Quote

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.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Whose
String
Winning
Careless
Art
Precise
Tempestuous
Part
Strings
Apparel
Doe
Note
Wilde
Every
Wave
Civility
Notes
Shoe
Shoes
Deserving

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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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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
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Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
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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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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
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The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.
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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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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.
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T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
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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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Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
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Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may The morrow's life too late is live to-day.
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Give house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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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.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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You say to me-wards your affection's strong Pray love me little, so you love me long.
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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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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
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