The faire maid of the Exchange. A woman killed with kindnesse. The four prentises of London. The fair maid of the west (Google eBook)

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J. Pearson, 1874
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Page 106 - Whose hands may help me in this plunge of want. I would I were in heaven, to inherit there Th...
Page 151 - I'll do your commendations. Mrs. A. Oh ! no: I dare not so presume ; nor to my children : I am disclaim'd in both ; alas ! I am. Oh ! never teach them, when they come to speak, To name the name of mother : chide their tongue, If they by chance light on that hated word ; Tell them 'tis naught : for when that word they name, (Poor, pretty souls !) they harp on their own shame.
Page 128 - Hath left to visit me, and from my friends Hath brought no hopeful answer ; therefore, I Divine they will not help my misery. If it be so, shame, scandal, and contempt Attend their covetous thoughts ; need make their graves : Usurers they live, and may they die like slaves.
Page 108 - I'm hurried to mine own destruction! There goest thou, the most perfect'st man That ever England bred a gentleman, And shall I wrong his bed? Thou God of thunder! Stay, in thy thoughts of vengeance and of wrath, Thy great, almighty, and all-judging hand From speedy execution on a villain, A villain, and a traitor to his friend.
Page 147 - In satisfaction of all former wrongs. This jewel I will wear here in my heart ; And, where before I thought her for her wants Too base to be my bride, to end all strife, I seal you my dear brother, her my wife.
Page 142 - Thy name's recorded in the book of life, I charge thee never after this sad day To see me or to meet me ; or to send By word, or writing, gift, or otherwise, To move me, by thyself, or by thy friends ; Nor challenge any part in my two children. So farewell, Nan ; for we will henceforth be^ As we had never seen, ne'er more shall see.
Page 139 - Go, villain ; and my wrongs sit on thy soul As heavy as this grief doth upon mine. When thou record'st my many courtesies, And shalt compare them with thy treacherous heart, Lay them together, weigh them equally, 'Twill be revenge enough. Go, to thy friend A Judas : pray, pray, lest I live to see Thee, Judas-like, hang'd on an elder-tree.
Page 150 - And stones to dance to his melodious harp, Meaning the rustic and the barbarous hinds, That had no understanding part in them : So she from these rude carters tears extracts, Making their flinty hearts with grief to rise, And draw down rivers from their rocky eyes.
Page 129 - ... was it he ? So ^Master Roder, Master Sandy, too. Which of all these did this high kindness do ? Susan. Charles, can you mock me in your poverty, , Knowing your friends deride your misery ? Now, I protest I stand so much...
Page 102 - I am sorry that the blood of innocent men Should be of you exacted. It was told me That you were guarded with a troop of friends, And therefore I come thus armed.

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