The Works of John Webster, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

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W. Pickering, 1830
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Page 7 - A great part of the grace of this, I confess, lay in action ; yet can no action ever be gracious, where the decency of the language, and ingenious structure of the scene, arrive not to make up a perfect harmony.
Page 216 - That makes thee wretched. Old man, I am sorry for thee that thy love By custom is grown natural, which by nature Should be an absolute...
Page 146 - I'll know you But only by your virtue : brother or father, In dishonest suit, shall be to me As is the branded slave. Justice should have No kindred, friends, nor foes, nor hate, nor love ; As free from passion as the gods above. I was your friend and kinsman, now your judge ; And whilst I hold the scales, a downy feather Shall as soon turn them as a mass of pearl, Or diamonds. MAR. CLAUD. (Aside.) Excellent, excellent lapwing! There's other stuff clos'd in that subtle breast : He sings and beats...
Page 12 - There is then a heavenly beauty in 't, the soul Moves in the superficies. Honorable Employment. Oh, my lord, lie not idle: The chiefest action for a man of great spirit Is never to be out of action. We should think; The soul was never put into the body, Which has so many rare and curious pieces Of mathematical motion, to stand still. Virtue is ever sowing of her seeds: In the trenches for the soldier ; in the wakeful study For the scholar; in the furrows of the sea For men of our profession : of...
Page 127 - All the flowers of the spring Meet to perfume our burying : These have but their growing prime, And man does flourish but his time. Survey our progress from our birth ; We are set, we grow, we turn to earth Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites. Sweetest breath and clearest eye (Like perfumes) go out and die; And consequently this is done, As shadows wait upon the sun. Vain the ambition of kings, Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but...
Page 254 - I'll damn * my soul for no man, no, for no man. Who at doomsday must answer for my sin ? Not you, nor you, my lords. Who nam'd Queen Jane, in noble Henry's days, Which of you all durst once displace his issue ? My lords, my lords, you whet your knives so sharp To carve your meat, that they will cut your fingers : The strength is weakness that you build upon. The king is sick, God mend him, ay, God mend him! * damn.'] The old copy,
Page 43 - For that, let me embrace you. Con. Methinks, being an Italian, I trust you To come somewhat too near me: But your jealousy gave that embrace, to try If I were arm'd ; did it not ? Ere.
Page 308 - One of the seven was wont to say, that laws were like cobwebs, where the small flies were caught, and the great brake through...
Page 52 - O, look the last act be the best i'th' play, And then rest, gentle bones : yet pray, That when by the precise you are view'd, A superscdeas be not sued, To remove you to a place more airy, That in your stead they may keep chary Stock-fish, or sea-coal, for the abuses Of sacrilege have turn'd graves to...
Page 313 - We are beholding unto such beholders. The time was, lords, when you did flock amain To see her crown'd, but now to kill my Jane. The world like to a sickle bends itself : Men run their course of lives as in a maze : Our office is to die, yours but to gaze.

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