ElizabethansChapman and Hall Limited, 1924 - 226 pagina's |
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
A. H. Bullen admiration Antonius apothecary appeared beauty Ben Jonson Breton Bullein Bussy d'Ambois Cæsar Campion Chapman Charles Lamb comedy Daniel death Dekker delightful doctor doth Earl edition Eele Elizabeth Elizabethan age England English epistle Essex eyes famous Fulke Greville Greville's Hakewill hand hath haue heart heaven Henry Hero and Leander honour Jonson King Lady letter live London loue Marlowe masque matter Michael Drayton mistress Muses never Nicholas Breton night Oxford passages passion patient Philotas piece play poem poet poetry Poly-Olbion poor praise Prince prose published Queen rhyme Samuel Daniel says Shakespeare sing Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Sir Thomas Monson sk sk sk sleep songs sonnets sorrow soul spirit sweet tells thee Thomas Campion thou thought to-day Tocrub Tragedy verse vnto wife William words writing written wrote youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 179 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past : which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
Pagina 9 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part, — Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Pagina 103 - The man of life upright, Whose guiltless heart is free From all dishonest deeds, Or thought of vanity ; The man whose silent days In harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude Nor sorrow discontent : That man needs neither towers Nor armour for defence, Nor secret vaults to fly From thunder's violence : He only can behold With unaffrighted eyes The horrors of the deep And terrors of the skies. Thus scorning all the cares That fate or fortune brings, He makes the heaven his book, His wisdom...
Pagina 120 - When thou must home to shades of underground, And there arrived, a new admired guest, The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, White lope, blithe Helen, and the rest...
Pagina 9 - Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, — Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover ! THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT.
Pagina 16 - FAIR stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Pagina 84 - None was false to you. He said, He had loved her long ; She said, Love should have no wrong. Corydon would kiss her then ; She said, Maids must kiss no men Till they did for good and all ; Then she made the shepherd call All the heavens to witness truth Never loved a truer youth. Thus with many a pretty oath, Yea and nay, and faith and troth, Such as silly shepherds use When they will not Love abuse, Love, which had been long deluded, Was with kisses sweet concluded ; And Phillida, with garlands...
Pagina 16 - Crispin's day Fought was this noble fray Which fame did not delay To England to carry: O when shall English men With such acts fill a pen, Or England breed again Such a King Harry!
Pagina 25 - When yet th' unborn shall say, Lo where she lies, Whose beauty made him speak that else was dumb. These are the arks, the trophies I erect, That fortify thy name against old age; And these thy sacred virtues must protect Against the dark and time's consuming rage. Though th' error of my youth in them appear, Suffice, they show I lived and loved thee dear.
Pagina 79 - LULLABY. Come little babe, come silly soul, Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief, Born as I doubt to all our dole, And to thyself unhappy chief : Sing lullaby and lap it warm, Poor soul that thinks no creature harm. Thou little think'st and less dost know The cause of this thy mother's moan ; Thou want'st the wit to wail her woe, And I myself am all alone ; Why dost thou weep, why dost thou wail, And know'st not yet what thou dost ail?