The Poetical Works of Sir Thomas Watt: With Memoir and Critical DissertationJames Nichol, 1858 - 211 pages |
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Page v
... Henry VII.'s death , Wyatt was nominated by the Countess of Richmond one of the council for manag- ing public affairs till the young king was of age ; and he con- b tinued under Henry VIII . to enjoy many marks of A ...
... Henry VII.'s death , Wyatt was nominated by the Countess of Richmond one of the council for manag- ing public affairs till the young king was of age ; and he con- b tinued under Henry VIII . to enjoy many marks of A ...
Page viii
... death . Our readers are all familiar with the character of the " Blue- beard among Monarchs ; " the wife - killing king , Henry VIII . , and with the tragic fate of ( if we may use the somewhat paradoxical term ) the " English Mary ...
... death . Our readers are all familiar with the character of the " Blue- beard among Monarchs ; " the wife - killing king , Henry VIII . , and with the tragic fate of ( if we may use the somewhat paradoxical term ) the " English Mary ...
Page x
... death by twenty - six judges . The sentence was executed on the the 19th May . She died with great firmness and dignity , sending a message to request forgiveness from the Princess Mary , the daughter of Catharine , for the injuries she ...
... death by twenty - six judges . The sentence was executed on the the 19th May . She died with great firmness and dignity , sending a message to request forgiveness from the Princess Mary , the daughter of Catharine , for the injuries she ...
Page xiii
... Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt : " - " Divers thy death , so diversely bemoan Some that in presence of thy livelihed * Lurked , whose breasts envy with hate had swollen , Yield Cæsar's tears upon Pompeius ' head . Some that watched with the ...
... Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt : " - " Divers thy death , so diversely bemoan Some that in presence of thy livelihed * Lurked , whose breasts envy with hate had swollen , Yield Cæsar's tears upon Pompeius ' head . Some that watched with the ...
Page xxxv
... death , that is ordained for wretched thieves . Be- sides this ; put , that I were the naughtiest rank traitor that ever the ground bare ; doth any man think that I were so foolish , so void of wit , that I would have told Bonner and ...
... death , that is ordained for wretched thieves . Be- sides this ; put , that I were the naughtiest rank traitor that ever the ground bare ; doth any man think that I were so foolish , so void of wit , that I would have told Bonner and ...
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Common terms and phrases
ABUSED LOVER accuse afore ambassador Anne Boleyn assign'd Bishop of London Bishop of Rome blame cause chance chere Complaint cruel cruelty deadly dear death deed desert desire despair disdain dread Earl of Essex evermore eyes faith Farewell fault favour fear feign fire fleeth forsake Fortune grace grief hand hath hear heart heaven hope King King's Majesty Lady LADY'S liberty live Lord love for love LOVER COMPLAINETH LOVER PRAYETH lust Lute Mason mayst mercy mind MISTRESS moan never nought offence pain Patience PENITENTIAL PSALMS perdie pity plain pleasant Pole redress rejoice say nay seek serve sighs SIR THOMAS WYATT smart song sore sorrow Spain steadfast stony heart suffer sure tears thee thine thing thou hast thought thyself traitor treason true trust truth unkind unto vaileth wealth weens Whereby whereof withouten woful words wretched Wyatt ye know ye list YIELDEN
Popular passages
Page 27 - That sometime they have put themselves in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking with a continual change. Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise Twenty times better; but once...
Page 27 - Dear heart, how like you this ? ' It was no dream ; for I lay broad awaking : But all is turned, thorough my gentleness, Into a strange fashion of forsaking ; And I have leave to go of her goodness, And she also to use new-fangleness : But since that I so kindly am served, I would fain know what she hath deserved.
Page 25 - Now cease, my lute, this is the last 'Labour, that thou and I shall waste ; And ended is that we begun : Now is this song both sung and past ; My lute, be still, for I have done.
Page 24 - My lute, awake, perform the last Labour, that thou and I shall waste; And end that I have now begun : And when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done. As to be heard where ear is none; As lead to grave in marble stone; My song may pierce her heart as soon.
Page 176 - This maketh me at home to hunt and hawk. And in foul weather at my book to sit, In frost and snow then with my bow to stalk: No man doth mark whereso I ride or go, In lusty leas at liberty I walk, And of these news I feel nor weal nor woe, Save that a clog doth hang yet at my heel.
Page 90 - To sing to them that heareth me; Then though my songs be somewhat plain, And toucheth some that use to feign, Blame not my Lute! My Lute and strings may not deny, But as I strike they must obey: Break not them then so wrongfully, But wreak thyself some other way; And though the songs which I indite Do quit thy change with rightful spite, Blame not my Lute!
Page 24 - And when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done. As to be heard where ear is none, As lead to grave in marble stone, My Song may pierce her heart as soon. Should we then sigh, or sing, or moan? No, no, my lute, for I have done.
Page 130 - Was never bird tangled in lime That brake away in better time, Than I, that rotten boughs did climb, And had no hurt but scaped free. Now ha ! ha ! ha ! full well is me, For I am now at liberty.
Page 27 - Therewith all sweetly did me kiss, And softly said, 'Dear heart, how like you this?
Page 89 - BLAME not my Lute ! for he must sound Of this or that as liketh me ; For lack of wit the Lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me ; Though my songs be somewhat strange, And speak such words as touch thy change, Blame not my Lute ! My Lute ! alas ! doth not offend, Though that perforce he must agree To sound such tunes as I intend, To sing to them that heareth me ; Then though my songs be somewhat plain, And toucheth some that use to feign, Blame not my Lute...