Philip Massinger Quotes
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Virtue, if not in action, is a vice,And, when we move not forward, we go backward.
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Out, you impostors!Quack-salving, cheating mountebanks! Your skillIs to make sound men sick, and sick men kill.
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Malice scorned, puts out itself; but argued, give a kind of credit to a false accusation.
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I had not to this time subsisted, but that I was supported by your frequent courtesies and favours.
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Patience, the beggar's virtue, shall find no harbor here.
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True dignity is never gained by place, and never lost when honors are withdrawn.
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What a bridgeOf glass I walk upon, over a riverOf certain ruin! Mine own weighty fearsCracking what should support me:-And those helps,Which confidence yields to others, are from meRavish'd by doubts, and wilful jealousy.
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But in our Sanazarro 'tis not so,He being pure and tried gold; and any stampOf grace, to make him current to the world,The duke is pleased to give him, will add honourTo the great bestower; for he, though allow'dCompanion to his master, still preservesHis majesty in full lustre.
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Be wise; soar not too high to fall; but stoop to rise.
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He is not valiant that dares die, but he that boldly bears calamity.
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He that would govern others, first should be Master of himself.
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The good needs fear no law,It is his safety and the bad man's awe.
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The oath in any way or form you please,I stand resolv'd to take it.
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To doubt is worse than to have lost; and to despair is but to antedate those miseries that must fall on us.
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Many good purposes lie in the churchyard.
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What a seaOf melting ice I walk on!
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Grim death.
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Quiet night that bringsRest 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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Ambition, in a private man is a vice, is in a prince the virtue.
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This many-headed monster,The giddy multitude.
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Like a rough orator, that brings more truthThan rhetoric, to make good his accusation.
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Let us love temperately, things violent last not.
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Cause me no causes.
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Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,And takes away the use of it; and my sword,Glued to my scabbard with wronged orphans' tears,Will not be drawn.