John Webster & the Elizabethan Drama

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Sidgwick & Jackson, 1916 - 276 من الصفحات

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مقاطع مشهورة

الصفحة 119 - I'll tell thee a miracle ; I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow. The heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad.
الصفحة 196 - Bastard without a father to acknowledge it ; true it is that my plays are not exposed to the world in volumes, to bear the title of works (as others *) : one reason is, that many of them by shifting and change of companies, have been negligently lost. Others of them are still retained in the hands of some actors, who think it against their peculiar profit to have them come in print, and a third that it never was any great ambition in me to be in this kind voluminously read.
الصفحة 271 - The White Devil, or, the Tragedy of Paulo Giordano Ursini, Duke of Brachiano, with the Life and Death of Vittoria Corombona, the famous Venetian Curtizan.
الصفحة 147 - I'll join with thee in a most just revenge: The weakest arm is strong enough that strikes With the sword of justice.
الصفحة 94 - Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall break. These are but feigned shadows of my evils. Terrify babes, my Lord, with painted devils; I am past such needless palsy. For your names Of whore and murdress, they proceed from you, As if a man should spit against the wind The filth returns in's face.
الصفحة 166 - ... and the story ends with the pious exclamation, " from which devill and all other devills defend us, good Lord ! Amen." We have spoken of the collections of tales, which, at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries...
الصفحة 95 - Come, come, you have wronged her : What a strange credulous man were you, my lord, To think the Duke of Florence would love her ! 'Will any mercer take another's ware When once 'tis...
الصفحة 105 - With what a compell'd face a woman sits While she is drawing ! I have noted divers Either to feign smiles, or suck in the lips, To have a little mouth ; ruffle the cheeks, To have the dimple seen ; and so disorder The face with affectation, at next sitting It has not been the same : I have known others Have lost the entire fashion of their face In half an hour's sitting...
الصفحة 98 - Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows A fearful madness : I owe her much of pity.
الصفحة 102 - Ferd. Give me some wet hay, I am broken-winded. I do account this world but a dog-kennel: I will vault credit and affect high pleasures, Beyond death.

نبذة عن المؤلف (1916)

Rupert Brooke was a poet who took a patriotic, somewhat idealized, view of World War I. He was born in Rugby, where his father was headmaster of a house at the elite Rugby School. Blond, athletic, and intelligent, Brooke embodied the English stereotype of the golden youth. After he had studied at the Rugby School, Brooke went on to King's College, where he joined the Apostles, a venerable intellectual club, which counted Alfred Lord Tennyson among its earlier members. In 1911, Brooke published his first collection of poetry titled Poems. His verse moved from fashionably decadent to nearly Georgian, often with a quiet pastoralism that now seems conventional. Brooke joined the Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve in August 1914, served in Belgium, and was sent to Gallipoli with the Hood Battalion but died of blood poisoning en route in the Aegean. He is best remembered for his war sonnets, which idealize both combat and patriotic feelings in a way that other war poets would later react against sharply.

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