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beauty blessing blood breath brother Caelica Clor COMEDY Corb Court curse dare daughter dead dear death dost doth Duch earth eyes fair father Faustus fear fortune FRANCIS BEAUMONT GEORGE CHAPMAN GEORGE PEEL give gods grief hand happy hath hear heart heaven hell honour hope Jacin JAMES SHIRLEY JOHN FLETCHER JOHN MARSTON JOHN WEBSTER King kiss Lady leave live look Lord Madam maid methinks mistress Moth mother ne'er never night noble Ovid passion Peneus Phao PHILIP MASSINGER pity play pleasure poor pray Prince Queen revenge rich Sapho Shakspeare shew sleep sorrow soul speak spirit sweet tears tell thee thine things THOMAS HEYWOOD THOMAS MIDDLETON thou art thou hast thoughts Thyestes thyself TRAGEDY true twas unto virtue weep what's Whilst wife woman
Page 33 - Something still buzzeth in mine ears, And tells me, if I sleep I never wake ; This fear is that which makes me tremble thus. And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come? Light. To rid thee of thy life ; Matrevis, come. Enter Matrevis and Gurney. Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist : Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul.
Page 245 - Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm : But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again.
Page 97 - There is no danger to a man that knows What life and death is; there's not any law Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful That he should stoop to any other law.
Page 45 - O, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. (Thunder and lightning. O soul, be changed into little water-drops, And fall into the ocean- — ne'er be found.
Page 39 - All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings Are but...
Page 44 - Perpetual day; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul!
Page 8 - Here be grapes, whose lusty blood Is the learned poet's good. Sweeter yet did never crown The head of Bacchus ; nuts more brown Than the squirrel's teeth that crack them...
Page 24 - I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows ; And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay...