The Works of Ben Jonson...: With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and a Biographical Memoir, Volume 5 (Google eBook)

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printed for G. and W. Nicol, 1816
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Page 164 - Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it : his mind and hand went together ; and what he thought, he uttered with that easiness, that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers.
Page 68 - Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she! From...
Page 67 - Do but look on her eyes, they do light All that Love's world compriseth. Do but look on her hair, it is bright As Love's star when it riseth. Do but mark, her forehead's smoother Than words that soothe her.
Page 442 - Run on and rage, sweat, censure, and condemn ; They were not made for thee, less thou for them. Say that thou pour'st them wheat, And they will acorns eat ; 'Twere simple fury still thyself to waste On such as have no taste...
Page 137 - I myself thought good to imitate the Italian fashion by this forked cutting of meate, not only while I was in Italy, but also in Germany, and oftentimes in England since I came home...
Page 352 - What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness?
Page 68 - Have you marked but the fall of the snow, Before the soil hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of the beaver, Or swan's down ever ? Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier ? Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! n.
Page 199 - Mirth leads us to suppose that it was a very common termination of the adventures of the Vice for him to be carried off to hell on the back of the devil : ' he would carry away the Vice on his back, quick to hell, in every play where he came.
Page 411 - WHAI™ Lov. A meditation, Or rather a vision, madam, and of beauty, Our former subject. Lady F. Pray you let us hear it, Lov. // was a beauty that I saw So pure, so perfect, as the frame Of all the universe was lame, To that one figure, could I draw, Or give least line of 'it a law ! A skein of silk without a knot, A fair march made without a halt, A curious form without a fault, A printed book without a blot, All beauty, and without a spot ! Lady F.
Page 60 - Thirdly, plays have made the ignorant more apprehensive,* taught the unlearned the knowledge of many famous histories, instructed such as cannot read in the discovery* of all our English chronicles; and what man have you now of that weak capacity that cannot discourse of any notable thing recorded even from William the Conqueror, nay, from the landing of Brute, until this day...

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