Plays: Viz. The Orphan, and Venice Preserv'd

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Robert Urie, 1767 - Всего страниц: 280

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Стр. 154 - Ohy 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.
Стр. 153 - Lead me, lead me, my virgins! To that kind voice. My lord, my love, my refuge! Happy my eyes, when they behold thy face: My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating At sight of thee, and bound with sprightful joys.
Стр. 239 - Obedient to your will, kind to your wishes, Dear to your arms: by all the joys she gave you, When in her blooming years she was your treasure, Look kindly on me; in my face behold The lineaments of...
Стр. 154 - I'm dumb with the big thought; I swell and sigh, and labour with my longing. O lead me to some desert wide and wild, Barren as our misfortunes, where my soul May have its vent ; where I may tell aloud To the high Heavens and...
Стр. 156 - God, and watch thee till the morning. Jaff. Hear this, you Heavens, and wonder how you made her! Reign, reign, ye monarchs that divide the world, Busy rebellion ne'er will let you know Tranquillity and happiness like mine; Like gaudy ships, the obsequious billows fall And rise again, to lift you in your pride; They wait but for a storm and then devour you...
Стр. 147 - There's not a wretch that lives on common charity But's happier than me: for I have known The luscious sweets of plenty...
Стр. 187 - On what cold stone hast thou been stretched along, Gathering the grumbling winds about thy head, To mix with theirs the accents of thy woes ? Oh, now I find the cause my love forsakes me ! I am no longer fit to bear a share In his concernments : my weak female virtue Must not be trusted ; 'tis too frail and tender.
Стр. 256 - 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.
Стр. 226 - Burthensome to itself, a few years longer, To lose it, may be, at last in a lewd quarrel For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art ! No, this vile world and I have long been jangling, And cannot part on better terms than now, When only men like thee are fit to live in't.
Стр. 145 - 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.

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