Great English Plays: Twenty-three Masterpieces from the Mysteries to Sheridan (excluding Shakespeare) with Three Representative Plays of the Nineteenth Century

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Harold F. Rubinstein
Harper & Brothers, 1928 - English drama - 1136 pages

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1632
560

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Page 169 - O 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!
Page 681 - Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm, But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again.
Page 389 - 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.
Page 148 - Why this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think'st thou that I who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of Heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss? O Faustus! leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul.
Page 289 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed : Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art : They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Page 170 - O, no end is limited to damned souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or, why is this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Unto some brutish beast.
Page 144 - How am I glutted with conceit of this! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate enterprise I will? I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely délicates; I'll have them read me strange philosophy And tell the secrets of all foreign kings...
Page 172 - I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows; And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay. Sometime a lovely boy...
Page 401 - Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear; Say I died true: My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth. Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth!
Page 959 - Here, let one of my servants come up. (To him.) My positive directions were, that as I did not drink myself, they should make up for my deficiencies below. Hard. Then they had your orders for what they do!

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