A History of Elizabethan Literature |
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40 cents appear beauty Ben Jonson better blank verse born called century certainly character charming chief comedy contemporaries Crashaw critics curious death decasyllable Dekker doth doubt drama dramatists Dryden Edited Elizabethan England English Classics Series English literature English poetry euphuism F. T. PALGRAVE fair famous fancy fashion Fletcher genius Gorboduc grace hath heart Herrick honour humour interesting John Jonson kind known language Latin least less literary living Lord Lycidas Lyly Macmillan's English Classics Maid's Tragedy Marlowe Martin Marprelate Massinger matter merit metre Milton never Noble Kinsmen Notes pamphlets Paradise Lost passages passion perhaps period person phrase pieces plays poems poet poetical poetry probably Queen reader satire seems Shakespere Shakespere's Sidney sometimes song sonnets Spenser stanza style sweet taste thee things thou thought tion Tottel's Miscellany tragedy translation verse W. W. SKEAT whole writers written
Popular passages
Page 122 - His golden locks time hath to silver turned ; O time too .swift, O swiftness never ceasing ! His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain ; youth waneth by increasing : Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen. Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. " His helmet now shall make a hive for bees, And lovers...
Page 110 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?
Page 126 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon, My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage ; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Page 368 - And teach her fair steps tread our Earth ; Till that divine Idea, take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine ; Meet you her, my wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.
Page 367 - Whoe'er she be, That not impossible she That shall command my heart and me; Where'er she lie, Locked up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny...
Page 75 - If all the pens that ever poets held 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...
Page 126 - Queen ; At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept, And from thenceforth those graces were not seen, For they this Queen attended ; in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse. Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed, And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce : Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief, And cursed the access of that celestial thief.
Page 115 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.