1
Nay, could their numbers countervail the stars, Or ever-drizzling drops of April showers, Or wither'd leaves that autumn shaketh down, Yet would the Soldan by his conquering power So scatter and consume them in his rage, That not a man should live to rue their fall.Christopher Marlowe
2
Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest.Christopher Marlowe