The Plays of Philip Massinger ...

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G. and W. Nicol, 1805 - English drama

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Page 553 - For, though I do contemn report myself As a mere sound, I still will be so tender Of what concerns you, in all points of honour, That the immaculate whiteness of your fame, Nor your unquestioned integrity, Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot That may take from your innocence and candour.
Page 374 - Unblam'd through life, lamented in thy end. These are thy honours ! not that here thy bust Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust ; But that the Worthy and the Good shall say, Striking their pensive bosoms — Here lies GAY.
Page 587 - And do appear like Furies, with steel whips To scourge my ulcerous soul. Shall I then fall Ingloriously, and yield ? no ; spite of Fate I will be forced to hell like to myself. Though you were legions of accursed spirits, Thus would I fly among you. [Rushes forward. Well. There's no help ; Disarm him first, then bind him. Greedy. Take a mittimus, And carry him to Bedlam.
Page 502 - Twas I that gave him fashion ; mine the sword That did on all occasions second his ; I brought him on and off with honour, lady ; And when in all men's judgments he was sunk, And in his own hopes not to be buoy'd up,' I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand, t And set him upright, Furn.
Page 461 - Lovelace; but he has excelled his original in the moral effect of the fiction. Lothario, with gaiety which cannot be hated, and bravery which cannot be despised, retains too much of the spectator's kindness.
Page 541 - Over. My noble lord ; and how Does your lordship find her ? , * Lov. Apt, sir Giles, and coming; And I like her the better. Over. So do I too.
Page 509 - And therefore, I'll not have a chambermaid ; That ties her shoes, or any meaner office, But such whose fathers were right worshipful. 'Tis a rich man's pride ! there having ever been More than a feud, a strange antipathy, Between us and true gentry.
Page 471 - That I must die, it is my only comfort ; Death is the privilege of human nature, And life without it were not worth our taking : Thither the poor, the prisoner, and the mourner, Fly for relief, and lay their burthens down.
Page 566 - To me they are nothing : Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy. Suppose the worst, that, in his rage, he kill me ; A tear or two, by you dropt on my...
Page 464 - What, if, while all are here intent on revelling, I privately went forth and sought Lothario ? This letter may be forg'd ; perhaps the wantonness Of his vain youth to stain a lady's fame ; Perhaps his malice to disturb my friend. Oh ! no, my heart forebodes it must be true. Methought e'en now I mark'd the starts of guilt That shook her soul, tho...

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