Thomas Heywood Quotes

The world’s a theatre, the earth a stage
Which God and Nature do with actors fill.

Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day!
With night we banish sorrow.
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft
To give my Love good-morrow!
Wings from the wind to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow:
Bird, prune thy wing! nightingale, sing!

I hold he loves me best that calls me Tom.

Seven cities warred for Homer being dead,
Who living had no roofe to shrowd his head.

With this kiss I wed thee once again.

Her that ruled the rost in the kitchen.