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Remarks on Three Plays of Benjamin Jonson: Viz. Volpone, Or the Fox ...
Sin vista previa disponible - 2009
Act Act alludes allusion Antium Aristophanes Bacchides beetle bestia Cæsar called Catiline Catullus character Cicero citterne Corvino dormire putemus dressing drest eares enim erit expression eyes face fame fertque fool graffe-hoppers Greek hath Hence humour i'th Ibid illa imitated inquis Jonson Juvenal kind L. I. Ep Lady Vanity learned comedian Lollia Paulina mala manner Mary Ambree mentioned Mosc Mosca motley fool mountebank Ophion Ovid paflage paranda passage Pist Plautus play poem poet Poetaster printed PROLOGUE Pythagoras quarrell quid quillets quod quoque racters reader ridicule Satyre says Sejanus semper Shakespeare signifies Silent Woman speaks Spencer strain'd action Subt Surl thee thing thou tibi tother youth translates unto verse Vice vide Volp Volpone Volturtius Watchterus word write
Página 94 - Good morrow, fool, quoth I : No, sir, quoth he, Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune : And then he drew a dial from his poke ; And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock : Thus we may see...
Página 114 - Among the heathen of their purchase got, And fabled how the serpent, whom they call'd Ophion with Eurynome, the wide...
Página 45 - And wear, and lose them: yet remains an ear-ring To purchase them again, and this whole state. A gem but worth a private patrimony, Is nothing: we will...
Página 41 - Be able to discourse, to write, to paint, But principal, as Plato holds, your music, And so does wise Pythagoras, I take it, Is your true rapture : when there is concent ' In face, in voice, and clothes : and is, indeed, Our sex's chiefest ornament.
Página 4 - Good morning to the day; and next, my gold: Open the shrine, that I may see my saint.
Página 27 - Not without; Those blows were nothing : I could bear them ever. But angry Cupid,* bolting from her eyes, Hath shot himself into me like a flame; Where, now, he flings about his burning heat, As in a furnace an ambitious fire, Whose vent is stopt. The fight is all within me. I cannot live, except thou help me, Mosca; My liver melts, and I, without the hope Of some soft air, from her refreshing breath, Am but a heap of cinders.
Página 23 - tis the common fable. The dwarf, the fool, the eunuch, are all his; He's the true father of his family. In all, save me: — but he has given them nothing.
Página 10 - Euphorbus, who was killed in good fashion, At the siege of old Troy, by the cuckold of Sparta.
Página 95 - Slid, I cannot choose but laugh to see myself translated thus, from a poor creature to a creator; for now must I create an intolerable sort of lies, or my present profession loses the grace: and yet the lie, to a man of my coat, is as ominous a fruit as the fico.