Specimens of English Dramatic Poets: Who Lived about the Time of Shakespeare. With Notes, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

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Charles Lamb
E. Moxon, 1844 - English drama
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Page 81 - And bless'd the house a thousand times she dwelt in. This beauty, in the blossom of my youth, When my first fire knew no adulterate incense, Nor I no way to flatter but my fondness, In all the bravery my friends could show me, In all the faith my innocence could give me, In the best language my true tongue could tell me, And all the broken sighs my sick heart lent me, I sued, and serv'd. Long did I love this lady...
Page 39 - Egyptians, dare ye think your highest pyramids, Built to nut-dun- the sun, as you suppose, Where your unworthy kings lie raked in ashes, Are monuments fit for him ? No, brood of Nilus, 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 175 - My love can pipe, my love can sing, My love can many a pretty thing, And of his lovely praises ring My merry, merry roundelays, Amen to Cupid's curse, They that do change, &c.
Page 11 - em he would weep As if he meant to make 'em grow again. Seeing such pretty helpless innocence Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story. He told me that his parents gentle, died, Leaving him to the mercy of the fields Which gave him roots ; and of the crystal springs, Which did not stop their courses; and the sun, Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his light.
Page 7 - 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 61 - t in a woman's key, like such a woman As any of us three ; weep ere you fail; Lend us a knee ; But touch the ground for us no longer time Than a dove's motion, when the head 's pluck'd off; Tell him, if he i' the blood-siz'd field lay swoln, Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, What you would do ! Hip.
Page 9 - My lord, Give me your griefs : You are an innocent, A soul as white as heaven ; let not my sins Perish your noble youth. I do not fall here To shadow, by dissembling with my tears, (As, all say, women can), or to make less, What my hot will hath done, which Heaven and you Know to be tougher than the hand of time Can cut from man's remembrance.
Page 284 - A tragicomedy is not so called in respect of mirth and killing, but in respect it wants deaths, which is enough to make it no tragedy, yet brings some near it, which is enough to make it no comedy, which must be a representation of familiar people, with such kind of trouble as no life be questioned; so that a god is as lawful in this as in a tragedy, and mean people as in a comedy.
Page 175 - Fair and fair and twice so fair, As fair as any may be : Thy love is fair for thee alone, And for no other lady.
Page 74 - Yes, as rocks are, When foamy billows split themselves against Their flinty ribs ; or as the moon is moved, When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness.

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