Early English Poetry, Ballads, and Popular Literature of the Middle Ages, Volume 6

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Page 61 - This is that sable stone, this is the cave And womb of earth, that doth his corpse embrace; While others sing his praise, let me engrave These bleeding numbers to adorn the place. Here will I paint the characters of woe; Here will I pay my tribute to the dead ; And here my faithful tears in showers shall flow To humanize the flints ou which I tread.
Page 35 - To fare so freely with so little cost, Than stake his twelvepence to a meaner host.
Page 37 - Rufus the courtier at the theatre, Leaving the best and most conspicuous place, Doth either to the stage himselfe transferre, Or through a grate doth shew his double face : For that the clamorous fry of Innes of Court Fills up the private roomes of greater price ; And such a place, where all may have resort, He in his singularity doth despise.
Page 55 - Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid ! He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not ; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
Page 55 - Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day With a religious book or friend — This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise or fear to fall: Lord of himself, though not of lands, And, having nothing, yet hath all.
Page 70 - ... thou great Power, in whom I move, For whom I live, to whom I die, Behold me through thy beams of love, Whilst on this couch of tears I lie ; And cleanse my sordid soul within, By thy Christ's blood, the bath of sin. No...
Page 19 - The begger blusheth scarlet red, And straight againe as pale as lead, But not a word at all she said, She was in such amaze. At last she spake with trembling voyce, And said, O King, I doe rejoyce That you wil take me for your choyce And my degree's so base.
Page 76 - For I must leave my fairest flower, My sweetest Rose, a space, And cross the seas to famous France, Proud rebelles to abase. But yet, my Rose, be sure thou shalt My coming shortlye see, And in my heart, when hence I am, He beare my Rose with mee.
Page 7 - Riots were his best delight, *) With stately feastings day and night ; In court and citty thus he won renowne. Thus wasting land and living By this lawlesse giving, At last he sold the pavements of his yard...
Page 79 - And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust To be my love's defence, Be careful of my gallant Rose When I am parted hence." And therewithal he fetched a sigh, As though his heart would break, And Rosamond, for very grief, Not one plain word could speak. And at their parting well they might, In heart be grieved sore, After that day fair Rosamond The king did see no more.

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