Francis Beaumont was a dramatist in the English Renaissance theatre, most famous for his collaborations with John Fletcher.
Beaumont was the son of Sir Francis Beaumont of Grace Dieu, near Thringstone in Leicestershire, a justice of the common pleas. He was born at the family seat and was educated at Broadgates Hall (now Pembroke College, Oxford) at age thirteen. Following the death of his father in 1598, he left university without a degree and followed in his father's footsteps by entering the Inner Temple in London in 1600.
Accounts suggest that Beaumont did not work long as a lawyer. He became a student of poet and playwright Ben Jonson ; he was also acquainted with ... more »
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Francis Beaumont Poems
May I find a woman fair, And her mind as clear as air, If her beauty go alone, 'Tis to me as if't were none.
On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey
MORTALITY, behold and fear! What a change of flesh is here! Think how many royal bones Sleep within this heap of stones:
Flattering Hope, away and leave me, She'll not come, thou dost deceive me; Hark the cock crows, th' envious light Chides away the silent night;
Never more will I protest, To love a woman but in jest: For as they cannot be true, So, to give each man his due,
Lay a garland on my hearse
Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew, Maidens, willow branches bear, Say I died true.
The Author to the Reader
I sing the fortune of a luckless pair, Whose spotless souls now in one body be; For beauty still is Prodromus to care, Crost by the sad stars of nativity:
To The True Patroness of all Poetry, Cal...
It is a statute in deep wisdom's lore, That for his lines none should a patron chuse By wealth and poverty, by less or more, But who the same is able to peruse:
To the true patronesse of all Poetrie,
IT is a statute in deepe wisdomes lore, That for his lines none should a patro[n] chuse By wealth or pouerty, by lesse or more,
Fie On Love
Now fie on foolish love, it not befits Or man or woman know it. Love was not meant for people in their wits, And they that fondly show it
Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jon...
The sun, which doth the greatest comfort bring To absent friends (because the self-same thing They know they see, however absent), is Here our best hay-maker (forgive me this,
Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ
Madam, so may my verses pleasing be, So may you laugh at them and not at me, 'Tis something to you gladly I would say; But how to do't I cannot find the way.
In Laudem Authoris.
Like to the weake estate of a poore friend, To whom sweet fortune hath bene euer slow, VVhich dayly doth that happy howre attend, VVhen his poore state may his affection shew:
On the Marriage of a Beauteous Young Gen...
Fondly, too curious Nature, to adorn Aurora with the blushes of the morn: Why do her rosy lips breath gums and spice; Unto the East, and sweet to Paradise?
An Elegy on the Lady Markham
As unthrifts groan in straw for their pawn'd beds, As women weep for their lost maidenheads, When both are without hope or remedy, Such an untimely grief I have for thee.
Comments about Francis Beaumont
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
May I find a woman fair,
And her mind as clear as air,
If her beauty go alone,
'Tis to me as if't were none.
May I find a woman rich,
And not of too high a pitch;
If that pride should cause disdain,
Tell me, lover, where's thy gain?
May I find a woman wise,
And her falseliood not disguise;
Hath she wit as she hath will,
Double arm'd she is to ill.
May I find a woman kind,
And not wavering like the wind:
How should I call that love mine,
When 'tis his, and his, and thine?
May I find a woman true,
There is Bettutv's fairest ...