Sardanapalus

"Εὖ εἰδώς, ὅτι θνητὸς ἔφυς, σὸν θυμὸν ἄεξε, τερπόμενος θαλίήσι. θανόντι τοι οὔ τις ὄνησις. καὶ γὰρ ἐγὼ σποδός εἰμι, Πίνου μεγάλης βασιλεύσας. ταῦτ ἔχω, ὅσσ’ ἔφαγον καὶ ἐφύβρισα καὶ μἐτ ἔρωτος τέρπν’ ἔπαθον, τὰ δὲ πολλὰ καὶ ὀλβια κεῖνα λέλειπται."

"Cf. Ede, bibe, lude, post mortem nulla voluptas."

"All farewells should be sudden."

"The dust we tread upon was once alive."

"I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse,—borne away with every breath!"

"Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip."

"By all that's good and glorious."

"Which makes life itself a lie, Flattering dust with eternity."

"Till now, no drop from an Assyrian vein Hath flow'd for me, nor hath the smallest coin Of Nineveh's vast treasures e'er been lavish'd On objects which could cost her sons a tear: If then they hate me, 'tis because I hate not: If they rebel, 'tis because I oppress not."

"Why, what other Interpretation should it bear? it is The very policy of orient monarchs – Pardon and poison – favours and a sword – A distant voyage, and an eternal sleep […] How many satraps have I seen set out In his sire's day for mighty vice-royalties, Whose tombs are on their path! I know not how, But they all sicken'd by the way, it was So long and heavy."

"I thought to have made mine inoffensive rule An era of sweet peace 'midst bloody annals, A green spot amidst desert centuries, On which the future would turn back and smile, And cultivate, or sigh when it could not Recall Sardanapalus' golden reign. I thought to have made my realm a paradise, And every moon an epoch of new pleasures. I took the rabble's shouts for love – the breath Of friends for truth – the lips of woman for My only guerdon – so they are, my Myrrha: [He kisses her] Kiss me. Now let them take my realm and life! They shall have both, but never thee!"

"Th’ Assyrian king, in peace, with foul desire And filthy lusts that stained his regal heart; In war, that should set princely hearts on fire, Did yield, vanquished for want of martial art. The dint of swords from kisses seemèd strange, And harder than his lady’s side his targe; From glutton feasts to soldier’s fare a change; His helmet far above a garland’s charge: Who scarce the name of manhood did retain, Drenchèd in sloth and womanish delight, Feeble of spirit, impatient of pain, When he had lost his honour and his right, (Proud, time of wealth; in storms, appalled with dread,) Murthered himself, to show some manful deed."

"Th’ Assyrians’ king, in peace with foul desire And filthy lust that stained his regal heart, In war, that should set princely hearts afire, Vanquished did yield for want of martial art. The dent of swords from kisses seemed strange, And harder than his lady’s side his targe; From glutton feasts to soldiers’ fare a change His helmet far above a garland’s charge. Who scarce the name of manhood did retain Drenched in sloth and womanish delight, Feeble of sprete, unpatient of pain, When he had lost his honour and his right (Proud time of wealth, in storms appalled with dread) Murdered himself to show some manful deed."