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
Sweet
Doctor
Lees
Hope
Sees
Artless
Running
Doctors
Potion
Spirit
None
Pill
Littles
Skills
Fees
Little
Kill
Pills
Nothing
Comfort
Runs
Meet
Skill

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For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee Which bore my Love away I'le seek him in your Bonnet brave, I'le seek him in your eyes.
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
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Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
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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 house-room to the best 'tis never known Verture and pleasure both to dwell in one.
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Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
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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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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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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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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
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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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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.
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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
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Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.
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Necessity makes dastards valiant men.
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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
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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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