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Alcade Altofront Antimon Ariad Aurelia banish banish'd beauty Ben Jonson Bian Bilioso blood breath Celso Clown Cornets court crown cuckold Cundall dance dead death Delphos devil dost doth duke dutchess Emilia Enter Malevole Equato Eusanius Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith falling band father favour fear Ferneze Ferrardo fool Garrick collection give hand hast hate hath hear heart heaven here's honour is't JOHN WEBSTER king knave lady leave live Lord Malcontent Maquerelle Maria marry Mendoza methinks ne'er never night noble old copy Palemon Pass Phean Pheander Pietro play Prepasso prince prisoner Radagon second 4to Serena shepherds Sicil Sicilia sing Sinklow slave Soph Sophos soul speak strange sure sweet tell thee thou art thou shalt Thrace Thracian Tityrus twas unto villain whilst woman women worthy
Page 78 - Tugs at his oar against the stubborn wave, Straining his rugged veins, snores fast; The stooping scythe-man, that doth barb the field, Thou makest wink sure.
Page 28 - Made only to provoke, not satiate : " And yet even then the thaw of her delight " Flows from lewd heat of apprehension, " Only from strange imagination's rankness, " That forms the adulterer's presence in her soul, " And makes her think she clips the foul knave's
Page 121 - ... as nowa-days, no courtier but has his mistress, no captain but has his cockatrice*, no cuckold but has his horns, and no fool but has his feather...
Page 37 - Phaeton! in body how delicate, in 45 soul how witty, in discourse how pregnant, in life how wary, in favours how judicious, in day how sociable, and in night how — O pleasure unutterable!
Page 58 - Rivels the skin, casts ashes in men's faces, Bedulls the eye, unstrengthens all the blood, Chance to remove me to another world, As sure I once must die, let him succeed.
Page 67 - How fortune dotes on impudence ! I am in private the adopted son of yon good prince. I must be duke. Why, if I must, I must. Most silly lord, name me? O heaven! I see God made honest fools to maintain crafty knaves.
Page 166 - I'll not forsake thee; Runn'st thou ne'er so fast, I'll o'ertake thee : O'er the dales, o'er the downs, Through the green meadows, From the fields, through the towns, To the dim shadows.
Page 107 - Agamemnon, emperor of all the merry Greeks, that tickled all the true Trojans, was a cornuto. Prince Arthur, that cut off twelve kings
Page 66 - Men. You do confirm me ; we are resolute : To-morrow look for change ; rest confident. 'Tis now about the immodest waist of night : The mother of moist dew with pallid light Spreads gloomy shades about the numbed earth. Sleep, sleep, whilst we contrive our mischief's birth.