The English Novel in the Time of ShakespeareT.F. Unwin, 1890 - 433 lappuses |
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adventures appeared Arbasto Arber's reprint Arcadia Ascham beast beauty Ben Jonson better Bevis of Hampton century court courtier dedicated Defoe Dekker delight described drama edition Elizabethan England English engraving Euphues euphuism example famous fancy fashion France French give Greene Greene's Guy of Warwick hath heroes Hôtel de Rambouillet Hubert Languet imitate Inigo Jones Isaac Oliver Italian Italy Jonson King knight ladies language Latin literature live London Lord lovers Lyly Lyly's Menaphon mind mistress Molière moral Nash Nash's never noble novel novelist Oroonoko Pandosto Paris passion Philautus Philip Sidney picaresque play poem poet popular portrait preface princes Princess prose published Queen readers Robert Greene scenes Scudéry seems Shakespeare shepherds Sidney's Sir Philip sort story style tale thee things Thomas Nash thou tion translated travels verse women words writing written wrote young
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162. lappuse - been beholding, shall (were ye in that case that I am now) be both at once of them forsaken ? Yes, trust them not, for there is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his 'Tigers heart wrapt in a -players hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a
177. lappuse - When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever ; when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : when you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that .you might ever do Nothing but that.
192. lappuse - Well, do not swear : although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say, It lightens.
193. lappuse - Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day : It was the nightingale, and not the lark. . . . —It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
208. lappuse - I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work : Od's my little life ! I think she means to tangle my eyes too :— No, "faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk-hair, Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream That can entame my spirits to your worship.
176. lappuse - Were I but twenty-one, Your father's image is so hit in you, His very air, that I should call you brother, As I did him; and speak of something wildly By us performed before. Most dearly welcome ! And you, fair princess, goddess !—O, alas, I lost a couple, that
225. lappuse - Loving in truth, and faine in verse my love to show, That She, dear She ! might take some pleasure of my paine : I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertaine ; Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
225. lappuse - Yet this much curse I must send you, in the behalfe of all Poets, that while you live, you live in love, and never get favour, for lacking skill of a sonnet : and when you die, your memory die from the earth, for want of an epitaph.
162. lappuse - fac totum, is in his owne conceit the onely shake-scene in a countrie. O that I might intreate your rare wits to be imployed in more profitable courses : and let those apes imitate your past excellence and never more acquaint them with your
217. lappuse - Alas ! I lie : rage hath this errour bred ; Love is not dead ; Love is not dead, but sleepeth In her unmatched mind, Where she his counsell keepeth, Till due desert she find. Therefore from so vile fancie, To call such wit a franzie, Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us