Christopher Marlowe Quotes
Christopher Marlowe delivers grand, tragic reflections on grief and destiny.
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And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes, Be proof of my grief and innocency.
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My swelling heart for very anger breaks.
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What should a priest do with so fair a house? A prison may best beseem his holiness.
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Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
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Come live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, And see the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies.
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All they that love not tobacco and boys are fools.
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Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles? Usumcasane and Theridamas, Is it not passing brave to be a king, And ride in triumph through Persepolis?
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And sooner shall the sun fall from his sphere Than Tamburlaine be slain or overcome.
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From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of war, Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine Threatening the world with high astounding terms, And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword. View but his picture in this tragic glass, And then applaud his fortunes as you please.
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Where death cuts off the progress of his pomp And murderous fates throw all his triumphs down.
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Well, bark, ye dogs; I'll bridle all your tongues.
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Let Earth and Heaven his timeless death deplore, For both their worths shall equal him no more.
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Come, let us march against the powers of heaven, And set black streamers in the firmament, To signify the slaughter of the gods.
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I count religion but a childish toy, And hold there is no sin but ignorance.
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Infinite riches in a little room.
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Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.
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Now will I show myself to have more of the serpent than the dove; that is, more knave than fool.
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So march away, and let due praise be given Neither to fate nor fortune, but to Heaven.
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Love me little, love me long.
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What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera: What will be, shall be? Divinity, adieu!
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When all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven.
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Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one self place; but where we are is hell, And where hell is, there must we ever be.
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My heart is harden'd, I cannot repent.
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Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!
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O, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
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Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man.
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Comparisons are odious.
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I'm armed with more than complete steel,- The justice of my quarrel.
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Nature that framed us of four elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds: Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend 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, Wills 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 an earthly crown.
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Ah fair Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate, Fair is too foul an epithet for thee.
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Accursed be he that first invented war.
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That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
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If we say that we have no sin, We deceive ourselves, and there's no truth in us. Why then belike we must sin, And so consequently die. Ay, we must die an everlasting death.
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O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, / And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found!
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Above our life we love a steadfast friend.
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What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
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Time doth run with calm and silent foot, Shortening my days and thread of vital life.
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Lone women, like to empty houses, perish.
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Honour is purchas'd by the deeds we do.
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Accurst be he that first invented war.
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All live to die, and rise to fall.
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There is no sin but ignorance.
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Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, Compared with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth.
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He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.
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Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.
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Blood is the god of war's rich livery.
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FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm.] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night!
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Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.
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It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.
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I am Envy...I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned.