Quotes by Edmund Spenser

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It is the mind that maketh good or ill, that maketh wretch or happy, rich or poor.

Beauty is the bait which with delight allures man to enlarge his kind.
But Justice, though her dome [doom] she doe prolong,Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.
The weary yeare his race now hauing run, The new begins his compast course anew; with shew of morning mylde he hath begun, betokening peace and plenty to ensew.
Most glorious Lord of lyfe, that on this day Didst make thy triumph over death and sin, And having harrowed hell, didst bring away Captivity thence captive, us to win: This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin.
Is not thilke the mery moneth of May, When loue lads masken in fresh aray? How falles it then, we no merrier bene, Ylike as other, girt in gawdy greene? Our bloncket liueryes bene all to sadde, For thilke same season, when all is ycladd With pleasaunce.
You naked trees, whose shady leaues are lost, Wherein the byrds were wont to build their bowre: And now are clothd with mosse and hoary frost, Instede of bloosmes, wherewith your buds did flowre: I see your teares, that from your boughes doe raine, Whose drops in drery ysicles remaine.
Let endless Peace your steadfast hearts accord, And blessed Plentie wait vpon your bord; And let your bed with pleasures chast abound, That fruitfull issue may to you afford Which may your foes confound, And make your joyes redound.