Thomas Middleton Quotes

Let me feel how thy pulses beat.

The slowest kiss makes too much haste.

Has not heaven an ear? Is all the lightning wasted?

FRANCISCUS: How sweetly she looks! Oh, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy.

I much applaud thy judgement; thou art well-read in a fellow. And 'tis the deepest art to study man.

Her fingers touched me! She smells all amber.

Castiza: "False! I defy you both! I have endured you with an ear of fire; Your tongues have struck hot irons on my face! Mother, come from that poisonous woman there." Gratiana: "Where?" Castiza: "Do you not see her? She's too inward then.

Tis time to die when we are ourselves our foes.

Good, happy, swift; there's gunpowder i'th' court, Wildfire at midnight in this heedless fury.

Oh,Wert not gold and women, there would be no damnation

It may take a decade or two before the extent of Shakespeare's collaboration passes from the graduate seminar to the undergraduate lecture, and finally to popular biography, by which time it will be one of those things about Shakespeare that we thought we knew all along. Right now, though, for those who teach the plays and write about his life, it hasn't been easy abandoning old habits of mind. I know that I am not alone in struggling to come to terms with how profoundly it alters one's sense of how Shakespeare wrote, especially toward the end of his career when he coauthored half of his last ten plays. For intermixed with five that he wrote alone, Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, The Winter's Tale, Cymbeline, and The Tempest, are Timon of Athens (written with Thomas Middleton), Pericles (written with George Wilkins), and Henry the Eighth, the lost Cardenio, and The Two Noble Kinsmen (all written with John Fletcher).

Tis time to die, when 'tis a shame to live.

Money! Ho, ho! 'T'as been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff. I've e'en forgot what colour silver's of.

As fast as they peep up let's cut 'em down.

How sweetly she looks! O, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy. - Anacreon, drink to my mistress' health, I'll pledge it. Stay, stay, there's a spider in the cup! No, 'tis but a grape-stone; swallow it, fear nothing, poet. So, so; lift higher.

Lussurioso: "Welcome, be not far off, we must be better acquainted. Push, be bold with us, thy hand!" Vindice: "With all my heart, i'faith. How dost, sweet musk-cat? When shall we lie together?" Lussurioso: (aside) "Wondrous knave! Gather him into boldness? 'Sfoot, the slave's Already as familiar as an ague, And shakes me at his pleasure! -- Friend, I can Forget myself in private, but elsewhere, I pray do you remember be." Vindice: "Oh, very well, sir. I conster myself saucy." Lussurioso: "What hast been? What profession?" Vindice: "A bone-setter." Lussurioso: "A bone-setter!" Vindice: "A bawd, my lord, one that sets bones together." Lussurioso: (aside) "Notable bluntness!

I know she hates me, yet cannot choose but love her: No matter, if but to vex her, I'll haunt her still; Though I get nothing else, I'll have my will.

She that in life and love refuses me, In death and shame my partner she shall be.

Ha! What news here? Is the day out a' th' socket That it is noon at midnight? The court up?

If he were not as he is, he would be better than himself.

Never were finer snares for womens' honesties Than are devis'd in these days ; no spider's web's Made of a daintier thread, than are now practis'd To catch love's flesh-fly by the silver wing

Our eyes are sentinels unto our judgements, And should give certain judgement what they see; But they are rash sometimes, and tell us wonders Of common things, which when our judgments find, They can then check the eyes, and call them blind.

God doesn't give us tests that we can't pass, and he must have figured I could handle whatever was going to happen.

responds to and develops recent currents of critical and scholarly thought which see Shakespeare not as a lone eminence but as a fully paid-up member of the theatrical community of his time, a working playwright with professional obligations to the theatre personnel without whose collaboration his art would have been ineffectual, and one who, like most other playwrights of the age, actively collaborated with other writers, not necessarily always as a senior partner.

Our English tongue, which hath been the most harsh, uneven and broken language of the world, part Dutch, part Irish, Saxon, Scotch, Welsh, and indeed a gallimaufry of many, but perfect in none, is now, by this secondary means of playing, continually refined, every writer striving in himself to add a new flourish unto it; so that in process, from the most rude and unpolished tongue, it is grown to a most perfect and composed language

He that climbs highest had the greatest fall.

Yonder's another vessel, I'll board her - if she be lawful prize, down goes her top-sail.

Being a Series of Tales Founded upon the Folk-lore of Longdendale Valley and its Neighbourhood.

I that am of your blood was taken from you For your better health; look no more upon 't, But cast it to the ground regardlessly, Let the common sewer take it from distinction: Beneath the stars, upon yon meteor Ever hung my fate, 'mongst things corruptible; I ne'er could pluck it from him; my loathing Was prophet to the rest, but ne'er believed.

The tragedy we know today came to us patched together with lines lifted from the works of another playwright, Thomas Middleton. Since Macbeth was not considered one of Shakespeare’s last plays, it’s difficult to explain why the tragedy had to be cobbled together in that manner. Was it possible that Macbeth, due to its bloodthirsty portrayal of Scottish royalty, had been censored by James I? Was Macbeth always the shortest play in the canon, or was its brevity the result of censorship? Could its author have suffered dire consequences as a result of a king’s displeasure, and was that the reason “the Scottish play” had always been associated with bad luck?

Faith, if the truth were known, I was begot After some gluttonous dinner; some stirring dish Was my first father. When deep healths went round, And ladies' cheeks were painted red with wine, Their tongues as short and nimble as their heels, Uttering words sweet and thick, and when they rose Were marrily disposed to fall again: Oh, damnation met The sin of feasts, drunken adultery! I feel it swell me; my revenge is just: I was begot in impudent wine and lust (...) As for my brother, the duke's only son, Whose birth is more beholding to report Than mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sown, I'll loose my days upon him, hate all I.

He would sell his soul if he knew what merchant would lay out money upon’t; and some of ‘em have need of one.

My lands showed like a full moon about me, but now the moon's i'the last quarter, waning, waning; and I am to think that moon was mine. Mine and my father's and my forefathers': generations, generations! Down goes the house of us, down, down it sinks. Now is the name a beggar, begs in me; that name, which hundreds of years has made this shire famous, in me and my posterity runs out.

I am so well acquainted with despair, I know not how to hope… Thomas Dekker and Thomas Middleton, The Honest Whore

He has more tongues in his head than some have teeth.

I am so well acquainted with despair, I know not how to hope… Thomas Dekker and Thomas Middleton, The Honest Whore