The Works of the British Dramatists: Carefully Selected from the Original Editions with Biographical Notes, Etc., EtcW.W. Swayne, 1870 - 509 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 100
Page 63
... I'll no more ; I'll lie down here . Dav . Rather , Urias , go thou home and sleep . Ur . O , ho , sir ! would you make me break my sentence ? [ Lies down . ] Home , sir ! no , indee , sir : I'll sleep upon mine arm , like a soldier ...
... I'll no more ; I'll lie down here . Dav . Rather , Urias , go thou home and sleep . Ur . O , ho , sir ! would you make me break my sentence ? [ Lies down . ] Home , sir ! no , indee , sir : I'll sleep upon mine arm , like a soldier ...
Page 79
... I'll to the court , and I'll prince it out ; and he shall make thee either a silken purse full of gold , or else a fine wrought smock . P. Edw . But how shall I have the maid ? Ralph . Marry , sirrah , if thou be'st a silken purse full ...
... I'll to the court , and I'll prince it out ; and he shall make thee either a silken purse full of gold , or else a fine wrought smock . P. Edw . But how shall I have the maid ? Ralph . Marry , sirrah , if thou be'st a silken purse full ...
Page 82
... I'll tell you , Margaret , ' a ' were good to be a gentleman's jade ; for of all things the foul hild- ing could not ... I'll have no more post- horse to ride on : I'll have another fetch.s Erms . I pray you , how is that , my lord ...
... I'll tell you , Margaret , ' a ' were good to be a gentleman's jade ; for of all things the foul hild- ing could not ... I'll have no more post- horse to ride on : I'll have another fetch.s Erms . I pray you , how is that , my lord ...
Page 83
... I'll warrant thee by mine honour . Bacon . What ! means the English prince to Wrong my man ? P. Edw . To whom speak'st thou ? Bacon . To thee . P. Edw . Who art thou ? Bacon . Could you not judge when all your swords grew fast , That ...
... I'll warrant thee by mine honour . Bacon . What ! means the English prince to Wrong my man ? P. Edw . To whom speak'st thou ? Bacon . To thee . P. Edw . Who art thou ? Bacon . Could you not judge when all your swords grew fast , That ...
Page 85
... I'll hamper up the match . I'll take my portace1 forth and wed you here : Then go to bed and seal up your desires . Lacy . Friar , content . - Peggy , how like you this ? Mar. What likes my lord is pleasing unto me . Bun . Then hand ...
... I'll hamper up the match . I'll take my portace1 forth and wed you here : Then go to bed and seal up your desires . Lacy . Friar , content . - Peggy , how like you this ? Mar. What likes my lord is pleasing unto me . Bun . Then hand ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Absalon Adur Antonio Apel art thou Bacon BACURIUS Bessus blood brother captain Cler Custance dare Daup dear death devil Dion dost doth drama Duch Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes Face fair faith father Faustus favour fear Feli Ferd fool fortune Fran Fressingfield Gaveston gentlemen give grace hand hath hear heart heaven hell honour hope Isab Joab king La-F Lacy lady live look lord Macrinus madam Mardonius Marry Master Master Doctor Master Humphrey Mellida Mephistophilis Merry miracle plays mistress Mortimer ne'er never night noble PESCARA Philaster Piero play pray prince Psyllus Ralph Re-enter Roister servant Sfor sister soul speak sweet sword tell thee Theoph there's thine thing thou art thou hast thou shalt thought Thra Tigranes True twill unto Wendoll wife woman word
Popular passages
Page 120 - Her lips suck forth my soul, see where it flies! Come Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
Page 108 - And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why should I grieve at my declining fall? — Farewell, fair queen; weep not for Mortimer, That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown.
Page 163 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed : Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. 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.
Page 112 - Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss? O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul!
Page l - With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin. All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes. She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas ! become of me?
Page 317 - Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping, Their life a general mist of error, Their death a hideous storm of terror. Strew your hair with powders sweet, Don clean linen, bathe your feet, And (the foul fiend more to check) A crucifix let bless your neck : 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day ; End your groan, and come away.
Page 56 - He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God ; and he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds ; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain.
Page 56 - Although my house be not so with God; yet he hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things, and sure: for this is all my salvation, and all my desire, although he make it not to grow.
Page 110 - All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command : emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several provinces, Nor can they raise the wind or rend the clouds ; But his dominion that exceeds in this Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man, A sound magician is a mighty god : Here, Faustus, tire thy brains to gain a deity.
Page 114 - And long ere this I should have slain myself, Had not sweet pleasure conquered deep despair, Have not I made blind Homer sing to me Of Alexander's love and CEnon's death? And hath not he that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Made music with my Mephistophilis ? Why should I die then, or basely despair ? I am resolved.- Faustus shall ne'er repent— Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again, And argue of divine Astrology.