Dramatic Works of John Ford ...J. Murray, 1827 - Dramatists, English |
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Page 11
... poor panting island , if some shreds , Some useless remnant of the house of York Grudge not at this content . Orf . Margaret of Burgundy Blows fresh coals of division . Sur . Painted fires , Without or heat to scorch , or light to ...
... poor panting island , if some shreds , Some useless remnant of the house of York Grudge not at this content . Orf . Margaret of Burgundy Blows fresh coals of division . Sur . Painted fires , Without or heat to scorch , or light to ...
Page 19
... poor in thanks To pay the debt I owe you . Hunt . Nay , thou'rt poor enough.— I love his spirit infinitely . - Look ye , She comes : to her now , to her , to her ! Enter KATHERINE and JANE . Kath . The king commands your presence , sir ...
... poor in thanks To pay the debt I owe you . Hunt . Nay , thou'rt poor enough.— I love his spirit infinitely . - Look ye , She comes : to her now , to her , to her ! Enter KATHERINE and JANE . Kath . The king commands your presence , sir ...
Page 41
... , My lords of Oxford , Surrey , Dawbeney , all , Accept from a poor dying man a farewell . I was , as you are , once , great , and stood hopeful . Of many flourishing years ; but fate and time Have SCENE II . 41 PERKIN WARBECK .
... , My lords of Oxford , Surrey , Dawbeney , all , Accept from a poor dying man a farewell . I was , as you are , once , great , and stood hopeful . Of many flourishing years ; but fate and time Have SCENE II . 41 PERKIN WARBECK .
Page 47
... poor sot , or what you please To have me , so you will not stain your blood , Your own blood , royal sir , though mixt with mine , By marriage of this girl to a straggler ! — Take , take my head , sir ; whilst my tongue can wag , It ...
... poor sot , or what you please To have me , so you will not stain your blood , Your own blood , royal sir , though mixt with mine , By marriage of this girl to a straggler ! — Take , take my head , sir ; whilst my tongue can wag , It ...
Page 59
... poor souls ! let such as are escaped . Steal to the country back without pursuit : There's not a drop of blood spilt , but hath drawn As much of mine ; their swords could have wrought wonders On their king's part , who faintly were ...
... poor souls ! let such as are escaped . Steal to the country back without pursuit : There's not a drop of blood spilt , but hath drawn As much of mine ; their swords could have wrought wonders On their king's part , who faintly were ...
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Common terms and phrases
Adur Adurni amongst Amor Aurel Aurelio Auria beauty blood brave brother Cast Castamela Castanna Clarington court Dalyell dare Dawbeney dear doth ducats Earl Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair favour Flav folly Ford fortunes Frank Frion FUTELLI gentleman grace hath heart heaven honest honour hope humour Hunt Huntley husband Is't JOHN FORD Kath king lady Lady's Trial LAMBERT SIMNEL live Livio lord Lord Bacon Malfato never noble on't peace Perkin PERKIN WARBECK Piero pity pleasure pray prince prithee Raybright Romanello SCENE scorn Scotland scurvy Secco Sir William Stanley sister soul Spadone speak Spinella Sun's Darling sweet thee there's thine Thor Thorney thou art thou hast Troy Troylo truth twas unto Urswick WARBECK wife witch WITCH OF EDMONTON word
Popular passages
Page 466 - Cause I am poor, deform'd, and ignorant, And like a bow buckled and bent together By some more strong in mischiefs than myself; Must I for that be made a common sink For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run into...
Page 466 - ... filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run into ? Some call me Witch, And being ignorant of myself, they go About to teach me how to be one ; urging, That my bad tongue (by their bad usage made so) Forespeaks their cattle, doth bewitch their corn, Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse. This they enforce upon me ; and in part Make me to credit it ; and here comes one Of my chief adversaries.
Page 126 - We'll lead them on courageously ; I read A triumph over tyranny upon Their several foreheads. Faint not in the moment Of victory ! our ends, and Warwick's head, Innocent Warwick's head, (for we are prologue But to his tragedy) conclude the wonder Of Henry's fears ;7 and then the glorious race Of fourteen kings, Plantagenets, determines In this last issue male...
Page 93 - Duresme, a wise man, and one that could see through the present to the future, doubting as much before, had caused his castle of Norham to be strongly fortified, and furnished with all kind of munition : and had manned it likewise with a very great number of tall soldiers, more than for the proportion of the castle, reckoning rather upon a sharp assault, than a long siege. And...
Page 521 - Saw. I am dried up With cursing and with madness ; and have yet No blood to moisten these sweet lips of thine. Stand on thy hind-legs up. Kiss me, my Tommy ; And rub away some wrinkles on my brow. By making my old ribs to shrug for joy Of thy fine tricks.
Page 518 - A witch ! who is not ? Hold not that universal name in scorn, then. What are your painted things in princes' courts, Upon whose eyelids lust sits, blowing fires To burn men's souls in sensual hot desires, Upon whose naked paps a lecher's thought Acts sin in fouler shapes than can be wrought ? Just.
Page 91 - More loth to part with such a great example Of virtue than all other mere respects. But, sir, my last suit is, you will not force From me what you have given, — this chaste lady, Resolved on all extremes.
Page 485 - Adonis scarfed in modesties ; And still as wanton Cupid blows love-fires, Adonis quenches out unchaste desires ; And from these two I briefly do imply A perfect emblem of thy modesty. Then, prithee, dear, maintain no more dispute, For when thou speak'st, it's fit all tongues be mute.
Page 415 - CAST away care, he that loves sorrow Lengthens not a day, nor can buy to-morrow: Money is trash; and he that will spend it, Let him drink merrily, Fortune will send it.
Page 378 - Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu ! she cries, And still her woes at midnight rise. Brave prick-song ! Who is't now we hear ? None but the lark so shrill and clear ; Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings.