DEx - Database

The Image of Melancholy
225 Hence all you fond delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly
There 's nothing truly sweet
If men could truly see't
Save only melancholy
Come folded arms and fixed eyes
A sight that piercing mortifies
A look that is fastened to the ground
A tongue chained without a sound
Fountainheads and pathless grows
Places where pale passion loves
Moonli ght walks, when all the foals
Are warmly housed save bats & owls
A midnight's bell a parting groan
These are the sounds we feed upon
Then stretch your limbs in a still gloomy valley
There's not in the life sweet save melancholy
By Passionate Lord, in The Nice Valour (3.3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry e. 14, f. 84rev

is there a justice, or thunder, my Octavio & he not sunk unto the Center?
By Jacintha, in The Spanish Curate (1.2.11-13), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 1

___ we cut not out our clothes, sir, at half-sword, as your tailors do, and pink 'em with pikes, & partisans
By Fool, in The Mad Lover (1.1.256-258), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

- How our St. Georges will betride the dragons, The red and ramping dragons!
By Fool, in The Mad Lover (1.1.271), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

– But say, Sir Huon--
By Fool, in The Mad Lover (1.1.278), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

If a man mean to live: not to fight & swagger, Beaten about the ears with bawling
sheepskins, cut to the soul for summer, here an arm lost &
there a leg, his honourable head seal’d up in salves, & cerecloths,
like a packet & so sent over to an hospital. & all this sport for
cheese, & chines of dogs flesh, & money when two wednesdays meet
together.
By Fool, in The Mad Lover (1.2.320-328), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

-- when your surgeons paid, & all
your leaks stopt.
By Fool, in The Mad Lover (1.2.333-334), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

3. – If thou dost Sampson thou seest my Myrmidons; I'll let them loose—
By La-Writ, in The Little French Lawyer (4.2.28-29), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

--a hundred bastinadoes do, three broken pates, thy teeth knock'd out,
By La-Writ, in The Little French Lawyer (4.2.17-18), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

thy
small guts perished,
By La-Writ, in The Little French Lawyer (4.2.24), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

thy valiant arms, & legs beaten to poultices
By La-Writ, in The Little French Lawyer (4.2.19), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 2

- I wonder, wenches, How he would speak to us.;
By Calis, in The Mad Lover (1.1.85-88), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

Sure, his Lordship's viewing our fortifications,
By Calis, in The Mad Lover (1.1.95-96), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

– He will run March-mad else; the fumes of battles ascend into his brains
By Lucippe, in The Mad Lover (1.1.146-148), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

4.
– if I studied the country's laws I should so easily sound all
their depth, & rise up such a wonder, that the pleaders that now are
in most practice, & esteem should starve for want of clients. If I
travell'd like wise Ulysses to see men, & manners, I would return
in act more knowing than Homer could fancy him. If a physician
so oft I would restore death-wounded men, That where I lived
Galen should not be named, & he that join'd again the scattered limbs Of
torn Hippolytus should be forgotten. I could teach Ovid courtship. how
to win A Julia, & enjoy her, tho her dower were all the Sun gives
light to. And for arms, were the Persian host that drank up rivers
added to the Turks present powers, I could direct common, & marshal them
By Duarte, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.111-28), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

--Like Plautus Braggart.
By Manuel, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.130), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

– I'll take her eye as soon
as she look on me. And if I come to speak once, woe be to her;
I have her in a nooze, she cannot escape me.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (5.5.36-38), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

– I'll makes a
Nun forget her beads in two hours.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (5.5.42), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

– She is mine own: I
told you what a spell I carried with me.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (5.5.76-77), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 3

3
— That is all Innocent. for whom a dove would assume the
courage of a daring Eagle.
By Champernel, in The Little French Lawyer (3.1.29-30), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 4

1. kneald
\where’s the general?
By Syphax, in The Mad Lover (2.1.95-98), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 5

3.
– as men transform'd with the strange tale I told, they stood amaz’d
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (5.1.148-149), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 5

4
– fie fie how lumpish? In a young ladies arms thus dull?
By Hippolyta, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.175-77), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 5

1.
his means are gone –
By Lovegood, in The Spanish Curate (#1.1.5), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 6

He keeps the house of pride, &
foolery: I mean to shun it; so return my answer ‘Twill shortly spew him out.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (2.4.22-23), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 6

1.
These Court Camelions.
By Chilax, in The Mad Lover (1.1.224), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 7

– For all men get by fooling, merely
fooling. Desert does nothing valiant, wise, virtuous are things
that walk by with out bread, or breeches.
By Fool, in The Mad Lover (1.2.301-03), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 7

1. – Peace plays with you, as the wind plays with feathers, dances
ye, you grind with all gusts, gallants. –
By Chilax, in The Mad Lover (1.1.260-62), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 8

1
–the iron age return’d to Erebus.
By Fool, in The Mad Lover (1.1.282), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 9

-- hang your iron up,
By Picus, in The Mad Lover (1.2.337), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 9

We must now turn y our sternness into courtship
By King of Paphos, in The Mad Lover (None), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 9

1.
Tis but to die. dogs do it, ducks with dabbling. Birds sing away
their souls, & babies sleep th ’em
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (2.1.1-2), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 10

4
death has so many doors to let out life I will not long survive them
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (2.2.35-36), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 10

Undertake sir a voyage round about
the world?
By Syphax, in The Mad Lover (2.1.119-24), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

I would Stand a breach?
By Syphax, in The Mad Lover (2.1.127-130), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

3
–but for Cleremont, the bold, & undertaking Cleremont ---
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.41-2), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

