The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, 第 8 卷

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第 393 頁 - The Ball / A / Comedy, / As it was presented by her / Majesties Servants, at the private / House in Drury Lane.
第 300 頁 - To preserve an honest name, And so to give it up to fame ; These are toys. In good or ill, They desire to have their will : Yet, when they have it, they abuse it, For they know not how to use it.
第 283 頁 - I do defie thee, and thy foot-cloth too, And tell thee to thy face, this prophane riding I feel it in my conscience, and I dare speak it, This un-edified ambling, hath brought a scourge upon us...
第 283 頁 - Follow the painted pipes of high pleasures, And with the wicked dance the devil's measures. Away, thou pamper'd JADE of vanity, Stand at the livery of lewd delights now, And eat the provender of prick-ear'd folly ! My dance shall be to the pipe of persecution.
第 285 頁 - tis unfit all these good fellows Should wait the cooling of your zealous porridge; Chuse whether you will dance, or have me execute; I'll clap your neck i'th' stocks, and there I'll make ye Dance a whole day, and dance with these at night too. You mend old shoes well, mend your old manners better, And suddenly see you leave off this sincereness, This new hot batch, borrowed from some brown baker, Some learned brother, or I'll so bait ye for 't, Take it quickly up.
第 283 頁 - tis most ridiculous : I find my wife's instructions now mere verities, My learned wife's ; she often hath pronounced to me My safety : " Bomby, defy these sports ; thou art damn'd else.
第 197 頁 - Oh envious light, fli, flic, begone, Come night, and piece two breasts as one ; When what love does, we will repeat in dreams. Yet (thy eyes open) who can day hence fright, Let but their Lids fall, and it will be night.
第 183 頁 - Don Spinster ! wear a petticoat still, and put on your smock a' Monday ; I will have a baby o' clouts made for it, like a great girl ;" — where " Quot-quean" is a corrupt form of
第 138 頁 - Of life appeared in her ; and thus thought dead, In her best habit, as the custom is (You know) in Malta, with all ceremonies She's buried in her family's monument, In the temple of St. John : I'll bring you thither, Thus, as you are disguised.
第 274 頁 - s made of that hair ; And, as he weaves himself for curious eyes, " Oh me, oh me, I 'm caught myself ! " he cries : Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep, Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep, Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice, To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes...

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