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To hear him speak, and sweetly smile
You were in Paradise the while.
- Friend's Passion for his Astrophel
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange, one for the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven.
- My True Love Hath my Heart [Love]
Thy fair hair my heart enchained.
- Neapolitan Villanell [Hair]
The nightingale as soon as April bringeth
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,
While late bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,
Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making.
And mournfully bewailing,
Her throat in tunes expresseth
What grief her breast oppresseth.
- O Philomela Fair [Nightingales]
The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace,
The smoke of hell,--that monster called Paine.
- Sidera--Paine [Pain]
Yet sighes, deare sighes, indeeds true friends you are
That do not leave your left friend at the wurst,
But, as you with my breast, I oft have nurst
So, gratefull now, you waite upon my care.
- Sighes [Sighs]
If I could think how these my thoughts to leave,
Or thinking still, my thoughts might have good end:
If rebel sense would reason's law receive;
Or reason foil'd would not in vain contend:
Then might I think what thoughts were best to think:
Then might I wisely swim, or gladly sink.
- Sonnet [Thought]
And thou my minde aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in the which never taketh rust.
- Sonnet--Leave me, O Love [Knowledge]
The tip no jewel needs to wear:
The tip is jewel of the ear.
- Sonnet--What Tongue can Her Perfection Tell?
They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts.
- The Arcadia (bk. I) [Thought]
High erected thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy.
- The Arcadia (bk. I, par. II) [Courtesy]
Shallow brooks murmur moste, deepe silent slide away.
- The Arcadia--Thirsis and Dorus [Silence]
She is her selfe of best things the collection.
- The Arcadia--Thirsis and Dorus [Women]
Laughter almost ever cometh of things most disproportioned to ourselves and nature: delight hath a joy in it either permanent or present; laughter hath only a scornful tickling.
- The Defence of Poesy [Laughter]
With a tale, forsooth, he cometh to you with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney-corner.
- The Defense of Poesy
[Fiction : Story Telling]
Look in thy heart and write.
- William Gray's Life of Sir Philip Sidney
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