Thomas Carew Quotes

19 Sourced Quotes

Here lies a king, that ruled as he thought fit
The universal monarchy of wit.

Thomas Carew
But if the envious nymphs shall fear
Their beauties will be scorn'd,
And hire the ruder winds to tear
That face which you adorn'd; Then rage and foam amain, that we
Their malice may despise;
And from your froth we soon shall see
A second Venus rise.

Thomas Carew
Ask me no more, if cast or west,
The phenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

Thomas Carew
Then fly betimes, for only they
Conquer Love that run away.

Thomas Carew
Give me more love or more disdain;
The torrid or the frozen zone:
Bring equal ease unto my pain;
The temperate affords me none.

Thomas Carew
Good to the poor, to kindred dear,
To servants kind, to friendship clear,
To nothing but herself severe.

Thomas Carew
Thou shalt confess the vain pursuit Of human glory yields no fruit But an untimely grave.

Thomas Carew
The purest soul that e'er was sent
Into a clayey tenement.

Thomas Carew
Ask me no more if east or west
The Phoenix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

Thomas Carew
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or, from star-like eyes, doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

Thomas Carew
Though a stranger to this place,
Bewail in theirs thine own hard case:
For thou perhaps at thy return
Mayst find thy darling in an urn.

Thomas Carew
Ask me no more, where those stars light,
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become, as in their sphere.

Thomas Carew
Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.

Thomas Carew
Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Thomas Carew
So though a virgin, yet a bride
To every Grace, she justified
A chaste polygamy, and died.

Thomas Carew
Here lies a King that rul'd, as he thought fit The universal monarchy of wit; Here lies two flamens, and both those the best: Apollo's first, at last the true God's priest.

Thomas Carew
Stand still, you floods, do not deface
That image which you bear:
So votaries, from every place,
To you shall altars rear. No winds but lovers' sighs blow here,
To trouble these glad streams,
On which no star from any sphere
Did ever dart such beams.

Thomas Carew
The Muses' garden with pedantic weeds
O'erspread, was purged by thee; the lazy seeds
Of servile imitation thrown away,
And fresh invention planted.

Thomas Carew
Ask me no more, whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For, in pure love, Heaven did prepare
Those, powders to enrich your hair.

Thomas Carew