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Remarks on Three Plays of Benjamin Jonson: Viz. Volpone, Or the Fox ...
No preview available - 2009
Act II action alludes alluſion alteration authors beetle better bring brought CĂSAR called character comedian common corrected ears edition editor explained expreſſion eyes face fame firſt fool give given Greek head Hence himſelf Humour Ibid illa imitated Inſtead Jonson kind King known Lady learned look mankind manner meaning meaſure mentioned Mosc Mosca moſt muſt nature obſerves original Ovid paffage paſſage perſons PLAUTUS play poet pointed preſent printed proper quid quod quote reader REMARKS ridicule ſame ſays ſee ſeems SHAKESPEARE ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſpeaking ſtill ſuch tells thee theſe thing thoſe thou tranſlates true uſed verſe Vice Volp VOLPONE whole woman women write written
Page 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...
Page 114 - Among the heathen of their purchase got, And fabled how the serpent, whom they call'd Ophion with Eurynome, the wide...
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 4 - Good morning to the day; and next, my gold: Open the shrine, that I may see my saint.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 10 - Euphorbus, who was killed in good fashion, At the siege of old Troy, by the cuckold of Sparta.
Page 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.