine, As my small cruse best fits my little wine.
Robert Herrick
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.
Robert Herrick
The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
Robert Herrick