The Dramatic Works of Massinger and Ford

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G. Routledge, 1875 - 662 pages

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Page 306 - For, though I do contemn report myself As a mere sound, I still will be so tender Of what concerns you, in all points of honour, That the immaculate whiteness of your fame, Nor your unquestioned integrity, Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot That may take from your innocence and candour.
Page 3 - To glorify their Tempe, bred in me Desire of visiting that paradise. To Thessaly I came : and living private, Without acquaintance of more sweet companions, Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts, I day by day frequented silent groves, And solitary walks. One morning early This accident encounter'd me : I heard The sweetest and most ravishing contention That art and nature ever were at strife in.
Page xxi - EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. UNDERNEATH this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother ; Death ! ere thou hast slain another, Learned, and fair, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.
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 306 - Yes, as rocks are, When foamy billows split themselves against Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is moved, When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness.
Page 295 - For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind Made up of all parts, either great or noble ; So winning a behaviour, not to be Resisted, madam.
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 7 - Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents. I would leave kingdoms, were I queen of some, To dwell with thy good father ; for, the son Bewitching me so deeply with his presence, He that begot him must do't ten times more.
Page 328 - 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 lamp for ever banish'd.
Page 313 - I'll not waste A syllable, but thus I take the life Which, wretched, I gave to thee. \_Attempts to kill MARGARET. Lov. [coming forward.] Hold, for your own sake ! Though charity to your daughter hath quite left you, Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here, Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter?

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