Sir Philip Sidney quotes

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Poetry ... is ... a speaking picture, with this end: to teach and delight.
O sweet woods, the delight of solitariness!
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange, one for the other given.
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss:
My true love hath my heart and I have his.
Nor envy's snaky eye, finds harbour here,
Nor flatterers' venomous insinuations,
Come Sleep! Oh Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
Thus, with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite:
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies;
How silently, and with how wan a face.
Yea, worse than death: death parts both woe and joy:
From joy I part, still living in annoy.
Oft have I mused, but now at length I find,
Why those that die, men say they do depart.
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