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according Anatomy of Melancholy Anon anonymously appears appointed Arte asked authorship believe biographers birth Bompas born called Cipher Story close course Court critic death December desire died direct doubt Dudley Earl Earl of Essex early Edward Elizabeth Elizabethan England English Essays Essex evidence facts favour folio Francis Bacon further give given Greene Greene's Grosart Henry House Ireland Italy January John King known Lady later Leicester letters literary living London Lord Marlowe marriage married matter nature Nicholas Notes Peele period persons Philip Plays poems poet Poetrie possible present Prince printed probably publication published Queen reason reference remarkable Robert Robert Greene Rosicrucians says secret sent Shakespeare Sidney Spenser statement style thing Thomas Tower true truth verse Walter wife wits writing written wrote
Page 2 - THE poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
Page 79 - Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Page 78 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's...
Page 76 - There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Page 2 - He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, He saw thro' his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will, An open scroll, Before him lay...
Page 50 - WRONG'D, yet not daring to expresse my paine, To you, great Lord, the causer of my care, In clowdie teares my case I thus complaine Unto your selfe, that onely privie are.
Page 61 - Again, the meanness of my estate doth somewhat move me: for though I cannot accuse myself, that I am either prodigal or slothful, yet my health is not to spend, nor my course to get.
Page 72 - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not.