The dramatic works of Ben Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher: printed from the text, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

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printed for John Stockdale, 1811
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Page 387 - Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby ; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby : Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh ; So, good night, with lullaby.
Page 395 - His gardens next your admiration call; On every side you look, behold the wall! No pleasing intricacies intervene, No artful wildness to perplex the scene ; Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother, And half the platform just reflects the other.
Page 264 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one (from whence they came) Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life...
Page 14 - Do my face (If thou had'st ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me look Like Sorrow's monument ; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leafless ; let the rocks Groan with continual surges ; and behind me, Make all a desolation.
Page xxvi - Which did not stop their courses ; and the sun, Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his light. Then took he up his garland and did show, What every flower, as country people hold, Did signify ; and how all order'd thus Express'd his grief : and to my thoughts did read The prettiest lecture of his country art That could be wish'd, so that, methought, I could Have studied it. I gladly entertain'd him, Who was as glad to follow ; and have got The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy That...
Page 372 - What might this be ? A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues, that syllable men's names On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.
Page xlix - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod...
Page xxix - Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced title running 'fore the king...
Page 554 - And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate" by his side come hot from hell , Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry "Havoc," and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men , groaning for burial.
Page 43 - I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn. Age and experience will adorn my mind With larger knowledge : and if I have done A wilful fault, think me not past all hope For once; what master holds so strict a hand Over his boy, that he will part with him Without one warning? Let me be corrected To break my stubbornness if it be so, Rather than turn me off, and I shall mend.

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