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Bid me to live, and I will liveThy Protestant to be,Or bid me love, and I will giveA loving heart to thee.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Protestant
Protestants
Thee
Loving
Live
Heart
Love

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
Robert Herrick
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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
Robert Herrick
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What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
Robert Herrick
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Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
Robert Herrick
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Give house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
Robert Herrick
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You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
Robert Herrick
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Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.
Robert Herrick
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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.
Robert Herrick
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
Robert Herrick
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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.
Robert Herrick
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The person lives twice who lives the first life well
Robert Herrick
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And as this round (ring) is nowhere found to flaw, or else to sever. So let our love as endless prove and pure as gold forever.
Robert Herrick
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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.
Robert Herrick
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Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
Robert Herrick
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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
Robert Herrick
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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.
Robert Herrick
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Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
Robert Herrick
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Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
Robert Herrick
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Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may The morrow's life too late is live to-day.
Robert Herrick
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Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
Robert Herrick