My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns;Love is the fire and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals;The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls. — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
Hoist up sail while gale doth last, Tide and wind stay no man's pleasure. — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
Time wears all his locks before,Take thy hold upon his forehead;When he flies he turns no more,And behind his scalp is naked.Works adjourn'd have… — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
“Gift better than Himself God doth not know, Gift better than God no man can see; This gift doth here the giver given bestow… — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights,A brief wherein all marvels summèd lie,Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store,Most graceful all, yet… — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
The path to Heaven is narrow, rough and full of wearisome and trying ascents, nor can it be trodden without great toil; and therefore… — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
No joy so great but runneth to an end,No hap so hard but may in fine amend. — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
I feel no care of coin,Well-doing is my wealth;My mind to me an empire is,While grace affordeth health. — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
Times go by turns, and chances change by course, from foul to fair, from better hap to worse. — Robert Southwell Copy Share Image
