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Abig Abigail Æneas arms Barabas bear Bell blood bring brother comes command crown dead death Dido doth Dyce Earl Edward England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father fear fire follow France friar friends Gaveston give gold gone Governor grace Guise hand hast hate hath head hear heart heaven hence Henry highness honour hope hundred I'll Iarbas Italy Itha Ithamore keep Kent king Lancaster leave letter Light live look lord madam Malta mean mind Mortimer mother murder Navarre never night noble Old ed Pilia poor presently prince Queen rest revenge SCENE ships soldiers soul speak Spencer stand stay sweet sword tell thee thou thoughts town traitor turn unto villain young
Seite 194 - Gallop apace, bright Phoebus, through the sky, And dusky night, in rusty iron car, Between you both shorten the time, I pray, That I may see that most desired day When we may meet these traitors in the field.
Seite 206 - But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds ; But, when the imperial lion's flesh is gored, He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, And highly scorning that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up into the air.
Seite 208 - My head, the latest honour due to it, And jointly both yield up their wished right. Continue ever thou celestial sun; Let never silent night possess this clime: Stand still you watches...
Seite 35 - Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, Vex'd and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians.
Seite 228 - I see my tragedy written in thy brows. Yet stay a while, forbear thy bloody hand, And let me see the stroke before it comes, That even then when I shall lose my life, My mind may be more steadfast on my God.
Seite 75 - Thou hast committed Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead.
Seite 227 - Tell Isabel, the queen, I looked not thus, When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, And there unhorsed the Duke of Cleremont.
Seite 121 - I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, Musicians, that with touching of a string May draw the pliant king which way I please; Music and poetry is his delight; Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows...
Seite 99 - Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.