Quote#Poetry
How many paltry, foolish, painted things
Quote byMichael Drayton · 1563–1631
Commonly attributed — not confirmed in an authoritative edition. Cited on Wikiquote to: Idea's Mirror (1594, '95, 1619), VI, line 1.
English (original)
How many paltry, foolish, painted things, That now in coaches trouble every street, Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings, Ere they be well wrapt in their winding-sheet! Where I to thee eternity shall give, When nothing else remaineth of these days, And queens hereafter shall be glad to live Upon the alms of thy superfluous praise.
— Michael Drayton
More from Michael Drayton
Marlowe, bathed in Thespian springs Had in him those brave translunary things, That the first poets had.
Crave the tuneful nightingale to help you with her lay, The ousel and the throstlecock, chief music of our May.
That shire which we the Heart of England well may call.
To my mild tutor merrily I came (For I was then a proper goodly page Much like a pigmy, scarce ten years of age) Clasping my slender arms about his thigh. O my dear master! cannot you (quoth I) Make me a poet? Do it, if you can,
Ill news hath wings, and with the wind doth go, Comfort’s a cripple and comes ever slow.
For that fine madness still he did retain Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.