George Chapman (1559 – 1634)
English dramatist, translator and poet.
He is at no end of his actions blest
Whose ends will make him greatest, and not best.
Exceeding fair she was not; and yet fair
In that she never studied to be fairer
Than Nature made her; beauty cost her nothing,
Her virtues were so rare.
Cornelia. What flowers are these?
Gazetta. The pansy this.
Cor. Oh, that 's for lovers' thoughts.
Enough 's as good as a feast.
Poetry, unlike oratory, should not aim at clarity... but be dense with meaning, 'something to be chewed and digested'
Who to himself is law no law doth need,
Offends no law, and is a king indeed.
Musicke, and moode, she loues, but loue she hates,
(As curious Ladies do, their publique cates)
This traine, with meteors, comets, lightenings,
The dreadfull presence of our Empresse sings:
Which grant for euer (ô eternall Night)
Till vertue flourish in the light of light.
Make ducks and drakes with shillings.
Virtue is not malicious; wrong done her
Is righted even when men grant they err.
None ever loved but at first sight they loved.
Black is a pearl in a woman's eye.
So our lives
In acts exemplary, not only win
Ourselves good names, but doth to others give
Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live.
Danger (the spur of all great minds) is ever
The curb to your tame spirits.
Only a few industrious Scots perhaps, who indeed are dispersed over the face of the whole earth. But as for them, there are no greater friends to Englishmen and England, when they are out on 't, in the world, than they are. And for my own part, I would a hundred thousand of them were there [Virginia]; for we are all one countrymen now, ye know, and we should find ten times more comfort of them there than we do here.
Let no man value at a little price
A virtuous woman's counsel; her wing'd spirit
Is feather'd oftentimes with heavenly words.
Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee. Light gains make heavy purses. 'Tis good to be merry and wise.
Promise is most given when the least is said.
This was a sleight well mask'd. O, what is man,
Unless he be a Politician?
'T is immortality to die aspiring,
As if a man were taken quick to heaven.