Quote #8
Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly! There's naught in this life sweet But only melancholy; O sweetest melancholy!
More from John Fletcher
- Let's meet and either do or die.
- Drink today, and drown all sorrow; You shall perhaps not do't tomorrow.
- There is no jesting with edge tools.
- And he that will to bed go sober Falls with the leaf in October.
- Of all the paths lead to a woman's love Pity's the straightest.
- Three merry boys, and three merry boys, And three merry boys are we. As ever did sing in a hempen string Under the gallows tree.
- Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that's gone; Violets plucked, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again.
- Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears! But first…