The Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker: Now First Collected with Illustrative Notes and a Memoir of the Author, Volume 1

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J. Pearson, 1873
 

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Page 44 - Welcome home, Master Shrieve. I pray God continue you in health and wealth. Eyre See here, my Maggy, a chain, a gold chain for Simon Eyre. I shall make thee a lady.
Page 39 - Dodger, what's the news you bring? DODGER. The Earl of Lincoln by me greets your lordship, And earnestly requests you, if you can, Inform him where his nephew Lacy keeps.
Page 31 - EYRE. Let it pass, let it vanish away ; peace ! Am I not Simon Eyre? Are not these my brave men, brave shoemakers, all gentlemen of the gentle craft? Prince am I none, yet am I nobly...
Page 75 - I pray thee, good lord mayor, be even as merry As if thou wert among thy shoemakers; It does me good to see thee in this humour. Eyre. Say'st thou me so, my sweet Dioclesian? Then, humph!
Page xxviii - tough senior,' this impracticable old gentleman softens into a little child; this choke-pear melts in the mouth like marmalade. In spite of his resolute professions of misanthropy, he watches over his daughter with kindly solicitude; plays the careful housewife; broods over her lifeless hopes; nurses the decay of her husband's fortune, as he had supported her tottering infancy; saves the high-flying Matheo from the gallows more...
Page 48 - And for she thinks me wanton, she denies To cheer my cold heart with her sunny eyes. How prettily she works, oh pretty hand!
Page 56 - Thou lie with a woman to build nothing but Cripple-gates ! Well, God sends fools fortune, and it may be, he may light upon his matrimony by such a device ; for wedding and hanging goes by destiny. [Exit.
Page 75 - I'll shave it off, and stuff tennis-balls with it, to please my bully king. King. But all this while I do not know your age. Eyre. My liege, I am six and fifty year old, yet I can cry humph ! with a sound heart for the honour of Saint Hugh.
Page 259 - Poet does play at bo-peepes with your Grace, and cryes all-hidde as boyes doe. Officers. Stand by, roome there, backe, roome for the Poet. Sir Va.
Page 22 - tis time enough, 'tis early enough for any woman to be seen abroad. I marvel how many wives in Tower Street are up so soon. Gods me, 'tis not noon, — here's a yawling !

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