Works

Fair and foul days trip cross and pile; the fair
Far less in number than our foul days are.

Though good things answer many good intents,
Crosses do still bring forth the best events.

Nero commanded; but withdrew his eyes
From the beholding death and cruelties.

'Tis but a dog-like madness in bad kings,
For to delight in wounds and murderings:
As some plants prosper best by cuts and blows,
So kings by killing do increase their foes.

Nothing can be more loathsome than to see
Power conjoin'd with Nature's cruelty.

Thou see'st me, Lucia, this year droop;
Three zodiacs fill'd more, I shall stoop;
Let crutches then provided be
To shore up my debility:
Then, while thou laugh'st, I'll sighing cry,...

The lictors bundled up their rods; beside,
Knit them with knots with much ado unti'd,
That if, unknitting, men would yet repent,
They might escape the lash of punishment.

As oft as night is banish'd by the morn,
So oft we'll think we see a king new born.

Time is the bound of things; where'er we go
Fate gives a meeting, Death's the end of woe.

Break off delay, since we but read of one
That ever prospered by cunctation.

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher;...

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher:...

Women, although they ne'er so goodly make it,
Their fashion is, but to say no, to take it.

What can I do in poetry,
Now the good spirit's gone from me?
Why, nothing now but lonely sit
And over-read what I have writ.

Who forms a godhead out of gold or stone
Makes not a god, but he that prays to one.

If wholesome diet can recure a man,
What need of physic or physician?

More discontents I never had
Since I was born, than here;
Where I have been, and still am, sad,
In this dull Devonshire.
Yet justly too I must confess,
I ne'er invented such...

Fortune no higher project can devise
Than to sow discord 'mongst the enemies.

Cynthius, pluck ye by the ear,
That ye may good doctrine hear;
Play not with the maiden-hair,
For each ringlet there's a snare.
Cheek, and eye, and lip, and chin -
These are traps to take fools in....

Kings must not oft be seen by public eyes:
State at a distance adds to dignities.