Specimens of English dramatic poets, who lived about the time of Shakspeare: with notes by C. Lamb

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Charles Lamb
1808 - Всего страниц: 484
 

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Стр. 231 - Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm : But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again.
Стр. 36 - And then thou must be damn'd perpetually! Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of Heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again and make Perpetual day; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul!
Стр. 38 - Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone : regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits To practise more than heavenly power permits.
Стр. 371 - Here be grapes, whose lusty blood Is the learned poet's good, Sweeter yet did never crown The head of Bacchus ; nuts more brown Than the squirrel's teeth that crack them...
Стр. 24 - I might ! but heavens and earth conspire To make me miserable ! Here receive my crown ; Receive it ? no, these innocent hands of mine Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime.
Стр. 205 - And I did vow never to part with it But to my second husband. Ant. You have parted with it now. Duch. Yes, to help your eye-sight. Ant. You have made me stark blind. Duch. How? Ant. There is a saucy and ambitious devil Is dancing in this circle.
Стр. 354 - And thou shalt find her honourable, boy ! Full of regard unto thy tender youth, For thine own modesty ; and for my sake, Apter to give, than thou wilt be to ask, ay ! or deserve. Bell. Sir ! you did take me up when I was nothing, And only yet am something by being yours...
Стр. 35 - Ah, my God, I would weep, but the Devil draws in my tears. Gush forth blood instead of tears ! Yea, life and soul ! Oh, he stays my tongue ! I would lift up my hands, but see, they hold them, they hold them ! All.
Стр. 214 - Come, violent death, Serve for mandragora, to make me sleep: Go, tell my brothers, when I am laid out, They then may feed in quiet.
Стр. 36 - Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of Heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again and make Perpetual day; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul! O lente, lente, currite noctis equi!

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