His Loss
All has been plunder'd from me but my wit:
Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.
poem by Robert Herrick
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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.
poem by Robert Herrick
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No Pains, No Gains
If little labour, little are our gains;
Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Miseries
Though hourly comforts from the gods we see,
No life is yet life-proof from misery.
poem by Robert Herrick
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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.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Rewards
Still to our gains our chief respect is had ;
Reward it is that makes us good or bad.
poem by Robert Herrick
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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.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Pardons
Those ends in war the best contentment bring,
Whose peace is made up with a pardoning.
poem by Robert Herrick
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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.
poem by Robert Herrick
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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.
poem by Robert Herrick
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