Tamburlaine the Great: Who, from the State of a Shepherd in Scythia, by His Rare and Wonderful Conquests, Became a Most Puissant and Mighty Monarch

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Yale University Press, 1919 - 65 Seiten
 

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Seite 21 - Nature that fram'd us of four elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds.
Seite 23 - Only dispos'd to martial stratagems ? Who, when he shall embrace you in his arms, Will tell how many thousand men he slew ; And, when you look for amorous discourse, Will rattle forth his facts of war and blood, Too harsh a subject for your dainty ears. Zeno. As looks the sun through Nilus...
Seite 47 - All dazzled with the hellish mists of death. Now walk the angels on the walls of heaven, As sentinels to warn th...
Seite 57 - Than you by this unconquered arm of mine. To make you fierce, and fit my appetite, You shall be fed with flesh as raw as blood, And drink in pails the strongest muscadel ; If you can live with it, then live, and draw My chariot swifter than the racking ' clouds ; If not, then die like beasts, and fit for naught But perches for the black and fatal ravens.
Seite 7 - Go, stout Theridamas; thy words are swords, And with thy looks thou conquerest all thy foes. I long to see thee back return from thence, That I may view these milk-white steeds of mine All loaden with the heads of killed men, ' , And, from their knees even to their hoofs below, Besmear'd with blood that makes a dainty show.
Seite 50 - Raise cavalieros higher than the clouds, And with the cannon break the frame of heaven; Batter the shining palace of the sun, And shiver all the starry firmament, For amorous Jove hath snatch'd my love from hence, Meaning to make her stately queen of heaven.
Seite 58 - Whose shining turrets shall dismay the heavens, And cast the fame of Ilion's tower to hell; Thorough the streets, with troops of conquered kings, I'll ride in golden armour like the sun; And in my helm a triple plume shall spring, Spangled with diamonds, dancing in the air, To note me emperor...
Seite 38 - Bajazeth ! O Turk ! O Emperor ! Give him his liquor? not I. Bring milk and fire, and my blood I bring him again.— Tear me in pieces— give me the sword with a ball of wildfire upon it.— Down with him ! Down with him !— Go to my child ! Away ! Away ! Away ! — Ah, save that infant ! save him, save him ! — 1, even I, speak to her.
Seite 61 - See where my slave, the ugly monster, Death, Shaking and quivering, pale and wan for fear, Stands aiming at me with his murdering dart, Who flies away at every glance I give, And, when I look away, comes stealing on.
Seite 24 - Sit here upon this royal chair of state, And on thy head wear my imperial crown, Until I bring this sturdy Tamburlaine And all his captains bound in captive chains. Zab. Such good success happen to Bajazethl Tomb. Zenocrate, the loveliest maid alive, Fairer than rocks of pearl and precious stone, The only paragon of Tamburlaine; Whose eyes are brighter than the lamps of heaven...

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