Titus and Berenice: A Tragedy, Acted at the Duke's Theatre. With a Farce Called the Cheats of Scapin, 3. köide

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T. Turner, 1813 - 62 pages

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Page 27 - Upon himself; horror and doubt distract His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The Hell within him; for within him Hell He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell One step, no more than from himself, can fly By change of place...
Page 23 - Sure, all ill stories of thy sex are false. 0 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 heav'n — Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Page 15 - You stole her from me ; like a thief you stole her, At dead of night ! that cursed hour you chose To rifle me of all my heart held dear. May all your joys in her prove false, like mine ! A sterile fortune and a barren bed Attend you both : continual discord make Your days and nights bitter, and grievous still ! May the hard hand of a vexatious need Oppress and grind you ; till at last you find The curse of disobedience all your portion.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 70 - No ; thou shalt not force me from thee. Use me reproachfully, and like a slave ; Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs On my poor head ; I'll bear it all with patience, Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty : Lie at thy feet and kiss them, though they spurn me, Till, wounded by my sufferings, thou relent, And raise me to thy arms with dear forgiveness.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 19 - I'm ready. JAFF. I think no safety can be here for virtue, And grieve, my friend, as much as thou to live In such a wretched state as this of Venice, Where all agree to spoil the public good, And villains fatten with the brave man's labours.
Page 86 - And may no fatal minute ever part us, Till, reverend grown, for age and love, we go Down to one grave, as our last bed, together, There sleep in peace till an eternal morning. Jaff.

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