Subjects on the World's Stage: Essays on British Literature of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance

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David G. Allen, Robert A. White
University of Delaware Press, 1995 - Literary Criticism - 319 pages
"In this collection eighteen scholars offer various readings on British literature of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Although the period covered ranges from the thirteenth through the seventeenth centuries, the essays are tied together by a common interest in one of three topics: poetic personae, dramatic production, and the influence of social context upon authors or dramatists. Common to these topics is the crucial point of contact between an artist and society that prompts the literary imagination to respond either with the creation of a new character or with the demonstration of change in an old one."--BOOK JACKET.Title Summary field provided by Blackwell North America, Inc. All Rights Reserved

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Contents

Preface
7
The Fyn of the Troilus
38
The Moral Landscape of The Pardoners Tale
54
Galathea and the Interplay of Voices in Skeltons Speke
88
Petrarchs
116
Culture and Myth in Dr Faustus
133
Text
146
Alls Well That Plays Well
162
Mistress Overdones House
181
Music Gender Power
217
An Unambiguous
248
Shakespeares
262
Court vs Country in the 1618 Masque
280
Cecilia Bulstrode The Court Pucell
295
List of Contributors
313
Copyright

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Page 226 - To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in' the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine : Then, up he rose, and donn'd his clothes, And dupp'd the chamber door ; Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more.
Page 155 - 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 deprived of everlasting bliss ? O Faustus!
Page 138 - 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 260 - Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. Lady M. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since, And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou...
Page 266 - How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him for he is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Page 138 - I'll have them fill the public schools with silk, Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad; I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring, And chase the Prince of Parma from our land, And reign sole king of all the provinces; Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp's bridge, I'll make my servile spirits to invent.
Page 143 - Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place ; for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be...
Page 219 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins: Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we...
Page 260 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels trumpet-tongu'd against The deep damnation of his taking-off ; And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow, the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.

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