John Lyly

(1554 - November 1606 / Kent, England)

Quotations

  • ''Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
    Poor robin-redbreast tunes his note;
    Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing
    Cuckoo—to welcome in the spring!
    Cuckoo—to welcome in the spring!''
    John Lyly (1553-1606), British poet. Alexander and Campaspe. . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
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  • ''Cupid and my Campaspe played
    At cards for kisses,''
    John Lyly (1553-1606), British poet. Alexander and Campaspe. . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''What bird so sings, yet so does wail?
    O, 'tis the ravished nightingale!
    "Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu," she cries,
    And still her woes at midnight rise.
    Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear?
    None but the lark so shrill and clear;''
    John Lyly (1553-1606), British poet. Alexander and Campaspe. . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''A clear conscience is a sure card.''
    John Lyly (1554-1606), British author. Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit, "To the Gentlemen Scholars of Oxford," (1579), ed. Edward Arber (1868).
  • ''The sun shineth upon the dunghill, and is not corrupted.''
    John Lyly (1554-1606), British author. Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit, p. 43 (1579), ed. Edward Arber (1868).
  • ''When Pan sounds up his minstrelsy;
    His minstrelsy! O base! This quill,
    Which at my mouth with wind I fill,
    Puts me in mind, though her I miss,
    That still my Syrinx' lips I kiss.''
    John Lyly (1553-1606), British poet. Midas. . . Oxford Book of Sixteenth Century Verse, The. E. K. Chambers, comp. (1932) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Pan's Syrinx was a girl indeed,
    Though now she's turned into a reed;
    From that dear reed Pan's pipe does come,
    A pipe that strikes Apollo dumb;
    Nor flute, nor lute, nor gittern can
    So chant it, as the pipe of Pan;''
    John Lyly (1553-1606), British poet. Midas. . . Oxford Book of Sixteenth Century Verse, The. E. K. Chambers, comp. (1932) Oxford University Press.

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Spring's Welcome

WHAT bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat

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