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Great goddess, to whose throne in Cynthian fires,
This earthly altar endless fumes expires;
Therefore, in fumes of sighs and fires of grief,
To fearful chances thou send'st bold relief,
Happy, thrice happy type, and nurse of death,
Who, breathless, feeds on nothing but our breath,
In whom must virtue and her issue live,
Or die for ever.

— George Chapman The Shadow of Night (1594)

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More quotes by George Chapman

Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee. Light gains make heavy purses. 'Tis good to be merry and wise.

Eastward Hoe (1605)

Poetry, unlike oratory, should not aim at clarity...but be dense with meaning, 'something to be chewed and digested'.

Ovid's Banquet of Sense (1595)

Who to himself is law no law doth need,
Offends no law, and is a king indeed.

Bussy D'Ambois (1607)

Young men think old men are fools; but old men know young men are fools.

All Fools (1605)

Let no man value at a little price
A virtuous woman's counsel; her wing'd spirit
Is feather'd oftentimes with heavenly words.

The Gentleman Usher (1606)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: George Chapman (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.