Webster & Tourneur

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Vizetelly, 1888 - 432 páginas
 

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Página 111 - 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.
Página 209 - I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boy Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep. [CARIOLA is forced out by the Executioners.] Now what you please: What death? Bos. Strangling; here are your executioners. DUCH. I forgive them: The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o' th' lungs, Would do as much as they do.
Página 208 - Most ambitiously. Princes' images on their tombs do not lie. as they were wont, seeming to pray up to Heaven ; but with their hands under their cheeks, as if they died of the toothache ; they are not carved with their eyes fixed upon the stars ; but as their minds were wholly bent upon, the world, the selfsame •way they seem, to turn their faces.
Página 203 - But hold some two days' conference with the dead! From them I should learn somewhat, I am sure, I never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle ; I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow : Th' heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad.
Página 240 - These wretched eminent things Leave no more fame behind 'em, than should one Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow; As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts, Both form and matter. I have ever thought Nature doth nothing so great for great men As when she's pleas'd to make them lords of truth: Integrity of life is fame's best friend, Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end.
Página 204 - Like to your picture in the gallery, A deal of life in show, but none in practice; Or rather like some reverend monument Whose ruins are even pitied.
Página 149 - Are forc'd to express our violent passions In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path Of simple virtue, which was never made To seem the thing it is not.
Página iv - 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.
Página 232 - Come, I'll be out of this ague, For to live thus, is not indeed to live ; It is a mockery and abuse of life : I will not henceforth save myself hy halves ; Lose all, or nothing.
Página 207 - Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage ? Such is the soul in the body : this world is like her little turf of grass, and the heaven o'er our heads like her looking-glass, only gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison.

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