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Alken Angelo Ben Jonson Bias Bramble call'd captain Chamont Chris Clench Count F court Dame daughter doctor doth Earine Enter Exeunt Exit faith father Ferneze Flamen Gasper gentleman give gold hand hast hath hear high constable Hilts honour Hugh humour i'faith Ironside Jaques John Clay Jonson Juniper justice Karol Keep Kentish Town king lady Tub lady's lord madam Magnetic Lady Marian married master Compass master doctor master Practice Maud Mellifleur mother niece noble Onion Ovid Peter Onion Placentia Plautus play Pleasance poet Pol Martin Prac pray Puppy pursuivant Rachel Re-enter Robin Robin Hood SCENE shew signior Sir Dia sir Diaphanous Sir Moth Sirrah speak squire Tub sweet tell thee there's thing thou Turfe unto Valentine Whal word
Page 261 - Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose Gospel is their maw.
Page 255 - Here she was wont to go ! and here ! and here ! Just where those daisies, pinks, and violets grow . The world may find the spring by following her, For other print her airy steps ne'er left. Her treading would not bend a blade of grass, Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk ! But like the soft west wind she shot along, And where she went, the flowers took thickest root, As she had sowed them with her odorous foot.
Page 260 - The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said: But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Page 251 - Hear what his sorrows are; and if they wound Your gentle breasts, so that the end crown all. Which in the scope of one day's chance may fall; Old Trent will send you more such tales as these, And shall grow young again as one doth please. [Exit, but instantly re-enters. But here's an heresy of late let fall, That mirth by no means fits a pastoral; Such say so, who can make none, he presumes: Else there's no scene more properly assumes The sock.
Page 296 - Within a gloomy dimble she doth dwell, Down in a pit, o'ergrown with brakes and briars. Close by the ruins of a shaken abbey, Torn with an earthquake down unto the ground, 'Mongst graves and grots, near an old charnel-house, Where you shall find her sitting in her form, As fearful and melancholic as that She is about; with caterpillars' kells, And knotty cobwebs, rounded in with spells.
Page 296 - The housewife's tun not work, nor the milk churn ; Writhe children's wrists, and suck their breath in sleep Get vials of their blood ; and where the sea Casts up his slimy ooze, search for a weed To open locks with, and to rivet charms Planted about her, in the wicked...
Page 293 - If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd.
Page 257 - bove their heads. ***** The piper's bank, whereon to sit and play : And a fair dial to mete out the day. Our master's feast shall want no just delights, His entertainments must have all the rites. Much. Ay, and all choice that plenty can send in ; Bread, wine, acates, fowl, feather, fish, or fin, For which my father's nets have swept the Trent Enter /EGLAMOUR.
Page 472 - She that pinches country wenches, If they rub not clean their benches, And with sharper nails remembers When they rake not up their embers: But if so they chance to feast her, In a shoe she drops a tester.