The Works of Beaumont & Fletcher: The Text Formed from a New Collation of the Early Editions, Volume 6 (Google eBook)

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Edward Moxon, 1844
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Page 245 - Nothing can cover his high fame but heaven ; No pyramids set off his memories, But the eternal substance of his greatness, To which I leave him.
Page 199 - Memnon, armed with thunder ! See how he breaks the ranks asunder ! They fly ! they fly ! Eumenes has the chase, And brave Polybius makes good his place. To the plains, to the woods, To the rocks, to the floods, They fly for succour. Follow, follow, follow ! Hark how the soldiers hollow ! Hey, hey ! Brave Diocles is dead, And all his soldiers fled; The battle's won, and lost, That many a life hath cost.
Page 361 - They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way, And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; For 'tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his own petar...
Page 278 - Gesar," hung about you tenderly, Was proud to appear your friend — Casar. You have mistaken me. Cleo. But neither eye, nor favour, not a smile, Was I bless' d back with, but shook off rudely ; And, as you had been sold to sordid infamy, You fell before the images of treasure, And in your soul you worshipp'd : I stood slighted, Forgotten, and contemn'd ; my soft embraces, And those sweet kisses you call'd Elysium, As letters writ in sand, no more remember'd ; The name and glory of your Cleopatra...
Page 246 - And, now you've found the nature of a conqueror That you cannot decline, with all your flatteries; That, where the day gives light, will be himself still ; Know how to meet his worth with humane courtesies!
Page 246 - That bounty share amongst ye : if I knew What to send you for a present, king of Egypt, I mean, a head of equal reputation, And that you lov'd, though it were your brightest sister's,* (But her you hate) I would not be behind ye.
Page 246 - That man that could not recompense the benefits, The great and bounteous services, of Pompey, Can never dote upon the name of Caesar. Though I had hated Pompey, and allow'd his...
Page 196 - Till they grow to mutual fires : Thou, oh gentle queen, that art Curer of each wounded heart : Thou, the fuel and the flame ; Thou, in Heaven, and here the same ; Thou, the wooer, and the woo'd : Thou, the hunger and the food : Thou, the prayer, and the pray'd ; Thou, what is, or shall be said : Thou, still young, and golden tressed, Make me by thy answer blessed ! СЛ«.
Page 230 - Like a religious and honest man, Worthy the honour that he justly holds In being priest to Isis. But, alas, What in a man sequester'd from the world, Or in a private person, is preferr'd, No policy allows of in a king : To be or just, or thankful, makes kings guilty...
Page 172 - Tis not for my memory, But thy rites of obsequy. The altar was my loving breast, My heart the sacrificed beast, And I was myself the priest. Your body was the sacred shrine, Your cruel mind the power divine, Pleased with the hearts of men, not kine.

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