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abstract action actors affection appears audience Beaumont beautiful beginning called cause character characteristic close comedy comic Court death doth drama dramatic dramatist Duke early English evidence example exhibit expression eyes feeling Fletcher fortunes genius give hand hath heart Henry honour human humour idea imagination imitation interest John Jonson judgment kind King latter less light live look Lord manner Massinger means mind moral nature never object observation once passion person Plautus play plot poet poetical present Prince principle probably produced reason reflection represented romantic says scene seems sense Shakespeare situation Sonnets soul speak spectators spirit stage stand story style supposed taste theatre thee things thou thought tion tragedy true virtue whole wife woman written
Sida 131 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune,— often the surfeit of our own behaviour,— we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars : as if we were villains by necessity ; fools by' heavenly compulsion ; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance ; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence...
Sida 130 - Thou, nature, art my goddess ; to thy law My services are bound : Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom ; and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines Lag of a brother?
Sida 103 - I do despise my dream. Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace ; Leave gormandizing ; know the grave doth gape For thee thrice wider than for other men...
Sida 42 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Sida 133 - Lear. My wits begin to turn. — Come on, my boy : how dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow ? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. — Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That 's sorry yet for thee.
Sida 42 - tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new.
Sida 152 - That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month, Let me not think on't: Frailty, thy name is woman!
Sida 110 - No, sir," quoth he, "Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune." And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, "It is ten o'clock. Thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags.