Latest literary essays and addresses: Old English dramatists

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1892

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Pagina 199 - With the best gamesters : what things have we seen Done at the Mermaid; heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life...
Pagina 221 - 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, Which into words no virtue can...
Pagina 35 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require ; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire...
Pagina 235 - I'll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down? See, see where Christ's blood streams in the firmament! One drop would save my soul, half a drop, ah, my Christ!
Pagina 314 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart ? DOCTOR Therein the patient Must minister to himself.
Pagina 72 - But the Nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say...
Pagina 289 - Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then, let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man. But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head So old and white as this.
Pagina 224 - Yet Lamb was hardly extravagant in saying that " the death scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted.
Pagina 36 - It will easily be perceived that the only part of this sonnet which is of any value is the lines printed in italics; it is equally obvious that, except in the rhyme, and in the use of the single word "fruitless...
Pagina 151 - And put it to the foil : but you, O you, So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best.

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