Greene's Philomela. Greene's Arcadia. Southwell's The triumphs over death. Breton's Characters, and his Good and bad. Nash's Christ's tears over JerusalemFrom the private Press of Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, printed by T. Davison, 1815 |
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Página viii
... better to defer any new memoir of this eccentric writer , or any elaborate critique on his genius or his compositions , till more specimens of his pen shall be in the reader's hands . The present production is sufficient to rescue the ...
... better to defer any new memoir of this eccentric writer , or any elaborate critique on his genius or his compositions , till more specimens of his pen shall be in the reader's hands . The present production is sufficient to rescue the ...
Página 47
... better relief than a sweet relish of comforting melody ' . 66 Ah , ABSTEMIA , for so she now called her name , the more to disguise herself ; if music should be answerable to thy martyrdom , or the excellency of descant conformable to ...
... better relief than a sweet relish of comforting melody ' . 66 Ah , ABSTEMIA , for so she now called her name , the more to disguise herself ; if music should be answerable to thy martyrdom , or the excellency of descant conformable to ...
Página 50
... is she That with her lust wins infamy . If lusting love be so disgrac'd , Die before you live unchaste : For better die with honest fame , Than lead a wanton life with shame . As soon as PHILOMELA had ended her ditty , she 50.
... is she That with her lust wins infamy . If lusting love be so disgrac'd , Die before you live unchaste : For better die with honest fame , Than lead a wanton life with shame . As soon as PHILOMELA had ended her ditty , she 50.
Página 60
... himself than thus to linger out his days in despair . In this perplexed passion he gat himself into a thick grove , there the better to communicate in his melancholy , vowing , if he heard not of PHILOMELA in that city , to make 60.
... himself than thus to linger out his days in despair . In this perplexed passion he gat himself into a thick grove , there the better to communicate in his melancholy , vowing , if he heard not of PHILOMELA in that city , to make 60.
Página xvii
... better pens with the swelling bombast of bragging blank verse . Indeed it may be the ingrafted overflow of some kill - cow conceit , that overcloyeth their imagination with a more than drunken resolution , being not ex- temporal in the ...
... better pens with the swelling bombast of bragging blank verse . Indeed it may be the ingrafted overflow of some kill - cow conceit , that overcloyeth their imagination with a more than drunken resolution , being not ex- temporal in the ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Greene's Philomela. Greene's Arcadia. Southwell's The triumphs over death ... Sir Egerton Brydges Vista de fragmentos - 1815 |
Términos y frases comunes
ambition amongst Arcadia Atheists beauty began blood CARMELA Christ conceit conscience court daughter dead death delight DEMOCLES desire devil discontent disdain DORON doth Duke Duke of Milan Earl ears earth enemy eyes fair favour fear folly fortune fruit Gabriel Harvey gather Genoese gentleman glory God's grace grief hand hath hear heart heaven hell honour hope humour husband Jerusalem judgment king labour lady LAMEDON lest live London look Lord LUTESIO MELICERTUS MENAPHON mercy mind misery mistress nature never NICHOLAS BRETON passion patience PESANA PHILIPPO PHILOMELA PLEUSIDIPPUS poor praise pride Private Press quoth repentance revenge rich ROBERT GREENE ROBERT SOUTHWELL saith SAMELA SEPHESTIA shepherd shew sith sorrow soul spirit stones sweet sword tears Thessaly thine thing thou art thou hast thou shalt thou wouldst thought thyself vain-glory Venice Venus virtue wanton wherein wife words worthy
Pasajes populares
Página 4 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves.
Página 11 - There was a certain householder, which planted a vineyard, and hedged it round about, and digged a winepress in it, and built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen, and went into a far country: and when the time of the fruit drew near, he sent his servants to the husbandmen, that they might receive the fruits of it.
Página 8 - s grief enough for thee. Streaming tears that never stint, Like pearl-drops from a flint, Fell by course from his eyes, That one another's place supplies ; Thus he griev'd in every part, Tears of blood fell from his heart, When he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ; When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.
Página ix - Divines and dying men may talk of hell, But in my heart her several torments dwell.
Página 85 - BEFORE my face the picture hangs, That daily should put me in mind Of those cold names and bitter pangs, That shortly I am like to find : But yet, alas, full little I Do think hereon that I must die.
Página 19 - Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood, Burn like the mines of sulphur.
Página xvii - It is a common practice nowadays amongst a sort of shifting companions, that run through every art and thrive by none, to leave the trade of Noverint, whereto they were born, and busy themselves with the endeavors of art, that could scarcely latinize their neck-verse if they should have need; yet English Seneca read by candlelight yields many good sentences, as "Blood is a beggar...
Página 86 - I do use to wear, The knife wherewith I cut my meat, And eke that old and ancient chair Which is my only usual seat,— All these do tell me I must die, And yet my life amend not I. My ancestors are...
Página 86 - My ancestors are turn'd to clay, And many of my mates are gone ; My youngers daily drop away, And can I think to 'scape alone ? No, no, I know that I must die, And yet my life amend not I.
Página xvii - Blood is a beggar' and so forth; and if you entreat him fair in a frosty morning, he will afford you whole Hamlets, I should say handfuls, of tragical speeches.