Christopher Marlowe Quotes

This tottered ensign of my ancestors
Which swept the desert shore of that dead sea
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon these castle-walls.
Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And sing aloud the knell of Gaveston!

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.

Mephistopheles: Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?

Live and die in Aristotle's works.

What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?

The mightiest kings have had their minions; Great Alexander loved Hephaestion, The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept; And for Patroclus, stern Achilles drooped. And not kings only, but the wisest men: The Roman Tully loved Octavius, Grave Socrates, wild Alcibiades.

It is a comfort to the miserable to have comrades in misfortune, but it is a poor comfort after all.

O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

MACHEVILL: I count religion but a childish toy,
And hold there is no sin but ignorance.

Bene disserer est finis logices.
(The end of logic is to dispute well.)

Faustus: Stay, Mephistopheles, and tell me, what good will
my soul do thy lord?
Mephistopheles: Enlarge his kingdom.
Faustus: Is that the reason he tempts us thus?
Mephistopheles: Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.
(It is a comfort to the wretched to have companions in misery)

Philosophy is odious and obscure;
Both law and physic are for petty wits;
Divinity is basest of the three,
Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile.
'Tis magic, magic that hath ravished me.

Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
And burnèd is Apollo's laurel-bough,
That sometime grew within this learnèd man.

What art thou Faustus, but a man condemned to die?

My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, / Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.

Now I will show myselfTo have more of the serpent than the dove;That is
more knave than fool.

As in plain terms (yet cunningly) he crav'd it; / Love always makes those eloquent that have it (II.71-2).

Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, Compared with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth.

What makes my bed seem hard seeing it is soft?
Or why slips downe the Coverlet so oft?
Although the nights be long, I sleepe not tho,
My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro.
Were Love the cause, it's like I shoulde descry him,
Or lies he close, and shoots where none can spie him?
T'was so, he stroke me with a slender dart,
Tis cruell love turmoyles my captive hart.
Yeelding or striving doe we give him might,
Lets yeeld, a burden easly borne is light.
I saw a brandisht fire increase in strength,
Which being not shakt, I saw it die at length.
Yong oxen newly yokt are beaten more,
Then oxen which have drawne the plow before.
And rough jades mouths with stubburn bits are tome,
But managde horses heads are lightly borne,
Unwilling Lovers, love doth more torment,
Then such as in their bondage feele content.
Loe I confesse, I am thy captive I,
And hold my conquered hands for thee to tie.
What needes thou warre, I sue to thee for grace,
With armes to conquer armlesse men is base,
Yoke VenusDoves, put Mirtle on thy haire,
Vulcan will give thee Chariots rich and faire.
The people thee applauding thou shalte stand,
Guiding the harmelesse Pigeons with thy hand.
Yong men and women, shalt thou lead as thrall,
So will thy triumph seeme magnificall.
I lately cought, will have a new made wound,
And captive like be manacled and bound.
Good me

It is a comfort in wretchedness to have companions in woe.

Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistopheles!

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.--
'[kisses her]'
Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!--
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sack'd;
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest;
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appear'd to hapless Semele;
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms;
And none but thou shalt be my paramour!

All beasts are happy,
For, when they die,
Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements;
But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell.
Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!
No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer
That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.

Heavens can witness I love none but you:
From my embracements thus he breaks away.
O that mine arms could close this isle about,
That I might pull him to me where I would!
Or that these tears that drizzle from mine eyes
Had power to mollify his stony heart,
That when I had him we might never part.

Accurst be he that first invented war.

If I be cruel and grow tyrannous,
Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late.

From jygging vaines of riming mother wits,
And such conceits as clownage keepes in pay,
Weele leade you to the stately tent of War:
Where you shall heare the Scythian Tamburlaine,
Threatning the world with high astounding tearms
And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword.
View but his picture in this tragicke glasse,
And then applaud his fortunes if you please.

Thus Time, and all-states-ordering Ceremony
Had banished all offense: Time's golden thigh
Upholds the flowery body of the earth
In sacred harmony, and every birth
Of men and actions makes legitimate,
Being used aright. The use of time is Fate.

---From "Hero and Leander, Sestiad III

Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.

Religion! O Diabole! Fie, I am asham'd, however that I seem, To think a word of such simple sound, Of such great matter should be made the ground.

Menaphon:
Your Majestie shall shortly have your wish,
And ride in triumph through Persepolis.
Tamburlaine:
And ride in triumph through Persepolis?
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?

Our swords shall play the orators for us.

Confess and be hanged.

Honour is purchas'd by the deeds we do.

Heaven, envious of our joys, is waxen pale;
And when we whisper, then the stars fall down
To be partakers of our honey talk.
(Dido, Queen of Carthage 4.4.52-54)

That holy shape becomes a devil best.

KING EDWARD: But what is he whom rule and empery
Have not in life or death made miserable?

Edward:
Well Mortimer, ile make thee rue these words,
Beseemes it thee to contradict thy king?
Frownst thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster,
The sworde shall plane the furrowes of thy browes,
And hew these knees that now are growne so stiffe.
I will have Gaveston, and you shall know,
What danger tis to stand against your king.
Gaveston:
Well doone, Ned.

Goodness is beauty in its best mistake

Love me little, love me long.

Bell, book, and candle, candle book and bell, forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell.
Anon you shall hear a hog grunt,a calf bleat, and an ass bray,
Because it is Saint Peter's holy day

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.

Hell and confusion light upon their heads.

The God Thou servest is thine own appetite, wherein is fixed the love of Beelzebub. To Him I'll build an altar and a church, and offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes.

You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then stab, when occasion serves.

Money can't buy love, but it improves your bargaining position.

