The Spanish tragedy [by Thomas Kyd] The love of King David and fair Bethsabe [by George Peele] Soliman and Perseda. The tragedy of Ferrex and Porrex [by Thomas Norton

Capa
Thomas Hawkins
Printed at the Clarendon-Press, for S. Leacroft, London, 1773
 

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Página 28 - Both well, and ill : it makes me glad and sad : Glad, that I know the hinderer of my love, Sad, that I fear she hates me whom I love. Glad, that I know on whom to be reveng'd, Sad, that she'll fly me if I take revenge.
Página 31 - But such a war as breaks no bond of peace. Speak thou fair words, I'll cross them with fair words; Send thou sweet looks, I'll meet them with sweet looks; Write loving lines, I'll answer loving lines; Give me a kiss, I'll countercheck thy kiss: Be this our warring peace, or peaceful war.
Página 84 - I am never better than when I am mad: then methinks I am a brave fellow; then I do wonders : but reason abuseth me, and there's the torment, there's the hell.
Página 80 - She should have shone : search thou the book ! Had the moon shone in my boy's face, there was a kind...
Página 128 - Now comes my Lover tripping like the Roe, And brings my longings tangled in her hair. To joy her love I'll build a kingly bower. Seated in hearing of a hundred streams...
Página 72 - What is there yet in a son? He must be fed, be taught to go, and speak. Ay, or yet? Why might not a man love a calf as well? Or melt in passion o'er a frisking kid, as for a son?
Página 18 - Which paunch'd his horse, and ding'd him to the ground. Then young Don Balthazar with ruthless rage, Taking advantage of his foe's distress, Did finish what his halberdiers begun, And left not, till Andrea's life was done.
Página 86 - There is not any advocate in Spain That can prevail, or will take half the pain That he will, in pursuit of equity.
Página 116 - My guiltless son was by Lorenzo slain, And by Lorenzo and that Balthazar Am I at last revenged thoroughly, Upon whose souls may heavens be yet avenged With greater far than these afflictions.
Página 117 - twas so — 'twas I that killed him ; Look you — this same hand was it that stabb'd His heart — do you see this hand ? For one Horatio, if you ever knew him — A youth, one that they hang'd up in his father's garden — One that did force your valiant son to yield,"] &Q.

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