Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

I find the medicine worse than the malady.

I find the medicine worse than the malady.

We must all die!
All leave ourselves, it matters not where, when,
Nor how, so we die read more

We must all die!
All leave ourselves, it matters not where, when,
Nor how, so we die well; and can that man that does so
Need lamentation for him?

To a woman, the consciousness of being will dressed gives a sense
of tranquility which religion fails to bestow.

To a woman, the consciousness of being will dressed gives a sense
of tranquility which religion fails to bestow.

Nothing can cover his high fame but Heaven;
No pyramids set off his memories,
But the eternal read more

Nothing can cover his high fame but Heaven;
No pyramids set off his memories,
But the eternal substance of his greatness,--
To which I leave him.

It would talk;
Lord, how it talked!

It would talk;
Lord, how it talked!