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Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew,
Whose short refresh upon tender green,
Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show
And straight is gone, as it had never been.
By adversity are wrought the greatest works of admiration, and all the fair examples of renown, out of distress and misery are grown.
Do not insult calamity
It is a barb'rous grossness to lay on
The weight of scorn, where heavy misery
Too much already weighs men's fortunes.
Flattery, the dangerous nurse of vice.
Pity is sworn servant unto love; and of this be sure, wherever it begins to make the way, it lets the master in.
Pow'r above pow'rs!
O heavenly eloquence!
That with the strong rein of commanding words,
Dost manage, guide, and master th' eminence
Of men's affections, more than all their swords!
Power above powers! O heavenly eloquence! that, with the strong reign of commanding words, dost manage, guide and master the high eminence of men's affections!
So false is faction, and so smooth a liar,
As that it never had a side entire.
The absent danger greater still appears less fears he who is near the thing he fears.
The wise are above books.
This is that rest this vain world lends,
To end in death that all things ends.
Thus doth the ever-changing course of things
Run a perpetual circle, ever turning;
And that same day, that highest glory brings,
Brings us unto the point of back-returning.
Unless above himself he can erect himself, how poor a thing is man!
We come to know best what men are, in their worse jeopardies.
When better cherries are not to be had,
We needs must take the seeming best of bad.
Wrongs do not leave off there where they begin, but still beget new mischiefs in their course.
Th' aspirer, once attain'd unto the top,
Cuts off those means by which himself got up.
- Civil War (bk. II) [Success]
Striving to tell his woes, words would not come;
For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dumb.
- Complaint of Rosemond (st. 114) [Silence]
Swift speedy Time, feathered with flying hours,
Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow.
- Delia [Time]
This many-headed monster, Multitude.
- History of the Civil War (bk. II, st. 13)
As that the walls worn thin, permit the mind
To look out through, and his Frailty find.
- History of the Civil War (bk. IV, st. 84)
The stars that have most glory have no rest.
- History of the Civil War (bk. VI, st. 104)
And who in time knows whither we may vent
The treasure of our tongue? To what strange shores
This gain of our best glory shall be sent,
T' enrich unknowing nations with our stores?
What worlds in th' yet unformed Occident
May come refin'd with th' accents that are ours?
- Musophilus (last lines) [Language]
This is the Thing that I was born to do.
- Musophilus (st. 100) [Deeds]
Sacred religion! Mother of Form and Fear!
- Musophilus (st. 47) [Religion]
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