The Plays of Philip Massinger: Introduction; Essay on the dramatick writings of Massinger, by John Ferriar; Commendatory verses on Massinger; A list of Massinger's plays; Glossarial index. The virgin-martyr. The unnatural combat. The Duke of Milan (Google eBook)
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admiral angels Anton appear Artem Artemia Aston Cockayne Beauf Beauf.jun BEAUFORT junior Belg Bondman Christian court Coxeter dare daughter death Dioclesian Diode Dorothea dramatick Duke of Milan dutchess edition emperor Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Fatal Dowry father favour fear fortune Fran Francisco give Grac Graccho hand happy Harp Harpax hast hath hear heaven honour hope Isab Jonson king King's company lady live look lord Macrinus Malef Malefort Marc Marcelia Mason Massinger Massinger's mistress modern editors Montr Montreville musick ne'er never noble observe old copies Parliament of Love Pesc Pescara PHILIP MASSINGER pity play poet pray printed quarto Sapritius SCENE servant serve Sfor Sforza Shakspeare shew slave soul speak Spun stand Steph sweet thee Theoc Theocrine Theoph Theophilus there's thing thou art Unnatural Combat Virgin-Martyr word wretched writers
Page cxiv - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Page 33 - No, my dear lady, I could weary stars, And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes By my late watching, but to wait on you. When at your prayers you kneel before the altar, Methinks I 'm singing with some quire in heaven, So blest I hold me in your company...
Page cviii - And yet I found, What weak credulity could have no faith in, A treasure far exceeding these : here lay A manor bound fast in a skin of parchment, The wax continuing hard, the acres melting ; Here a sure deed of gift for a market-town, If not redeem'd this day, which is not in The unthrift's power : there being scarce one shire In Wales or England, where my monies are not Lent out at usury, the certain hook To draw in more.
Page cxvi - Here they, that never see themselves, but in The glass of servile flattery, might behold The weak foundation upon which they build Their trust in human frailty. Happy are those, That knowing, in their births, they are subject to Uncertain change, are still prepared, and arm'd For either fortune...
Page 279 - But when We enter towns by force, and carve ourselves Pleasure with pillage, and the richest wines Open our shrunk-up veins, and pour into them New blood and fervour Med.
Page cxvi - Humanity then lodged in the hearts of men, And thankful masters carefully provided For creatures wanting reason. The noble horse, That, in his fiery youth, from his wide nostrils Neigh'd courage to his rider, and brake through Groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord Safe to triumphant victory ; old or wounded, Was set at liberty, and freed from service. The Athenian mules, that from the quarry urew Marble, hew'd for the temples of the gods.
Page xiii - In the large book of plays you late did print " In Beaumont and in Fletcher's name, why in't " Did you not justice, give to each his due ? " For Beaumont of those many, writ but few: " And Massinger in other few ; the main " Being sweet issues of sweet Fletcher's brain.
Page 115 - Being almost past through, in this last moment Destroy whate'er thou hast done good or great — Thy youth did promise much ; and, grown a man, Thou mad'st it good, and, with increase of years, Thy actions still better'd : as the sun, Thou did'st rise gloriously, kept'st a constant course In all thy journey ; and now, in the evening, When thou should'st pass with honour to thy rest, Wilt thou fall like a meteor ? Sap.
Page cvii - Hermes' moly, Sibylla's golden bough, the great elixir, Imagined only by the alchemist, Compared with thee are shadows, — thou the substance, And guardian of felicity ! No marvel My brother made thy place of rest his bosom, Thou being the keeper of his heart, a mistress To be hugg'd ever ! In by-corners of This sacred room, silver in bags, heap'd up Like billets saw'd and ready for the fire, Unworthy to hold fellowship with bright gold That flow'd about the room, conceal'd itself. There needs no...