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None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Pity
None
Would
Pities
Snare
Snares
Warned
Beware

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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
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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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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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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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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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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.
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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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Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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No, not Jove Himselfe, at one time, can be wise and love.
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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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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
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Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.
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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.
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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.
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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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Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
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