How much pleasure they lose (and even the pleasures of heroic poesy are not unprofitable) who take away the liberty of a poet, and fetter his feet in the shackles of a historian. — William Davenant Copy Share Image
To a Mistress Dying Lover. YOUR beauty, ripe and calm and fresh As eastern summers are, Must now, forsaking time and flesh, Add light to some small star. Philosopher. Whilst she yet lives, were stars decay'd, Their light by hers… — William Davenant Copy Share Image
Actions rare and sudden do commonly proceed from fierce necessity, of else from some oblique design, which is ashamed to show itself in the… — William Davenant Copy Share Image
Calamity is the perfect glass wherein we truly see and know ourselves. — William Davenant Copy Share Image
Aubade THE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing shakes his dewy wings. He takes this window for the East, And to implore… — William Davenant Copy Share Image
Praise and Prayer PRAISE is devotion fit for mighty minds, The diff'ring world's agreeing sacrifice; Where Heaven divided faiths united finds: But Prayer in… — William Davenant Copy Share Image
For in a dearth of comforts, we art taught To be contented with the least. — William Davenant Copy Share Image
Go! dive into the Southern Sea, and when Th'ast found, to trouble the nice sight of men, A swelling pearl, and such whose single… — William Davenant Copy Share Image
How beautiful is sorrow when it is dressed by virgin innocence! it makes felicity in others seem deformed. — William Davenant Copy Share Image
