specimens of english dramatic poets, who lives about the time of shakepeare with notes

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Seite 26 - And there, in mire and puddle have I stood This ten days' space ; and lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum. They give me bread and water, being a king ; So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd, And whether I have limbs or no, I know not.
Seite 27 - Edw. 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.
Seite 36 - ... 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!
Seite 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...
Seite 163 - They are foul anomalies, of whom we know not whence they are sprung, nor whether they have beginning or ending. As they are without human passions, so they seem to be without human relations. They come with thunder and lightning, and vanish to airy music. This is all we know of them. Except Hecate, they have no names, which heightens their mysteriousness.
Seite 162 - Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray, Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may! Titty, Tiffin, Keep it stiff in; Firedrake, Puckey, Make it lucky; Liard, Robin, You must bob in. Round, around, around, about, about! All ill come running in, all good keep out!
Seite 113 - When no breath troubles them. Believe me, boy, Care seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes, And builds himself caves, to abide in them.
Seite 104 - Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear; Say I died true: My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth. Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth!
Seite 202 - 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...
Seite 64 - tis the soul of peace : Of all the virtues, 'tis nearest kin to heaven ; It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him, was a sufferer; A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit : The first true gentleman, that ever breathed.

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