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Page 420 - A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Page 109 - LIGHT. To murder you, my most gracious lord! Far is it from my heart to do you harm. The queen sent me to see how you were used, For she relents at this your misery: And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, To see a king in this most piteous state? K. EDW. Weep'st thou already? List awhile to me And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is, Or as Matrevis...
Page 139 - Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night!
Page 124 - 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.
Page 110 - And there, in mire and puddle, have I stood This ten days' space; and, lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum; They give me bread and water, being a king; So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd, And whether I have limbs or no I know not.
Page 38 - And ride in triumph through Persepolis!" Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles? Usumcasane and Theridamas, Is it not passing brave to be a king, "And ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Page 201 - Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ, Yet will I call on him: O spare me, Lucifer!
Page 90 - 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 them celestial sun ; Let never silent night possess this clime : Stand still you watches...
Page 42 - 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.