Philip Massinger

I have play'd the fool, the gross fool, to believe
The bosom of a friend will hold a secret
read more

I have play'd the fool, the gross fool, to believe
The bosom of a friend will hold a secret
Mine own could not contain.

He
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard read more

He
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard valour.
This life's a fort committed to my trust,
Which I must not yield up, till it be forced:
Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die,
But he that boldly bears calamity.

You may boldly say, you did not plough
Or trust the barren and ungrateful sands
With the read more

You may boldly say, you did not plough
Or trust the barren and ungrateful sands
With the fruitful grain of your religious counsels.

We, that would be known
The father of our people, in our study,
And vigilance for their read more

We, that would be known
The father of our people, in our study,
And vigilance for their safety, must not change
Their ploughshares into swords, and force them from
The secure shade of their own vines, to be
Scorched with the flames of war.

What a fine man
Hath your tailor made you!

What a fine man
Hath your tailor made you!