The Old English Dramatists
Houghton, Mifflin, 1892 - 132 頁
First edition?Prefatory note signed: Charles Eliot Norton. Six lectures delivered at the Lowell institute in Boston, 1887; appeared in Harper's magazine, from June to November, 1892. Introductory.--Marlowe.--Webster.--Chapman.--Beaumont and Fletcher.--Massinger and Ford.
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Arethusa Beaumont and Fletcher beauty Bellario Ben Jonson Brachiano Bussy d'Ambois called Chapman character Charles Lamb charm coarse comedies Contarino delight doth dramatic Dryden Duchess of Malfi fancy Faustus feel fine madness Flamineo fond genius gilt top give half calf hand hath Heaven hell Hero and Leander Homer honor humor Iliad imagination Jew of Malta Jolenta Jonson King Lady language Leonora less literature live Lucifer Marlowe Marlowe's Massinger Massinger's Mephistophilis mind nature never noble Old English Dramatists passage passion pathos perhaps Philaster Philip Massinger phrase play pleasure plot poem poet poetical poetry Romelio scene seems sense sentiment Shakespeare song Song of Roland soul speaking speech Spenser spirit stage style suppose sure sweet Tamburlaine tells theatre thee things thou thought tion tongue tragedy translation unto verse Vittoria Webster words wrote youth Zanche
第 15 頁 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life...
第 37 頁 - Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes ; If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit ; If these had made one poem's period, And all combined in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can...
第 130 頁 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
第 40 頁 - The reluctant pangs of abdicating royalty in Edward furnished hints, which Shakspeare scarcely improved in his Richard the Second ; and the death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted.
第 50 頁 - I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates; I'll have them read me strange philosophy And tell the secrets of all foreign kings...
第 75 頁 - Call for the robin-red-breast 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.
第 49 頁 - All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command : emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several provinces, Nor can they raise the wind or rend the clouds ; But his dominion that exceeds in this Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man, A sound magician is a mighty god : Here, Faustus, tire thy brains to gain a deity.
第 37 頁 - Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Wills us to wear ourselves, and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, That perfect bliss and sole felicity, The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
第 51 頁 - Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ, Yet will I call on him: O spare me, Lucifer! Where is it now? 'tis gone: And see where God Stretcheth out his arm and bends his ireful brows! Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God ! No, no.
第 105 頁 - Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then, let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man. But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join'd Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head So old and white as this.