Thomas Kyd Quotes

I think Horatio be my destin'd plague:
First, in his hand he brandished a sword,
And with that sword he fiercely waged war,
And in that war he gave me dangerous wounds,
And by those wounds he forced me to yield,
And by my yielding I became his slave.
Now in his mouth he carries pleasing words,
Which pleasing words do harbour sweet conceits,
Which sweet conceits are lim'd with sly deceits,
Which sly deceits smooth Bellimperia's ears,
And through her ears dive down into her heart,
And in her heart set him, where I should stand.

Oh eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears; O life, no life, but lively form of death; Oh world, no world, but mass of public wrongs.

Under feigned jest
Are things conceal'd that else would breed unrest.

Fear shall force what friendship cannot win.

VICEROY OF PORTUGAL. ...My late ambition hath distain'd my faith;
My breach of faith occasion'd bloody wars;
Those bloody wars have spent my treasure;
And with my treasure my people's blood;
And with their blood, my joy and best belov'd
My best belov'd, my sweet and only son.
O, wherefore went I not to war myself
The cause was mine; I might have died for both:
My years were mellow, his but young and green;
My death were natural, but his was forc'd.

A guilty conscience, urged with the thought
Of former evils, easily cannot err.

BEL-IMPERIA: Oh let me go; for in my troubled eyes
Now may'st thou read that life in passion dies.
HORATIO: Oh stay a while, and I will die with thee;
So shalt thou yield, and yet have conquered me.

The less I speak, the more I meditate.

Where words prevail not, violence prevails.

HIERONIMO. O eyes! no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;
O life! no life, but lively form of death
O world! no world, but mass of public wrongs,
Confus'd and fill'd with murder and misdeeds!
O sacred heav'ns! if this unhallowed deed,
If this inhuman and barbarous attempt,
If this incomparable murder thus
Of mine, but now no more my son,
Shall unreveal'd and unreveng'd pass,
How should we term your dealings to be just,
If you unjustly deal with those that in your justice trust?

I'll trust myself, myself shall be my friend.

That that is good for the body is likewise good for the soul.

I list not trust the air
With utterance of our pretence therein,
For fear the privy whisp'ring of the wind
Convey our words amongst unfriendly ears,
That lie too open to advantages.

My son - and what's a song? A thing begot within a pair of minutes, thereabout, a lump bred up in darkness.

My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell.

Qui jacet in terra non habet unde cadat. In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo, Nil superest ut iam possit obesse magis." (loosely translated: "He who lies on the ground can fall no farther. In me, Fortune has exhausted her power of hurting; nothing remains that can harm me anymore.")

Thus must we toil in other men's extremes, That know not how to remedy our own.