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It is the wit and policy of sin to hate those we have abused.

William Davenant

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William Davenant
Age: 62 †
Born: 1606
Born: February 1
Died: 1668
Died: April 7
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Sin
Policy
Hate
Abused
Wit
Abuse

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O harmless Death! whom still the valiant brave, The wise expect, the sorrowful invite, And all the good embrace, who know the grave A short dark passage to eternal light.
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Anger is blood, poured and perplexed into froth but malice is the wisdom of our wrath.
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Had laws not been, we never had been blam'd For not to know we sinn'd is innocence.
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For in a dearth of comforts, we art taught To be contented with the least.
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How beautiful is sorrow when it is dressed by virgin innocence! it makes felicity in others seem deformed.
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What one cannot, another can.
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How much pleasure they lose (and even the pleasures of heroic poesy are not unprofitable) who take away the liberty of a poet, and fetter his feet in the shackles of a historian.
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Since knowledge is but sorrow's spy, It is not safe to know.
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Honor is the moral conscience of the great.
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Ambition is the mind's immodesty.
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Generous souls Are still most subject to credulity.
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Calamity is the perfect glass wherein we truly see and know ourselves.
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All jealousy must be strangled in its birth.
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Small are the seeds fate does unheeded sow Of slight beginnings to important ends.
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Actions rare and sudden do commonly proceed from fierce necessity, of else from some oblique design, which is ashamed to show itself in the public road.
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Ambition's monstrous stomach does increase By eating, and it fears to starve, unless It still may feed, and all it sees devour Ambition is not tir'd with toll nor cloy'd with power.
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The assembled souls of all that men held wise.
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Go! dive into the Southern Sea, and when Th'ast found, to trouble the nice sight of men, A swelling pearl, and such whose single worth Boasts all the wonders which the seas bring forth, Give it Endymion's love, whose ev'ry tear Would more enrich the skilful jeweller.
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Slow seems their speed whose thoughts before them run.
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Fame, like the river, is narrowest where it is bred, and broadest afar off.
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