Quote

Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

Christopher Marlowe

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Christopher Marlowe
Age: 29 †
Born: 1564
Born: February 23
Died: 1593
Died: May 30
Author
Dramatist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Canterbury
United Kingdom
Kit Marlowe
Hills
Love
Groves
Life
Woods
Grove
Mountain
Yields
Fields
Hiking
Prove
Valleys
Pleasure
Pleasures
Live
Yield
Come

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Things that are not at all, are never lost.
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Confess and be hanged.
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Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, / Conspired against our God with Lucifer, / And are for ever damned with Lucifer.
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We control fifty percent of a relationship. We influence one hundred percent of it.
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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)
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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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Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be.
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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. Faustus is gone.
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Live and die in Aristotle's works.
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Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistopheles!
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Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
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My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, / Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.
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Infinite riches in a little room.
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You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.
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That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
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Love is not ful of pittie (as men say) But deaffe and cruell, where he meanes to pray.
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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.
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What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
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Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.
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Make me immortal with a kiss.
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