Quotes from Christopher Marlowe

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!

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

Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And melting heavens conspired his overthrow.

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

That holy shape becomes a devil best.

Was this the face that launched 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...

Gaveston: I can no longer keepe me from my lord. Edward: What Gaveston, welcome: kis not my hand, Embrace me Gaveston as I do thee: Why shouldst thou kneele, knowest thou not who I am? Thy friend, thy selfe, another Gaveston. Not Hilas was more mourned of Hercules, Then thou hast beene of me since thy exile.

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

Unhappy Persia, that in former age Hast been the seat of mighty Conquerors, That in their prowesse and their policies, Have triumph over Africa.

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

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

Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.

Thou from this land, I from myself am banish'd.

Virtue is the fount whence honor springs.

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

Accursed be he that first invented war.

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.

All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings Are but obey'd in their several provinces, Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds; But his dominion that exceeds in this Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man! A sound magician is a mighty god.

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.

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.

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.

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.

BARABAS: For religion Hides many mischiefs from suspicion.

That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.