Beaumont and Fletcher, Volume 10

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American book Company, 1912 - English drama - 414 pages

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Page 215 - 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 215 - Hath deck'd their rising cheeks in red, Such as on your lips is spread. Here be berries for a queen, Some be red, some be green ; These are of that luscious meat, The great god Pan himself doth eat : All these, and what the woods can yield, The hanging mountain or the field, I freely offer, and ere long Will bring you more, more sweet and strong ; Till when humbly leave I take, Lest the great Pan do awake, That sleeping lies in a deep glade, Under a broad beech's shade : I must go, I must run Swifter...
Page 225 - 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 231 - Shepherds all, and maidens fair, Fold your flocks up, for the air 'Gins to thicken, and the sun Already his great course hath run. See the dew-drops how they kiss Every little flower that is ; Hanging on their velvet heads, Like a rope of crystal beads...
Page 47 - To put that wished act in practice as ever yet Was known to woman ; and they have been shown Both. But it was the folly of thy youth To think this beauty, to what hand soe'er It shall be called, shall stoop
Page 158 - He walks still ; and the face you let him wear When he was innocent is still the same, Not blasted! Is this justice? Do you mean To intrap mortality, that you allow Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now Think he is guilty.
Page 205 - My father oft would speak , Your worth and virtue ; and, as I did grow More and more apprehensive, I did thirst To see the man so praised ; but yet all this Was but a maiden longing, to be lost As soon as found ; till sitting in my window, Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, I thought, (but it was you) enter our gates. My blood flew out, and back again as fast, As I had...
Page 200 - Cap. Go thy ways, thou art the king of courtesy ! Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come, And every man trace to his house again, And hang his pewter up ; then to the tavern, And bring your wives in muffs. We will have music ; And the red grape shall make us dance and rise, boys. [Exeunt.
Page 220 - A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes Their stolen children, so to make them free From dying flesh and dull mortality...
Page 211 - 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...

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