The Chief Elizabethan Dramatists, Excluding Shakespeare

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William Allan Neilson
Houghton Mifflin, 1911 - Počet stran: 878
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Strana 83 - Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss? O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul!
Strana 102 - Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings; Vex'd and tormented, runs poor Barrabas, With fatal curses towards these Christians.
Strana 138 - Treacherous Warwick! traitorous Mortimer! If I be England's king, in lakes of gore Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail, That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood, And stain my royal standard with the same, That so my bloody colours may suggest Remembrance of revenge immortally On your accursed traitorous progeny, You villains that have slain my Gaveston!
Strana 94 - Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in, the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appeared to hapless Semele: More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azured arms:" And none but thou shalt be my paramour!
Strana 106 - I filled the jails with bankrupts in a year, And with young orphans planted hospitals, And every moon made some or other mad, And now and then one hang himself for grief, Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll How I with interest tormented him.
Strana 122 - Come, Gaveston, And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend.' Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight ! What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston Than live and be the favourite of a king ? Sweet prince, I come; these, these thy amorous lines Might have...
Strana 150 - Do as you are commanded by my lord. Light. I know what I must do. Get you away : Yet be not far off ; I shall need your help : See that in the next room I have a fire, And get me a spit, and let it be red-hot.
Strana 151 - And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why should I grieve at my declining fall? — Farewell, fair queen; weep not for Mortimer, That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown.
Strana 578 - 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.
Strana 144 - Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court, And. that you lay for pleasure here a space, Not of compulsion or necessity.

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