A History of English Dramatic Literature to the Death of Queen Anne, Band 1

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Macmillan and Company, limited, 1899 - 1940 Seiten
 

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Seite 289 - If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend...
Seite 567 - Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes.
Seite 318 - Marlowe, bathed in the Thespian springs, Had in him those brave translunary things That the first poets had ; his raptures were All air and fire, which made his verses clear ; For that fine madness still he did retain Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.
Seite 279 - Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied : for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
Seite 492 - I am as sorry as if the original fault had been my fault, because myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excellent in the quality he professes: besides, divers of worship have reported his uprightness of dealing which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that approves his art.
Seite 425 - Come, come, the bells do cry, I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Wit with his wantonness Tasteth death's bitterness : Hell's executioner Hath no ears for to hear What vain art can reply: I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us!
Seite 492 - With neither of them that take offence was I acquainted, and with one of them I care not if I never be...
Seite 424 - Beauty is but a flower, Which wrinkles will devour: Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath closed Helen's eye; I am sick, I must die. Lord have mercy on us!
Seite 211 - A tragi-comedy is not so called in respect of mirth and killing, but in respect it wants deaths, which is enough to make it no tragedy, yet brings some near to it, which is enough to make it no comedy...
Seite 326 - FROM jigging veins of rhyming mother-wits, And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of war, Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine Threatening the world with high astounding terms, And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword.

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