Thomas Lodge

Thomas Lodge (c. 1558 – September 1625) was an English dramatist and writer of the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods. Quotes thumb|Least he longs that little seeth. The earth, late choked with showers,Is how arrayed in green;Her bosom springs with flowers,The air dissolves her teen. Scilla's Metamorphosis (1589), madrigal, l. 1 Pluck the fruit and taste the pleasure,Youthful lordings, of delight;Whilst occasion gives you seizure,Feed your fancies and your sight:After death, when you are gone,Joy and pleasure is there none. Robert the Devil (1591), p. 42 As cool as a clock. Euphues' Shadow (1592) Buy cheap, sell dear. A Fig for Momus (1595), epis. iv Yea, when the Grecian Calends come (quoth I). A Fig for Momus (1595), epis. vii Words are like to arrows, which are easily shot out, but hardly got in again. The Devil Conjured (1596), p. 83 A good man is never less alone than when alone, as Themistocles said. The Devil Conjured (1596) Least he longs that little seeth. Damon's Pastoral, l. 36; in England's Helicon (1600) The covetous man is good to no man, and worst to himself. The Works of Lucius Annaeus Seneca (1614), p. 443 Tr. Epistulae morales ad Lucilium, epis. cviii A Defence of Poetry (1579) Who hath not heard that the lion is known by his claws? p. 3 Your day owl...hath brought such a lot of wondering birds about your ears, as...will chatter you out of your ivy bush. p. 8 Will you have all for your own tooth? p. 8 As the cat watcheth the play of the mouse. p. 44 Rosalynde: Euphues' Golden Legacy (1590) thumb|Love in my bosom like a beeDoth suck his sweet. thumb|Heigh, ho, fair Rosalynde! thumb|Love lurks as soon about a sheepcote as a palace. Love in my bosom like a beeDoth suck his sweet. Rosalynde's Madrigal, l. 1 Like to the clear in highest sphereWhere all imperial glory shines,Of selfsame colour is her hair,Whether unfolded or in twines:Heigh, ho, fair Rosalynde! Rosalynde's Description, l. 1 [variant: 'Rosaline' for 'Rosalynde'] Her neck is like a stately tower,Where Love himself imprison'd lies. Rosalynde's Description, l. 21 [variant: 'like to' for 'is like'] With orient pearl, with ruby red,With marble white, with sapphire blue,Her body every way is fed,Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view. Rosalynde's Description, l. 31 First time shall stay his stayless race,And Winter bless his brows with corn,And snow bemoisten July’s face,And winter spring, and summer mourn,Before my pen by help of fameCease to recite thy sacred name. Montanus' Vow, l. 19 I have a longing tooth...that makes me cry. Corydon's Song, ll. 19, 20 Turn I my looks unto the skies,Love with his arrows wounds mine eyes;If so I gaze upon the ground,Love then in every flower is found.Search I the shade to fly my pain,He meets me in the shade again;Wend I to walk in secret grove,Even there I meet with sacred Love.If so I bain me in the spring,Even on the brink I hear him sing:If so I meditate alone,He will be partner of my moan.If so I mourn, he weeps with me,And where I am there will he be. Rosader's Second Sonetto, l. 1 There is no sting to the worm of conscience. Saladyne's Complaint Aliena...spied where the hare was by the hounds, and could see day at a little hole. Rosalynde Passionate Alone Love lurks as soon about a sheepcote as a palace. Aliena's Meditation Your nose bewrays what porridge you love. Saladyne's Discourse to Rosader Unknown Well, sir, if your market may be made no where else, home again, for your mart is at the fairest. [Phoebe] Aliena...said the wedding was not worth a pin, unless there were some cheer. [Aliena] Phyllis (1593) Love guards the roses of thy lipsAnd flies about them like a bee. Sonnet xiii, l. 1 Nothing liked, where nothing wanted. Eclogue ii, l. 31 A Looking Glass for London (1594) Written with Robert Greene thumb|Devils are not so black as they be painted. thumb|The smallest hair hath his shadow. Not worth a horse of thine own this seven year. Adam, act I, sc. ii, l. 86 The smith and the devil hath a dry tooth in his head. Adam, act IV, sc. iv, l. 64 I was in a brown study. Adam, act V, sc. i, l. 160 A Margarite of America (1596) Wherethrough justice is made a nose of wax warmed. p. 40 Devils are not so black as they be painted, ... nor women so wayward as they seem. p. 57 [variant: 'are' for 'be'] My shirt is near me, but my skin is nearest. p. 103 Wit's Misery (1596) He will not eat his dinner before he hath looked in his almanack, nor pare his nails while Monday, to be fortunate in his love. p. 12 Giving me the fico with his thumb in his mouth. p. 23 The smallest hair hath his shadow. p. 24 External links Category:Novelists from England Category:Playwrights from England Category:Poets from England Category:1550s births Category:1625 deaths Category:People from London