Dramatic Works of John Ford ...

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Page 114 - Urswick, command the dukeling and these fellows To Digby, the Lieutenant of the Tower: With safety let them be convey'd to London. It is our pleasure no uncivil outrage, Taunts or abuse be suffer'd to their persons; They shall meet fairer law than they deserve. Time may restore their wits, whom vain ambition Hath many years distracted. War. Noble thoughts Meet freedom in captivity: the Tower, Our childhood's dreadful nursery!
Page 466 - 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 into...
Page 126 - We'll lead them on courageously ; I read A triumph over tyranny upon Their several foreheads. Faint not in the moment Of victory! our ends, and Warwick's head, Innocent Warwick's head, (for we are prologue But to his tragedy) conclude the wonder Of Henry's fears ;7 and then the glorious race Of fourteen kings, Plantagenets, determines In this last issue male...
Page 521 - Saw. I am dried up With cursing and with madness ; and have yet No blood to moisten these sweet lips of thine. Stand on thy hind-legs up. Kiss me, my Tommy ; And rub away some wrinkles on my brow. By making my old ribs to shrug for joy Of thy fine tricks.
Page 538 - Art thou i' th' sea ? Muster-up all the monsters from the deep, And be the ugliest of them : so that my bulch ' Show but his swarth cheek to me, let earth cleave And break from hell, I care not ! Could I run Like a swift powder-mine beneath the world, Up would I blow it all, to find out thee, Though I lay ruined in it.
Page 9 - STILL to be haunted, still to be pursued, Still to be frighted with false apparitions Of pageant majesty, and new-coin'd greatness, As if we were a mockery king in state, Only ordain'd to lavish sweat and blood, In scorn and laughter, to the ghosts of York, Is all below our...
Page 467 - Saw. Strike, do: and wither'd may that hand and arm Whose blows have lam'd me, drop from the rotten trunk. Abuse me ! beat me! call me hag and witch ! What is the name, where, and by what art learn'd ? What spells, or charms, or invocations, May the thing call'd Familiar be purchased ? I am shunn'd And hated like a sickness: made a scorn To all degrees and sexes.
Page 91 - More loth to part with such a great example Of virtue than all other mere respects. But, sir, my last suit is, you will not force From me what you have given, — this chaste lady, Resolved on all extremes.
Page 378 - Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu ! she cries, And still her woes at midnight rise. Brave prick-song ! Who is't now we hear ? None but the lark so shrill and clear ; Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings.

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