John Ford (dramatist)

John Ford (1586 – c. 1640) was one of the last English playwrights in the great Jacobean school that produced Marlowe, William Shakespeare and Jonson. Quotes Her words are trusty heralds to her mind. Love's Sacrifice, Act I, sc. i. (1632?) Oh, happy kings,Whose thrones are raised in their subjects' hearts. Perkin Warbeck, Act III, sc. i. (c. 1629-34) Sister, look ye,How, by a new creation of my tailor'sI've shook off old mortality. The Fancies, Chaste and Noble Act I, sc. iii. (1635-6) A bachelorMay thrive by observation, on a little.A single life's no burden: but to drawIn yokes is chargeable, and will requireA double maintenance. The Fancies, Chaste and Noble Act I, sc. iii. The Lover's Melancholy (1628) FlatteryIs monstrous in a true friend. Act I, sc. i. Physicians are the cobblers, rather the botchers, of men's bodies; as the one patches our tattered clothes, so the other solders our diseased flesh. Act I, sc. ii. Tell us, pray, what devilThis melancholy is, which can transformMen into monsters. Act III, sc. i. MelancholyIs not, as you conceive, indispositionOf body, but the mind's disease. Act III, sc. i. Philosophers dwell in the moon. Act III, sc. iii. Love is the tyrant of the heart; it darkensReason, confounds discretion; deaf to CounselIt runs a headlong course to desperate madness. Act III, sc. iii. Fly hence, shadows, that do keep,Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep. Act V, sc. i. The Broken Heart (c. 1625-33) Tempt not the stars, young man, thou canst not playWith the severity of fate. Act I, sc. iii. I am, gay creature,With pardon of your deities, a mushroomOn whom the dew of heaven drops now and then. Act I, sc. iii. Green indiscretion, flattery of greatness,Rawness of judgement, wilfulness in folly,Thoughts vagrant as the wind, and as uncertain. Act II, sc. ii. The joys of marriage are the heaven on earth,Life's paradise, great princess, the soul's quiet,Sinews of concord, earthly immortality,Eternity of pleasures; no restorativesLike to a constant woman! Act II, sc. ii. GloriesOf human greatness are but pleasing dreams,And shadows soon decaying. Act III, sc. v. Revenge proves its own executioner. Act IV, sc. i. There's not a hairSticks on my head but, like a leaden plummet,It sinks me to the grave: I must creep thither;The journey is not long. Act IV, sc. ii. Truth is child of time. Act IV, sc. iii. Love is dead; let lovers' eyesLocked in endless dreamsTh' extreme of all extremesOpe no more, for now Love dies. Act IV, sc. iii. He hath shook hands with time. Act V, sc. ii. 'Tis Pity She's a Whore (1629-33?) Nice philosophyMay tolerate unlikely arguments,But heaven admits no jest. Act I, sc. i. I have spentMany a silent night in sighs and groans,Ran over all my thoughts, despised my fate,Reasoned against the reasons of my love,Done all that smoothed-cheek Virtue could advise,But found all bootless: 'tis my destinyThat you must either love, or I must die. Act I, sc. iii. Brother, even by my mother's dust, I charge you,Do not betray me to your mirth or hate. Act I, sc. iii. Delay in vengeance gives a heavier blow. Act III, sc. iii. There is a place,List, daughter! in a black and hollow vault,Where day is never seen; there shines no sun,But flaming horror of consuming fires;A lightless sulphur, choked with smoky fogsOf an infected darkness; in this placeDwell many thousand thousand sundry sortsOf never-dying deaths. Act III, sc. v. Busy opinion is an idle fool. Act V, sc. iii. Why, I hold fateClasped in my fist, and could command the courseOf time's eternal motion, hadst thou beenOne thought more steady than an ebbing sea. Act V, sc. v. The Lady's Trial (1638) He is a noble gentleman; withalHappy in his endeavours: the general voiceSounds him for courtesy, behaviour, language,And every fair demeanour, an example:Titles of honour add not to his worth;Who is himself an honour to his title. Act I, sc. iii. Let them fear bondage who are slaves to fear;The sweetest freedom is an honest heart. Act I, sc. iii. We can drink till all look blue. Act IV, sc. ii. Criticism Ford was of the first order of poets. He sought for sublimity, not by parcels in metaphors or visible images, but directly where she has her full residence in the heart of man; in the actions and sufferings of the greatest minds. Charles Lamb Specimens of English Dramatic Poets ([1808] 1854) p. 228. Ford is rather a sculptor of character than a painter. Algernon Charles Swinburne Essays and Studies ([1875] 1888) p. 278. External links Category:Playwrights from England Category:1586 births Category:17th century deaths