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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Makes
Men
Valiant
Necessity

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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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.
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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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T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
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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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Each must in virtue strive for to excel That man lives twice that lives the first life well.
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Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
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Art quickens nature care will make a face Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
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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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A winning wave, (deserving note.) In the tempestuous petticote, A careless shoe-string, in whose tye I see a wilde civility,-- Doe more bewitch me than when art Is too precise in every part.
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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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Go to your banquet then, but use delight So as to rise still with an appetite.
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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.
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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
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When one is past, another care we have Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
Robert Herrick
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The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup I'll drink to the garlands around it But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
Robert Herrick
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Fight thou with shafts of silver, and o'ercome When no force else can get the masterdom
Robert Herrick
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
Robert Herrick