The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Band 1

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John C. Nimmo, 1885
 

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Seite 282 - Pythagoras' metempsychosis ! were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Unto some brutish beast ! all beasts are happy, For, when they die, Their souls are soon dissolved in elements ; But mine must live, still to be plagued in hell. Curst be the parents that engendered me ! No, Faustus : curse thyself : curse Lucifer That hath deprived thee of the joys of Heaven.
Seite 91 - If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes ; If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit ; If these had made one poem's period, And all combined in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least,...
Seite 45 - Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, That perfect bliss and sole felicity, The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
Seite 41 - And ride in triumph through Persepolis!" Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles? Usumcasane and Theridamas, Is it not passing brave to be a king, "And ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Seite 216 - Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate enterprise I will? I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates...
Seite lx - With neither of them that take offence was I acquainted, and with one of them I care not if I never be...
Seite 213 - Having commenc'd, be a divine in show, Yet level at the end of every art, And live and die in Aristotle's works. Sweet analytics, 'tis thou hast ravish'd me.
Seite 247 - Sloth. I am Sloth. I was begotten on a sunny bank, where I have lain ever since; and you have done me great injury to bring me from thence: let me be carried thither again by Gluttony and Lechery. I'll not speak another word for a king's ransom.
Seite 275 - His faith is great: I cannot touch his soul; But what I may afflict his body with I will attempt, which is but little worth.
Seite 282 - Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough That sometime grew within this learned man...

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