The Works of Ben Jonson: With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and a Biographical Memoir, Volume 2

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Bickers and Son, 1875 - English drama
 

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Page 339 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose: Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess, excellently bright! Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver: Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever; Thou that...
Page 563 - I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe should dare to invade the borders of my realm...
Page 70 - I am determined to put forth some five thousand pound, to be paid me five for one, upon the return of myself, my wife, and my dog from the Turk's court in Constantinople. If all or either of us miscarry in the journey, 'tis gone: if we be successful, why, there will be five and twenty thousand pound to entertain time withal.
Page 210 - em would poison me. I should not dare to come in at their gates. — A man were better visit fifteen jails — or a dozen or two of hospitals — than once adventure to come near them.
Page 241 - You know that I call Madam Philantia my honour, and she calls me her ambition. Now, when I meet her in the presence anon, I will come to her and say, "Sweet Honour, I have hitherto contented my sense with the lilies of your hand, but now I will taste the roses of your lip" ... to which she cannot but blushing answer, "Nay, now you are too ambitious.
Page 554 - And they fetched forth Urijah out of Egypt, and brought him unto Jehoiakim the king; who slew him with the sword, and cast his dead body into the graves of the common people.
Page 223 - Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears : Yet slower, yet ; O faintly, gentle springs : List to the heavy part the music bears, Woe weeps out her division when she sings. Droop herbs and flowers, Fall grief in showers, Our beauties are not ours ; 0, I could still, Like melting snow upon some craggy hill, Drop, drop, drop, drop, Since nature's pride is now a withered daffodil.
Page 479 - That sought to scale Jove's court, right swift of pace, And swifter far of wing, a monster vast And dreadful. Look, how many plumes are placed On her huge corpse, so many waking eyes Stick underneath, and, which may stranger rise In the report, as many tongues she wears.
Page 521 - Leave me! There's something come into my thought That must and shall be sung high and aloof Safe from the wolf's black jaw and the dull ass's hoof.

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