The Works of Thomas Middleton, Now First Collected: Some account of Middleton and his works. The old law, by P. Massinger, T. Middleton and W. Rowley. Mayor of Queenborough. Blurt, master-constable. The phœnix. Michaelmas termE. Lumley, 1840 |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 52.
Strana 414
... QUOMODO , a woollen - draper . SHORTYARD , his attendants . FALSELIGHT , SIM , Son to QUOMODO . ANDREW LETHE , an adventurer , son to MOTHER GRUEL . HELLGILL , a pander . Father to the Country Wench . Judge . DUSTBOX , a scrivener ...
... QUOMODO , a woollen - draper . SHORTYARD , his attendants . FALSELIGHT , SIM , Son to QUOMODO . ANDREW LETHE , an adventurer , son to MOTHER GRUEL . HELLGILL , a pander . Father to the Country Wench . Judge . DUSTBOX , a scrivener ...
Strana 420
... Quomodo's The rich draper's daughter and yourself ? REAR . Faith , sir , I am vildlyi rivall'd . Cock . Vildly ? by whom ? REAR . One Andrew Lethe , crept to a little warmth , And now so proud that he forgets all storms ; One that ne'er ...
... Quomodo's The rich draper's daughter and yourself ? REAR . Faith , sir , I am vildlyi rivall'd . Cock . Vildly ? by whom ? REAR . One Andrew Lethe , crept to a little warmth , And now so proud that he forgets all storms ; One that ne'er ...
Strana 421
... Quomodo ! COCK . How then ? afraid of a woollen - draper ! REAR . He warned me his house , and I hate he should see me abroad . [ They all retire . Enter QUOMODO , SHORTYARD , and FALSELIGHT . Quo . O my two spirits , Shortyard and ...
... Quomodo ! COCK . How then ? afraid of a woollen - draper ! REAR . He warned me his house , and I hate he should see me abroad . [ They all retire . Enter QUOMODO , SHORTYARD , and FALSELIGHT . Quo . O my two spirits , Shortyard and ...
Strana 425
... Quomodo's daughter ; but he knows it not . SALE . Has spied us o'er his paper . REAR . O , that's a warning To make our duties ready . COCK . Salute him ? hang him ! REAR . Pooh , wish his health awhile ; he'll be laid shortly : Let him ...
... Quomodo's daughter ; but he knows it not . SALE . Has spied us o'er his paper . REAR . O , that's a warning To make our duties ready . COCK . Salute him ? hang him ! REAR . Pooh , wish his health awhile ; he'll be laid shortly : Let him ...
Strana 426
... Quomodo consents ; only my mistres W pains ] So ed . 1630. First ed . " payne . " Quomodo , her mother , without regard runs full against 426 MICHAELMAS TERM .
... Quomodo consents ; only my mistres W pains ] So ed . 1630. First ed . " payne . " Quomodo , her mother , without regard runs full against 426 MICHAELMAS TERM .
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The Works of Thomas Middleton, Now First Collected: Some account of ... Thomas Middleton Úplné zobrazenie - 1840 |
Časté výrazy a frázy
beseech BLURT captain CASTIZA CLEAN Cleanthes CONST COUN courtier CREON Curvetto death DOYT DUKE Enter EVAN Exeunt Exit eyes father FIDELIO follow FONT Fontinelle for't FRIS Frisco Game at Chess GENT gentleman give GNOTH grace GRAZ hath hear heart HENG HENGIST HIPPOLITO honour hope husband i'faith IMPERIA keep king of Kent knave KNIGHT lady Latronello Lethe live look lord marry master Blastfield master constable master Easy master Quomodo Middleton mistress ne'er never NIECE Old ed Old eds on't PHŒ pity play pray prithee PROD Queenborough Re-enter SCENE SECOND COURT shew Shortyard signior Simonides suit sweet thee there's Thomas Middleton thou troth twas twill unto VIOL VORT VORTIGER wench what's wife woman word worship
Populárne pasáže
Strana 187 - O, it is monstrous! monstrous! Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i" the ooze is bedded ; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded.
Strana xxxvii - Lastly, I would inform you, that this book, in all numbers, is not the same with that which was acted on the public stage ; wherein a second pen had good share...
Strana 71 - gainst a thief That comes to steal our goods, things all without us, That prove vexation often more than comfort, How mighty ought our providence to be To prevent those, if any such there were, That...
Strana 129 - Think, hath the world a folly like this madness ? Keep still that holy and immaculate fire, You chaste lamp of eternity ! 'tis a treasure Too precious for death's moment to partake, This twinkling of short life. Disdain as much To let mortality know you, as stars To kiss the pavements ; you've a substance as Excellent as theirs, holding your pureness : They look upon corruption, as you do, But are stars still ; be you a virgin too.
Strana 260 - Being deep in love, at lovers' broken sleeps : But say a golden slumber chance to tie With silken strings the cover of love's eye, Then dreams, magician-like, mocking present Pleasures, whose fading leaves more discontent.
Strana 73 - Leon. How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman ! It is so seldom heard, that, when it speaks, It ravishes all senses.
Strana xxxix - Excellent Bewmont, in the foremost ranke Of the rar'st wits, was never more than Franck. Mellifluous Shakespeare, whose enchanting quill Commanded mirth or passion, was but Will; And famous Johnson, though his learned pen Be dipt in Castaly, is still but Ben.
Strana 75 - Why, how should I believe this ? Look, he's merry, As if he had no such charge. One with that care Could never be so still ; he holds his temper, And 'tis the same still ; with no difference, He brought his father's corpse to the grave with. He laugh'd thus then, you know.
Strana 424 - O that sweet, neat, comely, proper, delicate, parcel of land ! like a fine gentlewoman i' th' waist, not so great as pretty, pretty ; the trees in summer ivhistling, the silver waters by the banks harmoniously gliding. I should have been a scholar; an excellent place for a student ; fit for my son that lately commenced at Cambridge, whom now I have placed at inns of court. Thus we that seldom get lands honestly, must leave our heirs to inherit our knavery : but, whist ; one turn about my shop, and...
Strana lxxiv - Whither, sir, I pray ? To the bleak air of storms, among those trees Which we had shelter from. Sim. Yes, from our growth, Our sap and livelihood, and from our fruit. What! 'tis not jubilee with thee yet, I think; Thou look'st so sad on't.