Christopher Marlowe - Tamburlaine (1590)

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Is it not passing brave to be a king,
And ride in triumph through Persepolis?

Christopher Marlowe
The ripest fruit of all,
That perfect bliss and sole felicity,
The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.

Christopher Marlowe
Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia!
What, can ye draw but twenty miles a day…?

Christopher Marlowe
Tamburlaine, the Scourge of God, must die.

Christopher Marlowe
Virtue solely is the sum of glory,
And fashions men with true nobility.

Christopher Marlowe
Now walk the angels on the walls of heaven,
As sentinels to warn th' immortal souls,
To entertain divine Zenocrate.

Christopher Marlowe
Let Earth and Heaven his timeless death deplore,
For both their worths shall equal him no more.

Christopher Marlowe
With milk-white harts upon an ivory sled
Thou shalt be drawn amidst the frozen pools,
And scale the icy mountains' lofty tops,
Which with thy beauty will be soon resolved.

Christopher Marlowe
A wound is nothing, be it ne'er so deep;
Blood is the god of war's rich livery.

Christopher Marlowe
Then bring those Turkish harlots to my tent
And I'll dispose them as it likes me best.

Christopher Marlowe
Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite.

Christopher Marlowe