Quotes from Thomas Nash

As like a church and an ale-house, God and the devell, they manie times dwell neere to ether.

All good things vanish in less than a day, Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year, The earth is hell when you leav'st to appear.

Beauty is but a flower, which wrinkles will devour.

Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devourBrightness falls from the airQueens have died young and fairDust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must dieLord have mercy on us.

Unhappy me," quoth she, "and will't not stand? Come, let me rub and chafe it with my hand. Perhaps the silly worm is laboured sore And wearièd that it can do no more.