Specimens of English Dramatic Poets: Who Lived about the Time of Shakespeare. With Notes

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Charles Lamb
Wiley & Putnam, 1845 - English drama
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Page 218 - 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 25 - Light. To murder you, my most gracious lord ! Far is it from my heart to do you harm. The queen sent me to see how you were used, For she relents at this your misery : And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, To see a king in this most piteous state? K. Edw. Weep'st thou already? list awhile to me. And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is, Or as Matrevis', hewn from the Caucasus, Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale.
Page 19 - 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...
Page 36 - Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of Heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again and make 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! O lente, lente, currite noctis equi!
Page 200 - ... sooner than on a merry milkmaid's. Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse should be forced to take up her lodging in a cat's ear: a little infant that breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow.
Page 106 - Do my face (If thou had'st ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me look Like Sorrow's monument ; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leafless ; let the rocks Groan with continual surges ; and behind me, Make all a desolation.
Page 202 - Not a whit: What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds? or to be smothered With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls? I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits ; and 'tis found They go on such strange geometrical hinges, You may open them both ways.
Page 120 - O'er the white Alps alone ; I saw him, I, Assail'd, fight, taken, stabb'd, bleed, fall, and die. Augur me better chance, except dread Jove Think it enough for me to have had thy love.
Page 28 - Give me the merchants of the Indian mines, That trade in metal of the purest mould; The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks Without control can pick his riches up, And in his house heap pearl like pebble stones, Receive them free, and sell them by the weight!
Page 210 - So entangled in a cursed accusation, That my defence, of force, like Perseus, Must personate masculine virtue. To the point. Find me but guilty, sever head from body, We'll part good friends : I scorn to hold my life At yours, or any man's intreaty, Sir. En. Emb. She hath a brave spirit.

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