The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, 4. sējums

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60. lappuse - Or painfull to his slumbers ; easie, sweet, And as a purling stream, thou son of night, Pass by his troubled senses ; 'sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver Rain, Into this Prince gently, Oh gently slide, And kiss him into slumbers like a Bride.
291. lappuse - bears, On whose tops the Pinks that grow Are of those that April wears, But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those Ivy chains by thee.
74. lappuse - God of youth, let this day here Enter neither care nor fear. Boy. Bellona's seed, the glory of old Rome, Envy of conquer'd Nations, nobly come And to the fulness of your war-like noise Let your feet move, make up this hour of joys ; Come, come I say, range your fair Troop at large, And your high measure turn into a charge.
13. lappuse - the lusty Spring hath staid, Blushing red and purest white, Daintily to love invite, Every Woman, every Maid, Cherries kissing as they grow ; And inviting men to taste, Apples even ripe below, Winding gently to the waste
247. lappuse - cough and tissick, And is for all diseases Physick. Then let us swill boyes for our health, Who drinks well, loves the common-wealth. And he that will to bed go sober, Falls with the leaf still in
264. lappuse - thee ; And may sweet mercy when thy soul sighs for it, When under thy black mischiefs thy flesh trembles, When neither strength, nor youth, nor friends, nor gold Can stay one hour, when thy most wretched Conscience Wak'd from her dream of death, like fire shall melt thee, When all thy Mothers tears, thy Brothers wounds, Thy
48. lappuse - die, All leave our selves, it matters not where, when, Nor how, so we die well : and can that man that does so Need lamentation for him ? Children weep Because they have offended, or for fear ; Women for want of will, and anger ; is there In noble man, that truly feels both
73. lappuse - ever sung ; Stain'd with bloud of lusty Grapes, In a thousand lusty shapes ; Dance upon the Mazers brim, In the Crimson liquor swim : From thy plenteous hand divine, Let a River run with
314. lappuse - wench. Bel. Methinks the other, The home-spoken Gentlewoman, that desires to be fruitful, That treats of the full manage of the matter, For there lies all my aim ; that wench, methinks If I were but well set on ; for she is a fable, If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me
13. lappuse - sailing on the stream, To deceive the hopes of man, Love accounting but a dream, Doted on a silver Swan, Danae in a Brazen Tower, Where no love was, lov'da

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