But Justice, though her dome doom she doe prolong,
Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.
Pour out the wine without restraint or stay, Pour not by cups, but by the bellyful, pour out to all that wull.
Yet is there one more cursed than they all, that canker-worm, that monster, jealousy, which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, turning all love’s delight to misery, through fear of losing his felicity.
What more felicity can fall to man than to enjoy delight with liberty?
He whose days in wilful woe are worn, the grace of his Creator doth despise, that will not use his gifts for thankless niggardise.
O sacred hunger of ambitious minds!
Under thy mantle black, there hidden lie, light-shunning theft, and traitorous intent, abhorred bloodshed, and vile felony, shameful deceit, and danger imminent, foul horror, and eke hellish dreriment.
Who will not mercy unto others show, how can he mercy ever hope to have?
The troubled blood through his pale face was seen to come and go with tidings from his heart, as it a running messenger had been.
A man may as easily fill a chest with grace as the heart with gold. — The air fills not the body, neither does money the covetous heart of man.
No place, no company, no age, no person is temptation-free; let no man boast that he was never tempted, let him not be high-minded, but fear, for he may be surprised in that very instance wherein he boasteth that he was never tempted at all.
- William Wordsworth English Poet
- John Dryden English Poet
- Geoffrey Chaucer English Poet
- John Webster English Dramatist
- John Masefield English Poet
- Ben Jonson English Dramatist
- Percy Bysshe Shelley English Poet
- John Milton English Poet
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning English Poet
- Christina Rossetti English Poet