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Abig Abigail arms Barabas bear blood body bring brother Christians comes command crown death earth Edward Emperor Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall Farewell father Faustus fear Fern fire follow Friar friends Gaveston give gold governor grace hand hast hath head hear heart Heaven hell highness honour hope hundred I'll Isab Itha Ithamore keep Kent king Knight leave Light live look lord madam majesty Malta Marlowe master mean Meph Mephistophiles mighty mind Mortimer never Persian Pilia play presently prince queen rest SCENE shalt slave soldiers soul speak Spenser spirit stand stay sweet sword Tamb Tamburlaine Techelles tell thee Ther Theridamas thou thoughts thousand town Turk turn unto villain walls Zenocrate
Seite 50 - 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 13 - The reluctant pangs of abdicating royalty in Edward furnished hints which Shakspeare scarcely improved in his Richard the Second; and the death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene ancient or modern with which I am acquainted.
Seite 178 - 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 9 - tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it.
Seite 84 - Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspir'd 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 combin'd in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest.
Seite 376 - Two kings in England cannot reign at once. But stay awhile, let me be king till night, That I may gaze upon this glittering crown; So shall my eyes receive their last content, My head, the latest honour due to it, And jointly both yield up their wished right. Continue ever thou celestial sun; Let never silent night possess this clime : Stand still you watches...
Seite 177 - Such is the subject of the Institute, And universal body of the law. This study fits a mercenary drudge, Who aims at nothing but external trash; Too servile and illiberal for me. When all is done, divinity is best: Jerome's Bible, Faustus; view it well. (Reads.) "Stipendium peccati mors est." Ha! "Stipendium," etc. The reward of sin is death: that's hard.
Seite 311 - And northward Gaveston hath many friends.— Adieu, my lord; and either change your mind, Or look to see the throne, where you should sit, To float in blood; and at thy wanton head, The glozing" head of thy base minion thrown.
Seite 218 - Ah, Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damn'd perpetually! Stand still, you ever-moving 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!
Seite 218 - Stand still, you ever-moving 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! The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.