Francis Beaumont

"Nose, nose, jolly red nose, And who gave thee that jolly red nose? Nutmegs and ginger, cinammon and cloves; And they gave me this jolly red nose."

"Shes private to herself and best of knowledge Whom shell make so happy as to sigh for."

"He that hath such acuteness, and such wit, As would aske ten good heads to husband it; He that can write so well that no man dare Refuse it for the best, let him beware: BEAUMONT is dead, by whose sole death appeares, Wit’s a Disease consumes men in few yeares."

"Mortality, behold and fear! What a change of flesh is here! Think how many royal bones Sleep within this heap of stones: Here they lie, had realms and lands, Who now want strength to stir their hands"