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To hear him speak, and sweetly smile You were in Paradise the while. - Friend's Passion for his Astrophel [Friends] 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? [Jewels] 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 [Authorship] Displaying page 8 of 8 for this author: << Prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 [8]
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