Quote

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!

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Little
Kill
Pills
Nothing
Comfort
Runs
Meet
Skill
Sweet
Doctor
Lees
Hope
Sees
Artless
Running
Doctors
Potion
Spirit
None
Pill
Littles
Skills
Fees

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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.
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A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction.
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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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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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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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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
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Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
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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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Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score: Then to that twenty, add a hundred more.
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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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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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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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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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If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
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