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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!
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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Well I sup and well I dine, When I drink my frolic wine.
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A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
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Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.
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Men are suspicious prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
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Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
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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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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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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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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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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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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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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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Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, O how that glittering taketh me!
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Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
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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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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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