Francis Quarles

(8 May 1592 – 8 September 1644 / Romford, Essex, England)

Quotations

  • ''Like to the Artick needle, that doth guide
    The wand'ring shade by his magnetick pow'r,
    And leaves his silken Gnomon to decide
    The question of the controverted houre;''
    Francis Quarles (1592-1644), British poet. I Am My Beloved's. . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
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  • ''Even like two little bank-dividing brooks,
    That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
    And having ranged and searched a thousand nooks,
    Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames
    Where in a greater current they conjoin:
    So I my Best-Beloved's am, so he is mine.''
    Francis Quarles (1592-1644), British poet. My Beloved Is Mine. . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Eternall God, O thou that onely art
    The sacred Fountain of eternall light,
    And blessed Loadstone of my better part;
    O thou my heart's desire, my soul's delight,
    Reflect upon my soul, and touch my heart,
    And then my heart shall prize no good above thee;
    And then my soul shall know thee; knowing, love thee;
    And then my trembling thoughts shall never start
    From thy commands, or swerve the least degree,
    Or once presume to move, but as they move in thee.''
    Francis Quarles (1592-1644), British poet. Now first be lov'd. . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Disclose thy Sun beames; close thy wings, and stay;
    See, see, how I am blind, and dead, and stray,
    O thou, that art my Light, my Life, my Way.''
    Francis Quarles (1592-1644), British poet. Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.

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On the World

The world's an Inn; and I her guest.
I eat; I drink; I take my rest.
My hostess, nature, does deny me
Nothing, wherewith she can supply me;
Where, having stayed a while, I pay
Her lavish bills, and go my way.

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