Maxioms by Francis Beaumont And John Fletcher
No better than you should be.
No better than you should be.
He shall have chariots easier than air,
That I will have invented; . . . And thyself,
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He shall have chariots easier than air,
That I will have invented; . . . And thyself,
That art the messenger, shalt ride before him
On a horse cut out of an entire diamond.
That shall be made to go with golden wheels,
I know not how yet.
Nature too unkind;
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!
Nature too unkind;
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!
Then, everlasting Love, restrain thy will;
'Tis god-like to have power, but not to kill.
Then, everlasting Love, restrain thy will;
'Tis god-like to have power, but not to kill.
