Treasure Island

John Fletcher

(20 December 1579 - 29 August 1625 / Rye, Sussex, England)

Quotations

  • ''I have touched the highest point of all my greatness,
    And from that full meridian of my glory
    I haste now to my setting. I shall fall
    Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
    And no man see me more.''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist, and dramatist dramatist, British dramatist. King Henry VIII (III, ii). . . The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
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  • ''Orpheus with his Lute made Trees,
    And the Mountaine tops that freeze,
    Bow themselves when he did sing.
    To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers
    Ever spring; as Sunne and Showres,
    There had been a lasting Spring.
    Every thing that heard him play,
    Even the Billowes of the Sea,
    Hung their heads, and then lay by.
    In sweet Musicke is such Art,
    Killing care, and griefe of heart,
    Fall asleepe, or hearing dye.''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist, and William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet, dramatist. King Henry VIII (III, i). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Do not fear to put thy feet
    Naked in the river sweet;
    Think not leech, or newt, or toad
    Will bite thy foot when thou hast trod;
    Nor let the water, rising high,
    As thou wadest, make thee cry,
    And sob; but ever live with me,
    And not a wave shall trouble thee.''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist. The Faithful Shepherdess (III, i). . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Now, good night! may Sweetest Slumbers
    And soft Silence fall in numbers
    On your Eye-lids: So, farewell;
    Thus I end my Evening knell.''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist. The Faithful Shepherdess (II, i). . . Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, The. H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds. (1934) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley;
    Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist. The Nice Valor (III, iii). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Joys as winged dreams fly fast,
    Why should sadness longer last?
    Grief is but a wound to woe;
    Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist. John Fletcher and others. The Queen of Corinth (III, ii). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''All Love's Emblems and all cry,
    Ladies, if not pluckt we dye,''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist. The Tragedy of Valentinian (II, v). . . New Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1950. Helen Gardner, ed. (1972) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Hear, ye ladies that despise,
    What the mighty Love has done;
    Fear examples, and be wise:''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist. The Tragedy of Valentinian (II, v). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,
    Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist. The Tragedy of Valentinian (V, ii). . . Oxford Book of Short Poems, The. P. J. Kavanagh and James Michie, eds. Oxford University Press.
  • ''Come, all sad and solemn shows,
    That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes!
    We convent nought else but woes,
    We convent nought else but woes.''
    John Fletcher (1579-1625), British dramatist, and dramatist dramatist, British dramatist. The Two Noble Kinsmen (I, v). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.

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Hymn to Pan

SING his praises that doth keep
   Our flocks from harm.
Pan, the father of our sheep;
   And arm in arm
Tread we softly in a round,
Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground
Fills the music with her sound.

Pan, O great god Pan, to thee

[Hata Bildir]