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Robert Herrick

His Loss

All has been plunder'd from me but my wit:
Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.

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No Man Without Money

No man such rare parts hath, that he can swim,
If favour or occasion help not him.

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No Pains, No Gains

If little labour, little are our gains;
Man's fortunes are according to his pains.

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Miseries

Though hourly comforts from the gods we see,
No life is yet life-proof from misery.

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The Voice And Viol

Rare is the voice itself: but when we sing
To th' lute or viol, then 'tis ravishing.

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Rewards

Still to our gains our chief respect is had ;
Reward it is that makes us good or bad.

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On Love

Love's of itself too sweet; the best of all
Is, when love's honey has a dash of gall.

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Pardons

Those ends in war the best contentment bring,
Whose peace is made up with a pardoning.

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Satisfaction For Sufferings

For all our works a recompence is sure;
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.

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Dreams

Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.

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