The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Volume 3

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G. Bell and Sons & A.H. Bullen, 1908 - English drama

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Page 18 - A tragi-comedy is not so called in respect of mirth and killing, but in respect it wants deaths, which is enough to make it no tragedy, yet brings some near to it, which is enough to make it no comedy...
Page 36 - I sit by and sing, Or gather rushes to make many a ring For thy long fingers ; tell thee tales of love, How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes She took eternal fire that never dies ; How she...
Page 43 - Whilst the other eye doth sleep; So you shall good shepherds prove, And for ever hold the love Of our great god. Sweetest slumbers, And soft silence, fall in numbers On your eyelids ! So, farewell: Thus I end my evening's knell \Exeunt.
Page 43 - Oh, you sons of earth, You only brood, unto whose happy birth Virtue was given, holding more of nature Than man, her first-born and most perfect creature, Let me adore you ! you, that only can Help or kill nature, drawing out that span Of life and breath even to the end of time ; You, that these hands did crop long before prime 10 Of day, give me your names, and, next, your hidden power.
Page 47 - And offered sacrilegious foul disgrace To the sweet rest of these interred bones; For fear of whose ascending, fly at once, Thou and thy idle passions, that the sight Of death and speedy vengeance may not fright Thy very soul with horror. The. Let me not, Thou all perfection, merit such a blot For my true zealous faith. Clo. Dar'st thou abide To see this holy earth at once divide, And give her body...
Page 87 - SEE the day begins to break, And the light shoots like a streak Of subtle fire ; the wind blows cold While the morning doth unfold ; Now the birds begin to rouse, And the squirrel from the boughs Leaps, to get him nuts and fruit, The early lark, that erst was mute, Carols to the rising day Many a note and many a lay.
Page 63 - To walk this grove about, whilst he, In a corner of the wood, Where never mortal foot hath stood, Keeps dancing, music, and a feast, To entertain a lovely guest : Where he gives her many a rose, Sweeter than the breath that blows The leaves ; grapes, berries of the best ; I never saw so great a feast. But, to my charge : Here must I stay, To see what mortals lose their way, And by a false fire seeming bright, Train them in and leave them right, Then must I watch if any be Forcing of a chastity...
Page 25 - Here be grapes, whose lusty blood Is the learned poet's good. Sweeter yet did never crown The head of Bacchus ; nuts more brown Than the squirrel's teeth that crack them...
Page 43 - Every one his loved flock ; And let your dogs lie loose without, Lest the wolf come as a scout From the mountain, and, ere day, Bear a lamb or kid away; Or the crafty thievish fox Break upon your simple flocks. To secure yourselves from these, Be not too secure in ease; Let one eye his watches keep...
Page 24 - Thicken'd with misty film of dulling rheum : These I can cure, such secret virtue lies In herbs applied by a virgin's hand.

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