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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Firsts
Play
First
Commends
Doubtful
Theatre
Lasts
Last

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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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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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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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!
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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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But here's the sunset of a tedious day, These two asleep are I'll but be undrest, And so to bed. Pray wish us all good rest.
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
Robert Herrick
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
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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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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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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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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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Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score: Then to that twenty, add a hundred more.
Robert Herrick
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
Robert Herrick
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Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
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.
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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Robert Herrick