She what was honour knew,

And with obsequious majesty approv'd

My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower

I led her blushing like the morn; all heaven

And happy constellations on that hour

Shed their selectest influence; the earth

Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill;

Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs

Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings

Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book viii. Line 508.

Her voice was ever soft,

Gentle, and low,—an excellent thing in woman.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Lear. Act v. Sc. 3.

A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc. 1.

For all that faire is, is by nature good;

That is a signe to know the gentle blood.

Edmund Spenser (1553-1599): An Hymne in Honour of Beautie. Line 139.

Loke who that is most vertuous alway,

Prive and apert, and most entendeth ay

To do the gentil dedes that he can,

And take him for the gretest gentilman.

Geoffrey Chaucer (1328-1400): Canterbury Tales. The Wif of Bathes Tale. Line 6695.

And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Dunciad. Book ii. Line 34.

Upon my burned body lie lightly, gentle earth.

Beaumont And Fletcher: The Maid's Tragedy. Act i. Sc. 2.

His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up

And say to all the world, "This was a man!"

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Julius Caesar. Act v. Sc. 5.

He was a veray parfit gentil knight.

Geoffrey Chaucer (1328-1400): Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 72.

Her face is like the milky way i' the sky,—

A meeting of gentle lights without a name.

Sir John Suckling (1609-1641): Brennoralt. Act iii.

Her gentle limbs did she undress,

And lay down in her loveliness.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): Christabel. Part i.

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;

Corruption wins not more than honesty.

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not:

Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,

Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

'T is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown;

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,

The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

But mercy is above this sceptred sway,

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's,

When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Gentle shepherd, tell me where.

Samuel Howard (1710-1782).

O sleep, O gentle sleep,

Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee,

That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down

And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come.

James Thomson (1700-1748): The Seasons. Spring. Line 1.

Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd;

Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd;

The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd,

And ease of heart her every look convey'd.

George Crabbe (1754-1832): The Parish Register. Part ii. Marriages.

Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream

My great example, as it is my theme!

Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;

Strong without rage; without o'erflowing, full.

Sir John Denham (1615-1668): Cooper's Hill. Line 189.

A charm

For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom

No sound is dissonant which tells of life.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): This Lime-tree Bower my Prison.