CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.

WORKS (ED. DYCE, 1862).

1565-1593.

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
Hero and Leander.

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

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.

By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.

Ibid.

Ibid.

When all the world dissolves,

And every creature shall be purified,

All places shall be hell that are not heaven.

Faustus.

1

Was this the face that launch'd 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!

Ibid.

O, thou art fairer than the evening air,
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

Ibid.

Quoted by Shakespeare in As You Like It.
None ever loved but at first sight they loved.
Chapman, Blind Beggar of Alexandria, ad fin.

Cut is the branch that might have grown full

straight,

And burnèd is Apollo's laurel bough,1

That sometime grew within this learned man.

Infinite riches in a little room.

Faustus.

The Few of Malta. Acti.

Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.

Ibid. Acti.

Now will I show myself to have more of the serpent than the dove; that is, more knave than fool. Ibid. Act ii.

2

Love me little, love me long. Ibid. Act iv.

RICHARD HOOKER.

1553-1600.

Of Law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world: all things in heaven. and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power. Ecclesiastical Polity. Book i.

That to live by one man's will became the cause of all men's misery.

Ibid. Book i.

1 O, withered is the garland of the war,

The soldier's pole is fallen.

Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv. Sc. 13.

2 Love me little, love me long.

Herrick, Song.

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated. To closeness, and the bettering of my mind.

Like one,

Who having, unto truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,

Ibid.

And then take hands:

Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd

The wild waves whist.

Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

'spiriting,' Cambridge ed.

Ibid.

Ibid.

The Tempest continued.]

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance.

Acti. Sc. 2.

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with 't. Ibid.

Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life. Ant. True; save means to live. Act ii. Sc. 1.

A

very ancient and fish-like smell. Act ii. Sc. 2. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

Fer. Here's my hand.

Mir. And mine, with my heart in 't.

Ibid.

Act iii. Sc. I.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and

Are melted into air, into thin air:

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

With foreheads villanous low.

Act iv. Sc. I.

Ibid.

[The Tempest continued.

Deeper than did ever plummet sound,

I'll drown my book.

Act v. Sc. I.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I ;
In a cowslip's bell I lie.

Ibid.

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.

Act i. Sc. I.

I have no other but a woman's reason;
I think him so, because I think him so.

Acti. Sc. 2.

O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day!

Act i. Sc. 3.

And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Act ii. Sc. 4.
He makes sweet music with th' enamel'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. Act ii. Sc. 7.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
Act iii. Sc. I.

Except I be by Sylvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale.
A man I am, cross'd with adversity.

Is she not passing fair?

Ibid.

Act iv. Sc. I.

How use doth breed a habit in a man!

Act iv. Sc. 4.1

Act v. Sc. 4.

1 Act iv. Sc. 2, Dyce.