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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
Subjects
Present
Stills
Still
Government
Prone
Men
Loathe
Discontent
Suspicious

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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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Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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I dare not ask a kiss I dare not beg a smile Lest having that or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air, That lately kissed thee.
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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
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Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
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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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Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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Oft have I heard both youths and virgins say, Birds chuse their mates and couple too this day: But by their flight I never can devine When I shall couple with my valentine.
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Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There, Where my Julia's lips do smile There's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.
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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
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Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
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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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T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
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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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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
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