« PreviousContinue »
Have paid scot and lot there any time this eighteen years.
Every Man in his Humour. Act üi. Sc. 3. It must be done like lightning.
Act iv. Sc. v.
There shall be no love lost.1
Every Man out of his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 1. Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast.?
Epicæne; Or, the Silent Woman. Act i. Sc. 1. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free, Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Ibid. That old bald cheater, Time. The Poetaster. Acti, Sc. 1. The world knows only two, that's Rome and I.
Sejanus. Act v. Sc. 1. Preserving the sweetness of proportion and expressing itself beyond expression.
The Masque of Hymen. Courses even with the sun Doth her mighty brother run. The Gipsies Metamorphosed. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die; Which in life did harbour give To more virtue than doth live.
Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H. Whilst that for which all virtue now is sold, And almost every vice, -- almighty gold.
Epistle to Elizabeth, Countess of Rutland.
1 There is no love lost between us. CERVANTES : Don Quixote, part ii. chap. xxxiii.
2 A translation from Bonnefonius.
3 The flattering, mighty, nay, almighty gold. Wolcot: To Kien Long, Ode iv.
Almighty dollar. – IRVING : The Creole Village.
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine.1
The Forest. To Celia. Soul of the age, The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage, My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room.?
To the Memory of Shakespeare. Marlowe's mighty line.
Ibid. Small Latin, and less Greek.
Ibid. He was not of an age, but for all time.
Ibid. For a good poet's made as well as born.
Sweet swan of Avon !
Underneath this sable hearse
Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke.8
1 Εμοί δε μόνοις πρύπινε τοις όμμασιν. ... Ει δε βούλει, τοις χείλεσι προσφέρουσα, πλήρου φιλημάτων το έκπωμα, και ούτως δίδου
(Drink to me with your eyes alone. . And if you will, take the cup to your lips and fill it with kisses, and give it so to me).
PHILOSTRATUS : Letter xxiv. 2 Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie
BASSE : On Shakespeare. 3 This epitaph is generally ascribed to Ben Jonson. It appears in the editions of his Works ; but in a manuscript collection of Browne's poems preserved amongst the Lansdowne MS. No. 777, in the British Museum, it is ascribed to Browne, and awarded to him by Sir Egerton Brydges in his edition of Browne's poems.
Let those that merely talk and never think,
Underwoods. An Epistle, answering to One that asked to
be sealed of the Tribe of Ben. Still may syllabes jar with time, Still may reason war with rhyme,
Ibid. Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme. In small proportion we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.
Ibid. To the immortal Memory of Sir Lucius Cary
and Sir Henry Morison. III. What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew, Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew ? ?
Elegy on the Lady Jane Pawlet.
I know death hath ten thousand several doors
Duchess of Malfi. Acl iv. Sc. 2. 'T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden, - the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.* The White Devil. Act i. Sc. 2. Condemn you me for that the duke did love me? So may you blame some fair and crystal river For that some melancholic, distracted man Hath drown'd himself in 't.
Act iii. Sc. 2.
1 They never taste who always drink ;
Prior : Upon a passage in the Scaligerana.
Pope : To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. 3 Death hath so many doors to let out life. – BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER : The Customs of the Country, act ü. sc. 2.
4 See Davies, page 176.
Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
The White Devil. Act iv. Sc. 4.
Act v. Sc. 2. Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood burns brightest, old linen wash whitest? Old soldiers, sweetheart, are surest, and old lovers are soundest.?
Westward Hoe. Act ii, Sc. 2. I saw him now going the way of all flesh.
A wise man poor
Old Fortunatus. And though mine arm should conquer twenty worlds, There's a lean fellow beats all conquerors.
1 The mountains, too, at a distance appear airy masses and smooth, but when beheld close they are rough. — DIOGENES LAERTIUS : Pyrrho.
Love is like a landscape which doth stand
ROBERT HEGGE : On Love.
YALDEN : Against Enjoyment.
Garth : The Dispensatory, canto iii. line 27.
CAMPBELL: Pleasures of Hope, part i. line 7. 2 See Bacon, page 171.
The best of men
The Honest Whore. Part i. Act i. Sc. 12. I was ne'er so thrummed since I was a gentleman.”
Act iv. Sc. 2. This principle is old, but true as fate, — Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.
Sc. 4. We are ne'er like angels till our passion dies.
Part ii. Act i. Sc. 2. Turn over a new leaf.4
Act ii. Sc. 1. To add to golden numbers golden numbers.
Patient Grissell. Act i. Sc. 1. Honest labour bears a lovely face.
BISHOP HALL. 1574-1656. Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues.
Christian Moderation. Introduction. Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave.
Epistles. Dec. iä. Ep. 2. There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowels of the earth, many a fair pearl laid up in the bosom of the sea, that never was seen, nor never shall be.
Contemplations. Book ir. The veil of Moses.
1 Of the offspring of the gentilman Jafeth come Habraham, Moyses, Aron, and the profettys ; also the Kyng of the right lyne of Mary, of whom that gentilman Jhesus was borne. - JULIANA BERNERS : Heraldic Blazonry.
2 See Shakespeare, page 78.
3 Cæsar said he loved the treason, but bated the traitor. – PLUTARCH : Life of Romulus. 4 See Middleton, page 174.
5 And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb.
Young : Night Thoughts, night v. line 718.
GRAY: Elegy, stanza 14.