Anecdotes of Literature and Scarce Books, Volume 2F. C. & J. Rivington, 1807 |
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Pagina 3
... letter , of which the original edition was printed in 1598 ; and the second impression , from which the above was copied , in the Garrick Collection , is dated 1661 . SONG OF NIGHT . 1 . In wet and cloudy mists I slowly rise , As with ...
... letter , of which the original edition was printed in 1598 ; and the second impression , from which the above was copied , in the Garrick Collection , is dated 1661 . SONG OF NIGHT . 1 . In wet and cloudy mists I slowly rise , As with ...
Pagina 23
... letter . Written by R. W. 1592 . SONG . New broomes , greene broomes , will you buy any ; Come maidens , come quickly , let me take a penny . My broomes are not steeped But very well bound , My broomes be not crooked But smooth cut and ...
... letter . Written by R. W. 1592 . SONG . New broomes , greene broomes , will you buy any ; Come maidens , come quickly , let me take a penny . My broomes are not steeped But very well bound , My broomes be not crooked But smooth cut and ...
Pagina 30
... letter . 1600 . SONG . With amorous wiles and perjured eyes , False Damon did me move , Like charming winds his kindling sighs First fanned me into love ; My thriving passion he did feed Whilst it was young and slight ; But ah ! when ...
... letter . 1600 . SONG . With amorous wiles and perjured eyes , False Damon did me move , Like charming winds his kindling sighs First fanned me into love ; My thriving passion he did feed Whilst it was young and slight ; But ah ! when ...
Pagina 31
... the pitifull . Life is but short , & c . From a pleasant Enterlude , entitled Like will to Like , quoth the Devil to the Collier . black letter . 1587 . In SONG . SONG . Love for such a cherrie lip Would be OLD SONGS . 31.
... the pitifull . Life is but short , & c . From a pleasant Enterlude , entitled Like will to Like , quoth the Devil to the Collier . black letter . 1587 . In SONG . SONG . Love for such a cherrie lip Would be OLD SONGS . 31.
Pagina 46
... will any more sing it yourselfe . From a very merry and pythie Comedie , called " The longer thou livest the more Foole thou art , " by W. Wager . In black letter . No date . In another part of the same play , the Fool In 46 OLD SONGS .
... will any more sing it yourselfe . From a very merry and pythie Comedie , called " The longer thou livest the more Foole thou art , " by W. Wager . In black letter . No date . In another part of the same play , the Fool In 46 OLD SONGS .
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Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
agayne Anno Anno Domini Archbishop Hamilton Bible Bishop's Bible black letter British Museum called Church Yard copy curious dayes death delight discourse divers doth Duke of Roxburgh edition England English EPIG flie foole GABRIEL HARVEY Garrick collection Gent Gentlemen George GEORGE GASCOIGNE George Peele grace hath haue Henry History holy honorable Imprinted at London inscribed John King Lady late learned London Lord Maister Majesties mery MUSICKE mynde never night noble Octavo pittie pleasant Poem Poet pretie Printed Printer quĉ Queene quoth rare reader Robert Greene Rondeau Roxburgh collection Royal sayd Scotland shew sing singular sold SONG sonne specimen subjoin sundry sunne sweet Testament thee theyr thing Thomas Thomas Lodge thou thought thynges Tract translated tyme unto verses vertue vnto volume vpon wanton Wherein worthy writing written wyll yeres
Populaire passages
Pagina 128 - Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli est.
Pagina 363 - Yok'd with a slow-foot ox on fallow field, Can right areed how handsomely besets Dull spondees with the English dactylets. If Jove speak English in a thundring cloud, " Thwick thwack," and " riff raff," roars he out aloud. Fie on the forged mint that did create New coin of words never articulate.
Pagina 120 - 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?
Pagina 37 - Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may; And this is Love, as I hear say. Yet what is Love, good shepherd, show? , A thing that creeps, it cannot go, A prize that passeth to and fro, A thing for one, a thing for moe, And he that proves shall find it so; And shepherd, this is Love, I trow.
Pagina 79 - ... plains? Ah, sweet Content, where dost thou safely rest ? In heaven, with Angels which the praises sing Of Him that made and rules at his behest The minds and hearts of every living thing ? Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold ? Is it in churches with religious men Which please the gods with prayers manifold, And in their studies meditate it then ? Whether thou dost in heaven or earth appear, Be where thou wilt, thou wilt not harbour here.
Pagina 191 - WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. Mother's wag, pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy ; When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me, He was glad, I was woe, Fortune changed made him so, When he left his pretty boy Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Pagina 318 - Languages. With Arguments of Bookes and Chapters, Annotations and other necessarie Helpes for the better understanding of the Text, and specially for the Discoverie of the Corruptions of divers late Translations, and for cleering the Controversies in Religion of these Daies.
Pagina 122 - Even on the brink I hear him sing; If so I meditate alone, He will be partner of my moan; If so I mourn, he weeps with me, And where I am there will he be.
Pagina 121 - I'll make you fast it for your sin, I'll count your power not worth a pin, Alas ! what hereby shall I win, If he gainsay me? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou...
Pagina 121 - I'll count your power not worth a pin: Alas, what hereby shall I win, If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be, Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee; O Cupid, so thou pity me, Spare not, but play thee.