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Petitions, not sweetened with gold, are but unsavory and oft refused or, if received, are pocketed, not read.

Philip Massinger

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Philip Massinger
Age: 57 †
Born: 1583
Born: January 1
Died: 1640
Died: January 1
Dramatist
Playwright
Writer
Salisbury
England
Philip Massinger
Bribery
Petitions
Refused
Received
Gold
Read
Sweetened
Unsavory

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Death hath a thousand doors to let out life.
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Nay, droop not, fellows innocence should be bold.
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You may boldly say, you did not plough Or trust the barren and ungrateful sands With the fruitful grain of your religious counsels.
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He that knows no guilt can know no fear.
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Without good company all dainties Lose their true relish, and like painted grapes, Are only seen, not tasted.
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And, to all married men, be this a caution, Which they should duly tender as their life, Neither to doat too much, nor doubt a wife.
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He that doth public good for multitudes, finds few are truly grateful
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Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not To wound the fame of princes, if it find But any blemish in their lives to work on.
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Ambition, in a private man is a vice, is in a prince the virtue.
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Pleasures of worse natures Are gladly entertained, and they that shun us Practice in private sports the stews would blush at.
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Cheerful looks make every dish a feast, and it is that which crowns a welcome.
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What a seaOf melting ice I walk on!
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Quiet night, that brings Best to the labourer, is the outlaw's day, In which he rises early to do wrong, And when his work is ended dares not sleep.
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Virgin me no virgins! I must have you lose that name, or you lose me.
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Be wise soar not too high to fall but stoop to rise.
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My dancing days are past.
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Gold--the picklock that never fails.
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Shall this nectar Run useless, then, to waste? or ... these lips, That open like the morn, breathing perfumes, On such as dare approach them, be untouch'd? They must--nay, 'tis in vain to make resistance-- Be often kissed and tasted.
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If you like not hanging, drown yourself Take some course for your reputation.
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It is true fortitude to stand firm against All shocks of fate, when cowards faint and die In fear to suffer more calamity.
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