Thomas Middleton

Thomas
Middleton
1570
1627

English Dramatist, Playwright and Poet

Author Quotes

Alsemero: Peace, quench thy zeal; 'tis dangerous to thy bosom. Jasperino: Then truth is full of peril. Alsemero: Such truths are.

For he that sows in craft does reap in jealousy.

How near am I to happiness that earth exceeds not? not another like it. The treasures of the deep are not so precious, as are the conceal'd comforts of a man lock'd up in woman's love. I scent the air of blessings, when I come but near the house; what a delicious breath marriage sends forth. The violet-bed's not sweeter. Honest wedlock is like a banqueting-house built in a golden, on which the spring's chaste flowers take delight to cast their modest odors.

Money! Ho, ho! 'T'as been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff. I've e'en forgot what colour silver's of.

The worst comes to the worst.

Who loves law, dies either mad or poor.

And dearest enemy.

For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.

How sweetly she looks! O, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy. - Anacreon, drink to my mistress' health, I'll pledge it. Stay, stay, there's a spider in the cup! No, 'tis but a grape-stone; swallow it, fear nothing, poet. So, so; lift higher.

'Mongst all your virtues I see not charity written, which some call the first born of religion; and I wonder, I cannot see it in yours. Believe it, sir, there is no virtue can be sooner miss'd or later welcom'd; it begins the rest, and sets them all in order.

Then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

Who reigns within himself, and rules Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king.

And with necessity, the tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds.

For the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.

I have been a soldier, till the helm hath worn those aged temples bare.

My nearest and dearest enemy.

There is no hate lost between us.

With diadem and sceptre high advanced, The lower still I fall; only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds.

Anything for a quiet life.

Franciscus: How sweetly she looks! Oh, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy.

I much applaud thy judgment; thou art well-read in a fellow. And 'tis the deepest art to study man.

Of which all old men sicken,—avarice.

There is no virtue can be sooner missed or later welcomed; it begins the rest, and sets them all in order.

Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay.

As fast as they peep up let's cut 'em down.

Author Picture
First Name
Thomas
Last Name
Middleton
Birth Date
1570
Death Date
1627
Bio

English Dramatist, Playwright and Poet