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Anger is blood, poured and perplexed into froth but malice is the wisdom of our wrath.

William Davenant

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William Davenant
Age: 62 †
Born: 1606
Born: February 1
Died: 1668
Died: April 7
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Blood
Wisdom
Froth
Perplexed
Poured
Malice
Wrath
Anger

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To be rich be diligent move on Like heav'ns great movers that enrich the earth Whose moment's sloth would show the world undone And make the spring straight bury all her birth. Rich are the diligent who can command Time--nature's stock.
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Be not with honor's gilded baits beguil'd, Nor think ambition wise, because 'tis brave For though we like it, as a forward child, 'Tis so unsound, her cradle is the grave.
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Since knowledge is but sorrow's spy, It is not safe to know.
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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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Slow seems their speed whose thoughts before them run.
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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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Generous souls Are still most subject to credulity.
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Think not ambition wise, because 't is brave.
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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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How beautiful is sorrow when it is dressed by virgin innocence! it makes felicity in others seem deformed.
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For in a dearth of comforts, we art taught To be contented with the least.
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All jealousy must be strangled in its birth.
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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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Fame, like the river, is narrowest where it is bred, and broadest afar off.
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What one cannot, another can.
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Faith lights us through the dark to Deity.
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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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All slander must still be strangled in its birth, or time will soon conspire to make it strong enough to overcome the truth.
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Calamity is the perfect glass wherein we truly see and know ourselves.
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