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Alexander Brome bafe beast Beaumont and Fletcher's beauty becaufe benesit breath Caligula Catiline caufe Chapman's confcience courfe court Crown's cuckold Davenanfs Davenant's death deeds doth earth elfe ev'n ev'ry eyes fafe fair fall fame fcarce fcorn fear feem feldom fenfe fmall fome fools foon fortune foul fpeak fpirit fpring fubject fuch fure fweet fword give glory Gondibert grace grief grow hath heart heav'n Henry VII himfelf Honest Whore honour itfelf Johnson's Julius Cæsar King Henry lefs live lofe Lord Brook's mind Mirror for Magistrates nature ne'er never ourfelves Philotas pity Platonick Lovers pleafure poets poor pow'r praife prefent prince rage reafon Sejanus Shakespear's shew Shirley's sield sight sire sirst Spenser's Fairy Tamburlaine thee thefe themfelves things thofe thou thoufand thoughts tongue true unto virtue Whilst whofe wife wind worfe
Page 43 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Page 134 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence, But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use.
Page 28 - tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend: so Caesar may; Then, lest he may, prevent.
Page 167 - He was perfumed like a milliner, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took't away again; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff...
Page 167 - But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly...
Page 16 - Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad.' ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in, stones, and good in every thing.
Page 224 - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters : — To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
Page 86 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Page 182 - A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward ? Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ? Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ? Ha!