Thomas Nashe

thumb| Thomas Nashe (November 1567 – c. 1601) was an English Elizabethan pamphleteer, poet and satirist. Quotes What is Logicke but the highe waie to wrangling, contayning in it a world of bibble babble. Neede we anie of your Greeke, Latine, Hebrue, or anie such gibbrige, when wee have the word of God in English? An Almond for a Parrot (1590) Evermore mayst thou be canonized as the Nonparreille of impious epistlers. Four Letters (1592) The Sun shineth as well on the good as the bad: God from on high beholdeth all the workers of iniquity, as well as the upright of heart. Christ's Tears over Jerusalem (1593) O, 'tis a precious apophthegmatical pedant who will find matter enough to dilate a whole day of the first invention of “Fy, fa, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman.” Have with You to Saffron-Walden (1596) Cf. Shakespeare, King Lear, act 3, sc. 4 The Terrors of the Night (1594) Dreaming is no other than groaning, while sleep our surgeon hath us in cure. A dream is nothing else but the echo of our conceits in the day. A dream is nothing else but a bubbling scum or froth of the fancy, which the day hath left undigested; or an after-feast made of the fragments of idle imaginations. Summer's Last Will and Testament (1600) Fair Summer droops, droop men and beasts therefore:So fair a summer look for never more.All good things vanish, less than in a day,Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay.Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year;The earth is hell when thou leav'st to appear. Lines 105–110 Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant King,Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu wee, to witta woo! Lines 161–164 (Song: "Spring, the sweet Spring", st. 1) Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day. Line 166 (Song: "Spring, the sweet Spring", st. 2) The fields breath sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit. Lines 169–170 (Song: "Spring, the sweet Spring", st. 3) Blest is that government where no art thrives. Line 1425 Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss,This world uncertain is,Fond are life’s lustful joys,Death proves them all but toys,None from his darts can fly;I am sick, I must die:Lord, have mercy on us. Lines 1574–1580 ("In Time of Pestilence, 1593", st. 1) Beauty is but a flowerWhich wrinkles will devour. Lines 1588–1589 ("In Time of Pestilence, 1593", st. 3) Brightness falls from the air,Queens have died young and fair,Dust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must die:Lord, have mercy on us. Lines 1590–1594 ("In Time of Pestilence, 1593", st. 3) Strength stoops unto the grave,Worms feed on Hector brave,Swords may not fight with fate,Earth still holds ope her gate.Come, come, the bells do cry.I am sick, I must die. Lines 1595–1600 ("In Time of Pestilence, 1593", st. 4) From winter, plague, and pestilence, good Lord, deliver us. Line 1878 External links Nash+Thomas Thomas Nashe Summers Last Will and Testament at ElizabethanAuthors Category:Poets from England Category:Satirists from England Category:1567 births Category:1600s deaths