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Come, sing now, sing for I know you sing well I see you have a singing face.

John Fletcher

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John Fletcher
Age: 45 †
Born: 1579
Born: November 30
Died: 1625
Died: August 1
Dramatist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Rye
East Sussex
Come
Well
Sing
Singing
Face
Faces
Music
Wells

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I find the medicine worse than the malady.
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O woman, perfect woman! what distraction Was meant to mankind when thou wast made a devil!
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Joys as winged dreams fly fast, / Why should sadness longer last? / Grief is but a wound to woe / Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.
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A woman friend! He that believes that weakness, Steers in a stormy night without a compass.
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Only look to Jesus. He died for you, died in your place, died under the frowns of heaven, that we might die under its smile.
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Tyranny is yielding to the lust of the governing.
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'Tis virtue, and not birth that makes us noble: Great actions speak great minds, and such should govern.
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Of all the forms of wisdom, hindsight is by general consent the least merciful, the most unforgiving.
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Go far - too far you cannot, still the farther. The more experience finds you: and go sparing. One meal a week will serve you, and one suit, through all your travels for you'll find it certain.
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That soul that can Be honest is the only perfect man.
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Man is his own star, and the soul that can, render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light, all influence, all fate: nothing to him falls early or too late. Our acts are angels are, for good or ill: our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
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It's impossible to ravish me, I'm so willing.
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Charity and treating begin at home.
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Deeds, not words shall speak me.
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Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose.
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Man is his own star, and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light.
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Then, everlasting Love , restrain thy will 'Tis god -like to have power, but not to kill.
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Great actions speak great minds.
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We must not be content to be cleansed from sin we must be filled with the Spirit.
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Ask how to live? Write, write, write, anything The world's a fine believing world, write news.
John Fletcher