The Dramatic Works of John Dryden, Band 8

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Paterson, 1882 - 1 Seiten
 

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Seite 58 - Love reckons hours for months, and days for years • And every little absence is an age.
Seite 443 - Her eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her shape, her features, Seem to be drawn by Love's own hand ; by Love, Himself in love...
Seite 503 - His onset was violent: those passages which while they stood single had passed with little notice, when they were accumulated and exposed together, excited horror; the wise and the pious caught the alarm, and the nation wondered why it had so long suffered irreligion and licentiousness to be openly taught at the public charge.
Seite 12 - The labouring bee, when his sharp sting is gone, Forgets his golden work, and turns a drone: Such is a satire, when you take away That rage, in which his noble vigour lay. What gain you by not suffering him to tease ye?
Seite 501 - Then our age was in its prime, Free from rage and free from crime, A very merry, dancing, drinking, Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time, [Dance of DIANA'S attendants.} Enter MAKS.
Seite 94 - FAIR Iris I love, and hourly I die, But not for a lip, nor a languishing eye: She's fickle and false, and there we agree, For I am as false and as fickle as she. We neither believe what either can say; And, neither believing, we neither betray.
Seite 503 - He was formed for a controvertist ; with sufficient learning ; with diction vehement and pointed, though often vulgar and incorrect : with unconquerable pertinacity ; with wit in the highest degree keen and sarcastick ; and with all those powers exalted and invigorated by just confidence in his cause.
Seite 497 - His Majesty then got up and would dance with the Queen of Sheba, but he fell down and humbled himself before her and was carried to an inner chamber and laid on a bed of state, which was not a little defiled with the presents of the Queen which had been bestowed on his garments, such as wine, cream, jelly, beverage, cakes, spices, and other good matters.
Seite 502 - Venus. Calms appear when storms are past; Love will have his hour at last: Nature is my kindly care; Mars destroys, and I repair; Take me, take me, while you may, Venus comes not every day.
Seite 506 - The poets, who must live by courts, or starve, Were proud so good a government to serve ; And, mixing with buffoons and pimps profane, Tainted the stage for some small snip of gain.

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