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The Patron of true Holinesse,
Foule Errour doth defeate:
Hypocrisie him to entrappe,
Doth to his home entreate.
- The Faerie Queene (book I, proem, canto I)
[Books (First Lines)]
Her face so faire, as flesh it seemed not,
But heavenly pourtraict of bright angels' hew,
Cleare as the skye withouten blame or blot,
Through goodly mixture of complexion's dew.
- The Faerie Queene (canto III, st. 22)
Lastly came Winter cloathed all in frize,
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill;
Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freese,
And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill
As from a limebeck did adown distill:
In his right hand a tipped staffe he held,
With which his feeble steps he stayed still;
For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld;
That scarce his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.
- The Faerie Queene
(canto VII, Legend of Constancie, st. 31)
Death is an equall doome
To good and bad, the common In of rest.
- The Faerie Queene (II, 59) [Death]
Don Chaucer. well of English undefyled
On Fame's eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
- The Faerie Queene (IV, 2, 32) [Language]
What more felicitie can fall to creature
Than to enjoy delight with libertie,
And to be lord of all the workes of Nature,
To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie,
To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature.
- The Fate of the Butterfly (l. 209)
Thy lord shall never die, the whiles this verse
Shall live, and surely it shall live for ever:
For ever it shall live, and shall rehearse
His worthy praise, and vertues dying never,
Though death his soule do from his bodie sever:
And thou thyselfe herein shalt also live;
Such grace the heavens doe to my verses give.
- The Ruines of Time (l. 253) [Immortality]
From good to bad, and from bad to worse,
From worse unto that is worst of all,
And then return to his former fall.
- The Shepherd's Calendar (Feb., l. 12)
And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
- The Shepherd's Calendar--December (L. 121)
First the high palme-trees, with braunches faire,
Out of the lowly vallies did arise,
And high shoote up their heads into the skyes.
- Virgil's Gnat (l. 191) [Palm]
Here also grew the rougher rinded pine,
The great Argoan ship's brave ornament.
- Virgil's Gnat (l. 209) [Pine]
High on a hill a goodly Cedar grewe,
Of wond'rous length and streight proportion,
That farre abroad her daintie odours threwe;
'Mongst all the daughters of proud Libanon,
Her match in beautie was not anie one.
- Visions of the World's Vanitie (st. 7)
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