Maxioms by Francis Beaumont And John Fletcher
There's nothing that allays an angry mind
So soon as a sweet beauty.
There's nothing that allays an angry mind
So soon as a sweet beauty.
It would talk;
Lord, how it talked!
It would talk;
Lord, how it talked!
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.
Come, sing now, sing; for I know you sing well;
I see you have a singing face.
Come, sing now, sing; for I know you sing well;
I see you have a singing face.
Something given that way.
Something given that way.
