The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher: The maid's tragedy; Philaster; A king and no king; The scornful lady; Custom of the country; The elder brother; The Spanish curate; Wit without money; The beggars' bush; The humurous
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Page xxxi - Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff : you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
Page 34 - Of having you ; and, understanding well That when I made discovery of my sex I could not stay with you, I made a vow, By all the most religious things a maid Could call together, never to be known, Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes, For other than I seemed, that I might ever Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount, Where first you took me up.
Page xxxvii - Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story. He told me that his parents gentle died, Leaving him to the mercy of the fields, Which gave him roots, and of the crystal springs, Which did not stop their courses, and the sun, Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light.
Page lxv - Do my face (If thou had'st ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me look Like Sorrow's monument ; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leafless ; let the rocks Groan with continual surges ; and behind me, Make all a desolation.
Page 21 - He walks still ; and the face you let him wear When he was innocent is still the same, Not blasted! Is this justice? Do you mean To intrap mortality, that you allow Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now Think he is guilty.
Page 34 - Then sat I by the fount, Where first you took me up. King. Search out a match Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt, And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself Wilt well deserve him. Bel. Never, sir, will I Marry; it is a thing within my vow...
Page xxx - Their plots were generally more regular than Shakespeare's, especially those which were made before Beaumont's death ; and they understood and imitated the conversation of gentlemen much better ; whose wild debaucheries, and quickness of wit in repartees, no poet can ever paint as they have done.
Page lxii - twixt your love and you ! but, if there do, Inquire of me, and I will guide your moan ; Teach you an artificial way to grieve, To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord No worse than I : but, if you love so well, Alas, you may displease him ! so did I. This is the last time you shall look on me. — Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead, Come all and watch one night about my hearse ; Bring each a mournful story and a tear, To offer at it when I go to earth...