The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Robert Greene and George Peele: With Memoirs of the Authors and Notes

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Routledge, Warne and Routledge, 1861 - English drama - 624 pages

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Page 286 - When he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ; When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.
Page 305 - Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, What lady would not love a shepherd...
Page 314 - Others hold there is no wealth Compared to a perfect health. Some man's mind in quiet stands, When he is lord of many lands. But I did sigh, and said all this Was but a shade of perfect bliss; And in my thoughts I did approve, Nought so sweet as is true love.
Page 177 - Yes, marry, am I. MILES. Good Lord, master Plutus, I have seen you a thousand times at my master's, and yet I had never the manners to make you drink. But, sir, I am glad to see how conformable you are to - the statute. I warrant you, he's as yeomanly a man as you shall see: mark you, masters, here's a plain honest man, without welt or guard.
Page 59 - Defer not (with me) till this last point of extremity ; for little knowest thou how in the end thou shalt be visited.
Page 179 - Time of the moneth or day hee knew not: also hee told them, that if they heard it not before it had done speaking, all their labour should be lost: they being satisfied, licensed the spirit for to depart. Then went these two learned fryers home...
Page 336 - To those gentlemen, his quondam acquaintance, that spend their wits in making plays, RG wisheth a better exercise, and wisdom to prevent his extremities.
Page 317 - abroad was lated in the night, His wings were wet with ranging in the rain ; Harbour he sought, to me he took his flight, To dry his plumes : I heard the boy complain ; I oped the door, and granted his desire, I rose myself, and made the wag a fire.
Page 286 - Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. The wanton smiled, father wept, Mother cried, baby leapt ; More he crowed, more we cried, Nature could not sorrow hide : He must go, he must kiss Child and mother, baby bless, For he left his pretty boy, SAMELA.
Page 23 - At my return into England I ruffled out in my silks, in the habit of malcontent, and seemed so discontent that no place would please me to abide in, nor no vocation cause me to stay myself in...

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