Golden Leaves from the British and American Dramatic Poets |
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Page 1
... hath sorted us this chance ? That even in those where we should comfort find , Where our delight now in our aged days Should rest and be , even there our only grief , And deepest sorrows to abridge our life , Most pining cares and ...
... hath sorted us this chance ? That even in those where we should comfort find , Where our delight now in our aged days Should rest and be , even there our only grief , And deepest sorrows to abridge our life , Most pining cares and ...
Page 9
... hath engrossed all justice in His hands , And there is none but what comes from Him . Pain . O then I see that God must right me for my murdered son . Hier . How , was thy son murdered ? Pain . Ay , sir ; no man did hold a son so dear ...
... hath engrossed all justice in His hands , And there is none but what comes from Him . Pain . O then I see that God must right me for my murdered son . Hier . How , was thy son murdered ? Pain . Ay , sir ; no man did hold a son so dear ...
Page 12
... hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven . [ The clock strikes twelve It strikes , it strikes ! -Now , body , turn to air , Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell . O soul , be changed into small water - drops , And fall into the ocean ...
... hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven . [ The clock strikes twelve It strikes , it strikes ! -Now , body , turn to air , Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell . O soul , be changed into small water - drops , And fall into the ocean ...
Page 13
... hath torn him thus : For ' twixt the hours of twelve and one , methought I heard him shriek , and call aloud for help ; At which same time the house seemed all on fire With dreadful horror of these damnèd fiends . Sec . Sch . Well ...
... hath torn him thus : For ' twixt the hours of twelve and one , methought I heard him shriek , and call aloud for help ; At which same time the house seemed all on fire With dreadful horror of these damnèd fiends . Sec . Sch . Well ...
Page 14
... hath pent and mewed me in a prison : For such outrageous passions claw my soul , As with the wings of rancour and disdain Full oft am I soaring up to high heaven , To ' plain me to the gods against them both . But when I call to mind I ...
... hath pent and mewed me in a prison : For such outrageous passions claw my soul , As with the wings of rancour and disdain Full oft am I soaring up to high heaven , To ' plain me to the gods against them both . But when I call to mind I ...
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Golden Leaves: From the British and American Dramatic Poets (Classic Reprint) John W. S. Hows No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
Æneids AMBLA arms art thou bear behold Bian BIANCA Blan Blanche blessed blood breath brother Brutus Cæsar Cato Cham child Collatia crown curse dare daughter dead dear death dost thou doth dream Duke Duke of Milan earth Enter Evadne Exeunt Exit eyes farewell fate father fear fortune Gideon Giulio give gods grief hand hath hear heart Heaven Hecate honour hour King lady Lictors live look lord Lysimachus madam Mantua Marq marriage Marsio mother murder ne'er NEARCHUS never night noble o'er OROONOKO peace Pescara Philotas pity prison Pythias Ravenna revenge Seton Sfor Sforza sleep smile sorrow soul speak spirit sweet sword TAMERLANE tears tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought Twas twill Vent voice weep wouldst wretch youth
Popular passages
Page 25 - It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, — Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — It is the cause.
Page 35 - I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation ; nor the musician's which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, which is politic ; nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these...
Page 30 - O, reason not the need : our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous : Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's : thou art a lady ; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
Page 19 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false: at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Page 35 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Page 46 - Hear him but reason in divinity, And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the king were made a prelate...
Page 29 - Hear, Nature, hear ! dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb convey sterility ! Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her ! If she must teem...
Page 27 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page 47 - Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Page 18 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.