The Plays of Christopher Marlowe

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J. M. Dent & Company, 1910 - 488 pages

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Page 154 - Was this the face that launched a thousand ships? And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss: Her lips suck forth my soul, see where it flies! Come Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
Page 293 - And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why should I grieve at my declining fall? — Farewell, fair queen; weep not for Mortimer, That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown.
Page 434 - THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE COME live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
Page 50 - If all the pens that ever poets held 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...
Page 23 - Nature that fram'd us of four elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds.
Page 158 - O, it strikes, it strikes ! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. [ Thunder and lightning. O soul, be changed into little water-drops, And fall into the ocean — ne'er be found.
Page 158 - Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone : regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits To practise more than heavenly power permits.
Page 177 - Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, Vex'd and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians.
Page 122 - Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. O what a world of profit and delight, Of power, of honour, of omnipotence Is promised to the studious artisan...
Page 434 - The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.

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