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Abig Abigail Achates Anna arms Ascanius Baldock Barabas Bell brother Caly Calymath Cardinal of Lorraine Carthage crown death Dido Dido's doth Duke of Guise Dyce Earl Edward Eneas England Enter Epernoun Exeunt Exit fair farewell father fear France friar friends Gaveston gentle give gold Governor grace grief Guise hand hast hath heart heaven hence Henry honour Iarbas Ilioneus Isabel Itha Ithamore Jew of Malta Kent king king of France King of Navarre Lancaster leave live Lodowick look lord madam majesty Malta Mathias Matrevis Mortimer Mountsorrell murder Navarre ne'er night noble Old ed Old eds Pembroke's Men Pilia Prince Queen revenge SCENE Sergestus ships soldiers speak Spen Spencer stay sweet sword tell thee there's thine thou art thou shalt traitor Troy Turk unto villain Warwick wilt word
Page 194 - Gallop apace, bright Phoebus, through the sky, And dusky night, in rusty iron car, Between you both shorten the time, I pray, That I may see that most desired day When we may meet these traitors in the field.
Page 206 - But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds ; But, when the imperial lion's flesh is gored, He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, And highly scorning that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up into the air.
Page 208 - My head, the latest honour due to it, And jointly both yield up their wished right. Continue ever thou celestial sun; Let never silent night possess this clime: Stand still you watches...
Page 35 - Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, Vex'd and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians.
Page 228 - I see my tragedy written in thy brows. Yet stay a while, forbear thy bloody hand, And let me see the stroke before it comes, That even then when I shall lose my life, My mind may be more steadfast on my God.
Page 75 - Thou hast committed Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead.
Page 227 - Tell Isabel, the queen, I looked not thus, When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, And there unhorsed the Duke of Cleremont.
Page 121 - I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, Musicians, that with touching of a string May draw the pliant king which way I please; Music and poetry is his delight; Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows...
Page 99 - Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.