That like I best that flies beyond my reach.
Set me to scale the high pyramids
And thereon set the diadem of France;
I'll either rend it with my nails to nought,
Or mount the top with my aspiring wings,
Although my downfall be the deepest hell.

USUMCASANE: To be a king, is half to be a god.

Mephistopheles: Within the bowels of these elements,
Where we are tortured and remain forever.
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
In one self place, for where we are is hell,
And where hell is must we ever be.
And, to conclude, when all the world dissolves,
And every creature shall be purified,
All places shall be hell that is not heaven.

The general welcomes Tamburlaine receiv'd, When he arrived last upon the 1 stage, Have made our poet pen his Second Part, Where Death cuts off the progress of his pomp, And murderous Fates throw all his triumphs 2 down. But what became of fair

BARABAS: A reaching thought will search his deepest wits,
And cast with cunning for the time to come;
For evils are apt to happen every day.

Forbid me not to weep; he was my father;
And, had you lov'd him half so well as I,
You could not bear his death thus patiently.

Love always makes those eloquent that have it.

---From "Hero and Leander, Sestiad II

Strike up the drum and march courageously.

Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis veritas; 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. What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera,19 What will be, shall be? Divinity, adieu!

Virtue is the fount whence honor springs.

TAMBURLAINE: Nature, that fram'd 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.

FAUSTUS: Bell, book and candle, candle, book and bell,
Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell.

What feeds me destroys me.

Pluck up your hearts, since fate still rests our friend.

What nourishes me, destroys me

Wagner Doctor Faustus' student and servant: "Alas, poor slave! See how poverty jests in his nakedness. I know the villain's out of service, and so hungry that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood raw."
Robin a clown: "Not so, neither! I had need to have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear, I can tell you.

Things that are not at all, are never lost.

My father is deceast, come Gaveston,'
And share the kingdom with thy deerest friend.'
Ah words that make me surfet with delight:
What greater blisse can hap to Gaveston,
Then live and be the favorit of a king?
Sweete prince I come, these these thy amorous lines,
Might have enforst me to have swum from France,
And like Leander gaspt upon the sande,
So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy armes.
The sight of London to my exiled eyes,
Is as Elizium to a new come soule.
Not that I love the citie or the men,
But that it harbors him I hold so deare,
The king, upon whose bosome let me die,
And with the world be still at enmitie:
What neede the artick people love star-light,
To whom the sunne shines both by day and night.
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peeres,
My knee shall bowe to none but to the king.
As for the multitude that are but sparkes,
Rakt up in embers of their povertie,
Tanti: Ile fawne first on the winde,
That glaunceth at my lips and flieth away: ....

I must have wanton Poets, pleasant wits,
Musitians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please:
Musicke and poetrie is his delight,
Therefore ile have Italian maskes by night,
Sweete speeches, comedies, and pleasing showes,
And in the day when he shall walke abroad,
Like Sylvian Nimphes my pages shall be clad,
My men like Satyres grazing on the lawnes,
Shall with their Goate feete daunce an antick hay.
Sometime a lovelie boye in Dians shape,
With haire that gilds the water as it glides,
Crownets of pearle about his naked armes,
And in his sportfull hands an Olive tree,
To hide those parts which men delight to see,
Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard by,
One like Actaeon peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angrie goddesse be transformde,
And running in the likenes of an Hart,
By yelping hounds puld downe, and seeme to die.
Such things as these best please his majestie,
My lord.

Blood is the god of war's rich livery.

Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.

I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt; I am lean with seeing others eat - O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone; then thou should'st see how fat I would be! But must thou sit and I stand? Come down, with a vengeance!

YOUNGER MORTIMER: Fear'd am I more than lov'd; - let me be fear'd,
And, when I frown, make all the court look pale.

O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, / And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found!

Make me immortal with a kiss.

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
In one self place, for where we are is hell,
And where hell is must we ever be.

While money doesn't buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.

He that loves pleasure must for pleasure fall.

Hell is just a frame of mind.

BARABAS: Things past recovery
Are hardly cur'd with exclamations.
Be silent, daughter; sufferance breeds ease,
And time may yield us an occasion,
Which on the sudden cannot serve the turn.

I'm armed with more than complete steel, - The justice of my quarrel.

What virtue is it that is born with us?
Much less can honor be ascribed thereto,
Honor is purchased by the deeds we do.
Believe me, Hero, honor is not won,
Until some honorable deed be done.

----From "Hero and Leander, Sestiad I

TAMBURLAINE. [to BAJAZETH] Soft sir, you must be dieted, too much eating will make you surfeit.
THERIDAMAS. So it would my lord, specially having so smal a walke, and so litle exercise.

It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is overruled by fate.

The sight of London to my exiled eyes
Is as Elysium to a new-come soul.

I am Envy ... I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned.

Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships/And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?

TAMBURLAINE: Live still, my love, and so conserve my life,
Or, dying, be the author of my death.

He that pleasure loves must for pleasure fall

Time doth run with calm and silent foot,
Shortening my days and thread of vital life.

We control fifty percent of a relationship. We influence one hundred percent of it.

The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings.

Think'st thou heaven is such a glorious thing?
I tell thee, 'tis not so fair as thou
Or any man that breathes on earth.

Faustus: «Come, I think hell's a fable».
Mephistopheles: «Ay, think so still, until experience change thy mind».

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.

Love is not ful of pittie (as men say)
But deaffe and cruell, where he meanes to pray.

Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.

Ah fair Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate, Fair is too foul an epithet for thee.

Look, look, master, here comes two religious caterpillars.

Lone women, like to empty houses, perish.

All live to die, and rise to fall.

There is no sin but ignorance.

I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains,
And with my hand turn Fortune's wheel about;