The Works of His Grace George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham: Containing His Plays and Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, with Explanatory Notes and Memoirs of the Author ...

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الصفحة 85 - Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing Worthy your noble thoughts ! 'tis not a life, 'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.
الصفحة 29 - tis so; and when time is full, That thou hast well discharged this heavy trust, Laid on so weak a one, I will again With joy receive thee ; as I live, I will ! Nay...
الصفحة 75 - Madam, who did it ? Are. Some dishonest wretch ; Alas ! I know him not, and do forgive him. Coun. He's hurt too; he cannot go far ; I made my father's old fox fly about his ears.
الصفحة 235 - ... time make it good in law; I have heard, indeed, that two negatives make an affirmative ; but I never heard before that two nothings ever made anything.
الصفحة 16 - DION. See, how his fancy labours ! Has he not Spoke home and bravely? What a dangerous train Did he give fire to ! How he shook the King, , Made his soul melt within him, and his blood Run into whey ! It stood upon his brow Like a cold winter-dew.
الصفحة 24 - I ask'd him all his story ; He told me that his parents gentle died, Leaving him to the mercy 'of the fields, Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs, Which did not stop their courses; and the sun, Which still, he...
الصفحة 29 - I am gone. But since I am to part with you, my lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do...
الصفحة 58 - Now you may take that little right I have To this poor kingdom : give it to your joy ; For I have no joy in it. Some far place, Where never womankind durst set her foot For...
الصفحة 42 - Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man That utters this, and I will scale them all, And from the utmost top fall on his neck, Like thunder from a cloud. DION. This is most strange: Sure, he does love her. PHI. I do love fair truth. She is my mistress, and who injures her Draws vengeance from me. Sirs, let go my arms.
الصفحة 81 - Tis not the treasure of all kings in one, The wealth of Tagus, nor the rocks of pearl That pave the court of Neptune, can weigh down That virtue. It was I that hurt the princess. Place me, some god, upon a pyramis* Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence I may discourse to all the under-world The worth that dwells in him ! PHA.

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