Treasure Island

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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A Dittie

Behold her lockes like wiers of beaten gold,
her eies like starres that twinkle in the skie,
Her heauenly face not framd of earthly molde,
Her voice that sounds Apollos melodie,
The miracle of time, the [whole] worlds storie,
Fortunes Queen, Loues treasure, Natures glory.

No flattering hope she likes, blind Fortunes bait
nor shadowes of delight, fond fansies glasse,

[Hata Bildir]