The Works of Mr. Thomas Otway: In Three Volumes, Band 3

T. Turner, 1813 - 62 Seiten

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Seite 245 - And as she lay upon the durtie ground, Her huge long taile her den all overspred, Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwound, Pointed with mortall sting.
Seite 241 - There in a gloomy hollow glen she found A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes In homely wize, and ,wald with sods around...
Seite 23 - Oh woman, lovely woman ! Nature made thee To temper man : we had been brutes without you ; Angels are painted fair, to look like you : There 's in you all that we believe of Heaven ; Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Seite 94 - Lead me into some place that's fit for mourning; Where the free air, light, and the cheerful sun May never enter. Hang it round with black; ;Set up one taper that may last a day — As long as I've to live; and there all leave me, Sparing no tears when you this tale relate, But bid all cruel fathers dread my fate.
Seite 45 - Flowed from a spring as noble, and a heart Fit to partake his troubles, as his love: Fetch, fetch that dagger back, the dreadful dower Thou gav'st last night in parting with me ; strike it Here to my heart; and as the blood flows from it Judge if it run not pure as Cato's daughter's.
Seite 86 - Then hear me, bounteous Heaven! Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head, Where everlasting sweets are always springing, With a continual giving hand: let peace, Honour, and safety, always hover round her: Feed her with plenty, let her eyes ne'er see A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning: Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest, Harmless as her own thoughts; and prop her virtue, To bear the loss of one that too much lov'd, And comfort her with patience in our parting.
Seite 26 - That's my wish too: For then, my Pierre, I might have cause with pleasure To play the hypocrite. Oh! how I could weep Over the dying dotard, and kiss him too, In hopes to smother him quite; then, when the time Was come to pay my sorrows at his funeral, For he has already made me heir to treasures, Would make me out-act a real...
Seite 69 - And swear thou hast not wronged me ? Whence these chains ? Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment ? Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one ? Jaff.
Seite 30 - Were there one wise or honest, I could kill him For herding with that nest of fools and knaves. By all my wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge Were to be had, and the brave story warms me.
Seite 32 - One might have thought you'd not have been behindhand. In what whore's lap have you been lolling? Give but an Englishman his whore and ease, Beef and a sea-coal fire, he's yours for ever.

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