Specimens of English Dramatic Poets who Lived about the Time of Shakespeare: Including the Extracts from the Garrick Plays, Volume 2J. M. Dent, 1893 - English drama |
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Page 5
... cause I've given my king . Vanquished Moor's address to the Sun. Descend thy sphere , thou burning Deity . Haste from our shame , go blushing to thy bed ; Thy sons * we are , thou everlasting Ball , Yet never shamed these our impressive ...
... cause I've given my king . Vanquished Moor's address to the Sun. Descend thy sphere , thou burning Deity . Haste from our shame , go blushing to thy bed ; Thy sons * we are , thou everlasting Ball , Yet never shamed these our impressive ...
Page 8
... cause it kept Still in mine eye the memory of my loss : Yet I grieved the less ; and did joy withal , That I had found a grief . And this is all The sorrow I can boast of . Doc . This is but small . Wid . Nay , sure , I am of this ...
... cause it kept Still in mine eye the memory of my loss : Yet I grieved the less ; and did joy withal , That I had found a grief . And this is all The sorrow I can boast of . Doc . This is but small . Wid . Nay , sure , I am of this ...
Page 13
... cause , be it never so just , it is not regarded ; and , to have his wrongs righted , he must appeal to that other life . All men crush him ; no man favoreth him ; there is no man that will relieve his wants ; no man that will comfort ...
... cause , be it never so just , it is not regarded ; and , to have his wrongs righted , he must appeal to that other life . All men crush him ; no man favoreth him ; there is no man that will relieve his wants ; no man that will comfort ...
Page 14
... Cause I am poor , deform'd , and ignorant , And like a bow buckled and bent together By some more strong in mischiefs than myself ; Must I for that be made a common sink For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run ...
... Cause I am poor , deform'd , and ignorant , And like a bow buckled and bent together By some more strong in mischiefs than myself ; Must I for that be made a common sink For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run ...
Page 17
... causes her Husband CAMILLO to be murdered . Suspicion * The Author's Dedication to this Play is so modest , yet so conscious of self - merit withal , he speaks so frankly of the deservings of others , and by implication insinuates his ...
... causes her Husband CAMILLO to be murdered . Suspicion * The Author's Dedication to this Play is so modest , yet so conscious of self - merit withal , he speaks so frankly of the deservings of others , and by implication insinuates his ...
Common terms and phrases
A. H. Bullen Antigone Appius blessing blood Bonduca brother Carracus chaste Clor COMEDY Court curse dare daughter dead dear death dost doth Duch Duke e'er earth eyes fair father fear FRANCIS BEAUMONT give gods grief happy hath hear heart heaven HENRY GLAPTHORN honour Jacin John JOHN FLETCHER King lady leave live look lord Madam maid Maid Marian Matilda methinks misery mistress Moth mother NATHANIEL FIELD nature ne'er Nennius never night noble old eds Ordel passion Peneus PHILIP MASSINGER pity play poison poor pray Queen ROBERT DAVENPORT servant shew sister sleep sorrow soul speak sweet tears tell thee Thier thine THOMAS NABBS thou art thou hast thoughts THYESTES TRAGEDY twas unto VIOLANTA Virginius virtue weep Whilst WILLIAM ROWLEY woman
Popular passages
Page 69 - So high in thoughts as I : You left a kiss Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep From you for ever. I did hear you talk Far above singing ! After you were gone, I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd What stirr'd it so : Alas ! I found it love ; Yet far from lust ; for could I but have lived In presence of you, I had had my end.
Page 35 - Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping, Their life a general mist of error, Their death a hideous storm of terror. Strew your hair with powders sweet, Don clean linen, bathe your feet, And (the foul fiend more to check) A crucifix let bless your neck : 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day ; End your groan, and come away.
Page 24 - Call for the robin-red-breast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm, But keep the wolf far thence that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again.
Page 187 - Calantha, with a holy violence against her nature, keeps closely covered, till the last duties of a wife and a queen are fulfilled. Stories of martyrdom are but of chains and the stake ; a little bodily suffering. These torments " On the purest spirits prey, As on entrails, joints, and limbs, With answerable pains, but more intense.
Page 35 - Not a whit: What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds ? or to be smothered With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls ? I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits...
Page 186 - I but deceived your eyes with antic gesture, When one news straight came huddling on another Of death ! and death ! and death ! still I danced forward ; But it struck home, and here, and in an instant. Be such mere women, who with shrieks and outcries Can vow a present end to all their sorrows, Yet live to court new pleasures, and outlive them : They are the silent griefs which cut the heart-strings; Let me die smiling.
Page 87 - For to that holy wood is consecrate 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 : By this fair fount hath many a shepherd sworn, And given away his freedom, many a troth Been plight, which neither envy nor old time Could ever break, with many a chaste kiss given, In hope of coming happiness...
Page 67 - Tis less than to be born ; a lasting sleep, A quiet resting from all jealousy ; A thing we all pursue ; I know besides It is but giving over of a game That must be lost.
Page 36 - Constantly. Bos. Do you not weep ? Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out: The element of water moistens the earth, But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens. Ferd. Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
Page 88 - I sit by and sing, Or gather rushes to make many a ring For thy long fingers...