SAMUEL DANIEL

By adversity are wrought the greatest works of admiration, and all the fair examples of renown, out of distress and misery are grown.

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using.

The wise are above books.

And for the few that only lend their ear, That few is all the world.

Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Whose short refresh upon tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show And straight is gone, as it had never been.

Custom, that is before all law; Nature, that is above all art.

We come to know best what men are, in their worse jeopardizes.

Striving to tell his woes, words would not come; For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dumb.

The stars that have most glory have no rest.

The greatest enemy a man can have is his prosperity.

And who in time knows whither we may vent the treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores this gain of our best glories shall be sent, 't unknowing Nations with our stores? What worlds in the yet unformed Occident may come refined with the accents that are ours?

Th aspirer, once attaind unto the top, Cuts off those means by which himself got up.

Love is a sickness full of woes, all remedies refusing.

Flattery, the dangerous nurse of vice.

But years hath done this wrong, To make me write too much, and live too long.

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my languish and restore the light; With dark forgetting of my care return. And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth: Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn Without the torment of the night's untruth.

The absent danger greater still appears less fears he who is near the thing he fears.

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born; Relive my languish, and restore the light.

This many-headed monster, Multitude.

Sacred religion! mother of form and fear.