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| Christopher Marlowe
Above our life we love a steadfast friend. All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodies birds sing madrigals.
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, or hills, or fields,
Or woods and steepy mountains, yield.
Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd one self place; for where we are is Hell, and where Hell is, there must we ever be.Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia!
What, can ye draw but twenty miles a day?Honour is purchas'd by the deeds we do;
. . . honour is not won,
Until some honourable deed be done.
I am asham'd to hear such fooleries! I am Envy. I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned.
I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.
I'm armed with more than complete steel, -- The justice of my
quarrel.Infinite riches in a little room.
Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis? It is a comfort to the miserable to have comrades in misfortune, but it is a poor comfort after all.
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is over-rul'd by fate.
Look where he goes! but see he comes again
Because I stay! Techelles, let us march
And weary death with bearing souls to hell.
Love me little, love me long.
Mother Wit. (Nature's mother wit.)
Nature that framed us of four elements, warring within our breasts for regiment, doth teach us all to have aspiring minds.Now I will show myself
To have more of the serpent than the dove;
That is--more knave than fool.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies! Come Helen, come give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven be in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.The wondrous architecture of the world,
And measure every wandering planet's course,
Still climbing after knowledge infinite,
And always moving as the restless spheres,
Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest
Until we reach the ripest fruit of all,
That perfect bliss and sole felicity,
The sweet fruition of a heavenly crown.
Things that are not at all, are never lost.
To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin.
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day? When the world dissolves,
And every creature shall be purified,
All places shall be hell that are not heaven.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?
Who hateth me but for my happiness?
Or who is honored now but for his wealth?
Rather had I, a Jew, be hated thus,
Than pitied in a Christian poverty.
You can't depend on the man who made the mess to clean it up.You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell. |
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