Thomas Nashe Quotes

Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath close’d Helen’s eye. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us!

From winter, plague and pestilence, good lord, deliver us!

Fair summer droops, droop men and beasts therefore: So fair a summer look for never more. All good things vanish, less than in a day, Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay. Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year; The earth is hell when thou leav’st to appear.

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king, Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

Immortal Spenser, no frailty hath thy fame but the imputation of this idiot’s friendship!

I will confer with thee somewhat gravely, although thou beest a goosecap and hast no judgement.