27 John Suckling Quotes
John Suckling offers wistful, lyrical reflections that drift between love, fate, and lofty ideas.
John Suckling quotes
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Why so pale and wan, fond lover Prithee, why so pale?
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Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
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Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move: This cannot take her. If of herself she cannot love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!
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If I a fancy take To black and blue, That fancy doth it beauty make.
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'Tis now since I sat down before That foolish fort, a heart, (Time strangely spent) a year, and more, And still I did my part:
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Oh for some honest lover's ghost, Some kind unbodied post Sent from the shades below! I strangely long to know Whether the nobler chaplets wear Those that their mistress' scorn did bear, Or those that were used kindly.
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Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light; But oh, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight.
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Her lips were red, and one was thin; Compared with that was next her chin,- Some bee had stung it newly.
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'T is expectation makes a blessing dear; Heaven were not heaven if we knew what it were.
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She is pretty to walk with, And witty to talk with, And pleasant, too, to think on.
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Her face is like the milky way i' the sky,-
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But as when an authentic watch is shown, Each man winds up and rectifies his own,
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
Permalink to quote #13 Attribution disputed; shown as originally published.
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Nick of time.
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'High characters,' cries one, and he would see Things that ne'er were, nor are, nor e'er will be.
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Also attributed
Success is a rare paint, hides all the ugliness.
A health to the nut-brown lass, With the hazel eyes: let it pass. . . . . As much to the lively grey 'Tis as good i' th' night as day: . . . . She's a savour to the glass, And excuse to make it pass.
Opportunity, to statesmen, is as the just degree of heat to chemists; it perfects all the work.
Tis love in love that makes the sport.
Abruptness is an eloquence in parting, when spinning out the time is but the weaving of new sorrow.
Our sins, like to our shadows, when our day was in its glory, scarce appeared; toward our evening, how great and monstrous!
A quiet mediocrity is still to be preferred before a troubled superfluity.
I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?
Out upon it, I have loved Three whole days together; And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather.
Beauties that from worth arise are like the grace of deities.
Tis not the meat, but 'tis the appetite makes eating a delight.
Joy never feasts so high as when the first course is of misery.