Robert Southwell Quotes

My conscience is my crown,
Contented thoughts my rest;
My heart is happy in itself,
My bliss is in my breast. Enough I reckon wealth;
A mean the surest lot,
That lies too high for base contempt,
Too low for envy's shot.

My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns;
Love is the fire and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;
The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals;
The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls.

Though all the East did quake to hear
Of Alexander's dreadful name,
And all the West did likewise fear
To hear of Julius Cæsar's fame.

In Aman's pomp poor Mardocheus wept,
Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe;
The Lazar pined while Dives' feast was kept,
Yet he to heaven, to hell did Dives go.
We trample grass and prize the flowers of May,
Yet grass is green when flowers do fade away.

Times go by turns and chances change by course,
From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.

Not Solomon, for all his wit,
Nor Samson, though he were so strong,
No king nor person ever yet
Could 'scape, but Death laid him along.

Behold a silly tender babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight.

As in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear.

Shun delays, they breed remorse;
Take thy time while time is lent thee;
Creeping snails have weakest force,
Fly their fault lest thou repent thee.
Good is best when soonest wrought,
Linger’d labours come to nought.

Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights,
A brief wherein all marvels summèd lie,
Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store,
Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more.

Before my face the picture hangs,
That daily should put me in mind
Of those cold names and bitter pangs,
That shortly I am like to find:
But yet, alas! full little I
Do think hereon that I must die.

No joy so great but runneth to an end,
No hap so hard but may in fine amend.

I feel no care of coin,
Well-doing is my wealth;
My mind to me an empire is,
While grace affordeth health.

To rise by others' fall
I deem a losing gain;
All states with others' ruins built
To ruin run amain.

When Fortune smiles, I smile to think
How quickly she will frown.