Why, do nothing; be like a gentleman, be idle; the curse of man is labour. Wipe thy bum with testones, and make ducks and drakes with shillings.

George Chapman
16th/17th-century English dramatist, poet, and translator
113 pieces
- Lived
- 1559–1634
- Born
- Hitchin
- Died
- London
- Nationality
- United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
- Known as
- writer, poet, playwright, translator
- Era
- Renaissance
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Works (113)
Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee. Light gains make heavy purses. 'Tis good to be merry and wise.
Marriage is ever made by destiny.
Young men think old men are fools; but old men know young men are fools.
Fortune, the great commandress of the world, Hath divers ways to advance her followers: To some she gives honour without deserving, To other some, deserving without honour; Some wit, some wealth,—and some, wit without wealth; Some wealth …
How blinde is pride! what eagles we are still In matters that belong to other men, What beetles in our own!
: What flowers are these? : The pansy this. : Oh, that's for lover's thoughts.
Extremes, though contrary, have the like effects; Extreme heat mortifies like extreme cold: Extreme love breeds satiety as well As extreme hatred; and too violent rigour Tempts chastity as much as too much licence.
I tell thee Love is Nature's second sun, Causing a spring of virtues where he shines.
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.
Love calls to war; Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms.
News as wholesome as the morning air.
Love's special lesson is to please the eye.
Women are most won, when men merit least.
Ill may a sad mind forge a merry face, Nor hath constrainèd laughter any grace.
Sin is ashamed of sin.
The use of time is fate.
Love is a golden bubble, full of dreams, That waking breaks, and fills us with extremes.
He that shuns trifles must shun the world.
Yet hath the morning sprinkled through the clouds But half her tincture; and the sail of night Sticks still upon the bosom of the air.
Black is a pearl in a woman's eye.
An ill weed grows apace.
None ever loved but at first sight they loved.
Berenice's ever-burning hair