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Well I sup and well I dine, When I drink my frolic wine.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Frolic
Dine
Wine
Drink
Wells
Well

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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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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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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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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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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And as this round (ring) is nowhere found to flaw, or else to sever. So let our love as endless prove and pure as gold forever.
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Art quickens nature care will make a face Neglected beauty perisheth apace.
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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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Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.
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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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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
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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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Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.
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Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
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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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Who covets more is evermore a slave.
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
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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.
Robert Herrick
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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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.
Robert Herrick
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
Robert Herrick