Beaumont was a man of great personal beauty and charm. Ben Jonson was much attracted to him. Fletcher delighted to do him honour and to put his name first on their title page; though it is probable that Beaumont’s share in the plays was the lesser one. See following verses by Sir Aston Cokaine in the 1st Collection of their works, published 1647:— “In the large book of playes you late did print, In Beaumont and in Fletcher’s name, why in’t Did you not justice? Give to each his due? For Beaumont of those many writ in few, And Massinger in other few; the main Being sole issues of sweet Fletcher’s brain. But how came I, you ask, so much to know? Fletcher’s chief bosome-friend inform’d me so.” [Sidenote: _Fletcher’s lament for his Friend_] The following lines were written by Fletcher on the death of Beaumont:— “Come, sorrow, come! bring all thy cries, All thy laments, and all thy weeping eyes! Burn out, you living monuments of woe! Sad, sullen griefs, now rise and overflow! Virtue is dead; Oh! cruel fate! All youth is fled; All our laments too late. Oh, noble youth, to thy ne’er dying name, Oh, happy youth, to thy still growing fame, To thy long peace in earth, this sacred knell Our last loves ring—farewell, farewell, farewell! Go, happy soul, to thy eternal birth! And press his body lightly, gentle Earth.” [Sidenote: _An Epitaph_] And among the poems attributed to Francis Beaumont is one generally supposed to be addressed to Fletcher, and speaking of an alliance hidden from the world—of which the last five lines run:— “If when I die, physicians doubt What caused my death, and these to view Of all their judgments, which was true, Rip up my heart; O, then I fear The world will see thy picture there.” —though it is perhaps more probable that it was addressed to Beaumont by Fletcher, and has accidentally found place among the former’s writings. In the _Maids Tragedy_ by B. and F., (Act I. Scene i.) we have Melantius speaking about his companion Amintor, a young nobleman:— “All joys upon him! for he is my friend. Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend: His worth is great; radiant he is, and temperate; And one that never thinks his life his own, If his friend need it.” [Sidenote: _Vauvenargues on De Seytres_]