Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

Yet what are they, the learned and the great?
Awhile of longer wonderment the theme!
Who shall read more

Yet what are they, the learned and the great?
Awhile of longer wonderment the theme!
Who shall presume to prophesy their date,
Where nought is certain save the uncertainty of fate?
- Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher,

Nature too unkind;
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

Nature too unkind;
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

There is a method in man's wickedness,
It grows up by degrees.

There is a method in man's wickedness,
It grows up by degrees.

This is a pretty flimflam.

This is a pretty flimflam.

Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortune's false lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; read more

Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortune's false lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout,
That, bearing all mischance, dares last it out.