The Dramatic Works of Massinger and Ford |
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Page lxviii
... pardon me , if I offend ; thy fire Let equal poets praise , while I admire . If any say that I enough have writ , They are thy foes , and envy at thy wit . Believe not them , nor me ; they know thy lines Deserve applause , but speak ...
... pardon me , if I offend ; thy fire Let equal poets praise , while I admire . If any say that I enough have writ , They are thy foes , and envy at thy wit . Believe not them , nor me ; they know thy lines Deserve applause , but speak ...
Page 5
Philip Massinger. My love , my heart , my all : and pardon me , Pardon , dread princess , that I made some scruple To leave a valley of security , To mount up to the hill of majesty , On which , the nearer Jove , the nearer lightning ...
Philip Massinger. My love , my heart , my all : and pardon me , Pardon , dread princess , that I made some scruple To leave a valley of security , To mount up to the hill of majesty , On which , the nearer Jove , the nearer lightning ...
Page 9
... pardon . [ Going Anton . Good sweetness , you now have it , and shall go : Be but so merciful , before your wounding me With such a mortal weapon as Farewell , To let me murmur to your virgin ear , What I was loth to lay on any tongue ...
... pardon . [ Going Anton . Good sweetness , you now have it , and shall go : Be but so merciful , before your wounding me With such a mortal weapon as Farewell , To let me murmur to your virgin ear , What I was loth to lay on any tongue ...
Page 18
... pardon you ! And if my wrongs from thence pull vengeance down , ( I can no miracles work , ) yet , from my soul , Pray to those Powers I serve , he may recover . Theoph . He stirs - help , raise him up , -my l Sap . Where am I ? Theoph ...
... pardon you ! And if my wrongs from thence pull vengeance down , ( I can no miracles work , ) yet , from my soul , Pray to those Powers I serve , he may recover . Theoph . He stirs - help , raise him up , -my l Sap . Where am I ? Theoph ...
Page 27
... pardon . Theoc . These light words , sir , Do ill become the weight of my sad fortune ; And I much wonder you , that do profess Yourself to be my father's bosom friend , Can raise mirth from his misery . Montr . You mistake me ; I share ...
... pardon . Theoc . These light words , sir , Do ill become the weight of my sad fortune ; And I much wonder you , that do profess Yourself to be my father's bosom friend , Can raise mirth from his misery . Montr . You mistake me ; I share ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ador Anaxarete Asam assurance Beauf Beaumel blood Cæs Cæsar Cham Char Charal Clarin Cleon command confess court Creon dare daughter death deserve duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father favour fear Flac for't fortune Fran Frug Giov give Gnoth Grac grace grant guard hand happy hast hath hear heaven honour hope Iphis justice king kiss lady Lamia leave Leon Leost Leosthenes live look lord Luke lust Macrinus madam Malef Massinger master Mirt mistress ne'er never noble pardon Parth PARTHENIUS Pedro Peri PHILIP MASSINGER pity pleasure poor Pray prince PULCHERIA Re-enter Romont Sanaz SCENE scorn servant serve Sfor shew slave Soph soul speak stand Steph strange sweet sword thank thee Theo Theoph There's thou art thought Timag twas twill Ubald unto virgin virtue Vitel what's wife woman
Popular passages
Page xxv - UNDERNEATH this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, SIDNEY'S sister, PEMBROKE'S mother ; Death ! ere thou hast slain another, Learn'd and fair, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.
Page li - The tears into his eyes were brought. And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. — I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
Page lvi - Amid the groves, under the shadowy hills, The generations are prepared ; the pangs, The internal pangs, are ready ; the dread strife Of poor humanity's afflicted will Struggling in vain with ruthless destiny.
Page 37 - A lightless sulphur, chok'd with smoky fogs Of an infected darkness ; in this place Dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts Of never-dying deaths ; there damned souls Roar without pity ; there are gluttons fed With toads and adders ; there is burning oil Pour'd down the drunkard's throat ; the usurer Is forc'd to sup whole draughts of molten gold...
Page 7 - No, my dear lady ; I could weary stars, And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes, By my late watching, but to wait on you. When at your prayers you kneel before the altar, Methinks I'm singing with some quire in heaven, So blest I hold me in your company...
Page xli - Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for 't: these are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.
Page 191 - When did she flourish so, as when she was The mistress of the ocean, her navies Putting a girdle round about the world ? When the Iberian quaked, her worthies named; And the fair flower-de-luce grew pale, set by The red rose and the white...
Page 292 - Furn. No matter whom : yet, now I think on it, I am angry with my lady. Watch. Heaven forbid, man ! Ord. What cause has she given thee ? Furn. Cause enough, master steward. I was entertained by her to please her palate, And, till she forswore eating, I perform'd it. Now, since our master, noble Allworth, died...
Page 304 - But I'll make it no wonder ; And what is more, unfold my nature to you. We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen, Past hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand To lift them up, but rather set our feet Upon their heads, to press them to the bottom...
Page 328 - Compar'd with thee, are shadows, thou the substance And guardian of felicity. No marvel, My brother made thy place of rest his bosom, Thou being the keeper of his heart, a mistress To be hugg'd ever. In by-corners of This sacred room, silver, in bags heap'd up, Like billets saw'd and ready for the fire, Unworthy to hold fellowship with bright gold, That flow'd about the room, conceal'd itself. There needs no artificial light, the splendour Makes a perpetual day there, night and darkness By that still-burning...