--thou art all hon our, thy resolution would steel a coward
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.2.82-3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

Name that danger, be it of what horrid shape soever lady which I will shrink at
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.3.52-4), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

- I disclaim him he has no part in me, nor in my blood. My brother that kept fortune bound, & left
conquest hereditary to his issue could not beget a coward –
By Champernel, in The Little French Lawyer (3.3.2-6), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

--one so excellent in all that ’s noble. Whose only weakness
is excesse of courage. that knows no enemies that he cannot
master, but his affections.
By Lamira, in The Little French Lawyer (3.1.57-60), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

4.
– but never saw so small a bark with such incredible valour so long
defended, & against such odds, & by two men scarce arm’d too.
By Leopold, in The Custom of the Country (2.2.5-8), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

–And
yet the courage they expressed being taken, & their contemt of death
wan more upon me than all they did when they were free. methinks I
see them yet when they were brought aboard us disarmed & ready
to be put in fetters How on the sudden as if they had sworn
never to taste the bread of servitutde Both snatching up their swords
& from this Virgin Taking a farewell only with their eyes They leap'd
into the sea --
By Leopold, in The Custom of the Country (2.2.9-18), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

& with such strength & cunning, they swim ming did delude the rising billows, with one hand making way
& with the other their bloody swords advanced, threatening the seagods
with war, unlesse they brought them safely off that I am almost
confident they live
By Leopold, in The Custom of the Country (2.2.28-33), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 11

1.
The loves we now know are but the heats of half and hour & heated desires stirred up by nature to increase her licking of one another to a lust
coarse & base appetites, earth's mere inheritors and the heirs of idleness & blood.
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (2.1.132-44), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 12

things like ourselves as sensual, vain, unvented, bubbles and breaths of air
got with an itching, as blisters are and, bred, as much corruption flows from their lives; sorrow conceives & shapes
them. & oftentimes the death of those we love most the breeders bring them to
the world.
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (2.1.159-64), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 12

&c. p. 7
They make time old to tend them & experience an ass they
alter so. They grow. & goodly ere we can turn our thoughts, like drops of
water, they fall into the main, & are know no more. This is the love
of this world.
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (#2.1.167-71), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 12

+
That beauty smiles not on a cheek wash'd over
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (2.1.48), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 12

4.
D'ye love as painters do, only some pieces, some cartain handsome
touches of y our mistress, & let the mind pass by you unexamined?
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.224-226), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 12

– Did thou ever see a dog run mad o’the toothache? such another
toy is he now. so he gloats, & a grin, & bites
By Chilax, in The Mad Lover (2.2.36-8), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 13

Wild as Winter.
By Polydore, in The Mad Lover (4.5.36), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 13

to a woman of her hopes beguiled
A viper trod on, or an aspic mild.
By Violante, in The Spanish Curate (4.3.125-6), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 13

-- nothing with in but he, & his law-tempest!
By Diego, in The Spanish Curate (4.7.31), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 13

See where the sea comes!
how it foams, & brustles! The great leviathan o’the law, how
it tumbles!
By Lopez, in The Spanish Curate (4.7.35), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 13

3.
– Peace, touch wood.
By Cleremont, in The Little French Lawyer (2.3.142), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 13

4.
– Once well-angered, ad every cross in us provokes that passion & like a sea, I roll, toss, & chafe
a week after. ----
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.338-340), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 13

He has a stirring soul whatever it attempts or labours at Would wear out twenty bodies in another
By Chilax, in The Mad Lover (2.2.42-44), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 14

2.
Give good fees, & those beget good causes.
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (3.1.13), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 15

– Line your cause
warmly Sir, the times are anguish. that holds a plea in heart. hang
the penurious. their causes (like their purses) have poor issues.
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (3.1.19-21), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 15

Live
full of money, & supply the lawyer, & take y our choice of what mans
land you please, Sir, what pleasures, or what profits, what revenges They are
all y our own .___
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (3.2.24-7), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 15

1
– Your mangy soul is not immortal here, sir; Ye must die, and we must meet; we must, maggot,
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (20-1), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 16

Surgeon, syringe, dog-leech.
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (3.2.74-5), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 16

- Up, ye old gaping oyster
By Chilax, in The Mad Lover (5.3.7), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 16

3.
– two edg’d words.
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (5.3.37), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 16

–such scabs of nature.
By Annabell, in The Little French Lawyer (5.1.74), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 16

4.
thou glorious Devil, thou varnish'd piece of lust, thou painted
fury
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (4.3.144-45), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 16

- 2.
Remember, varlets, quake
& remember rogues. I have brine for y our buttocks.
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (4.6.189-90), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 17

– 3.
I would make
thee on thy knees, bite out the tongue that wronged me.
By Champernel, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.230-31), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 17

4.
–if you play not fair play, & above board too, I have a
foolish gin here I say no more, I'll tell you what & if y our hon our s guts are
not enchanted ____
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.143-47), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 17

2.
– he has no heat; study consumes his oil.
By Diego, in The Spanish Curate (2.2.154-155), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 18

– a modest poor
slight thing, Did I not tell thee He was only given to the book.
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (2.4.4-5), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 18

Thou may wear him next thy heart, & yet not warm him. His mind ( poor man's) of the
law, how to live after, & not on lewdness. On my conscience he knows not how to
look upon a woman more than by reading what sex she is.
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (2.4.14-9), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 18

1
—A sweeter sorrow I never look'd upon, nor one that braver
became his grief.
By Calis, in The Mad Lover (3.4.21-3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

– Embalm it in y our truest tears.
-- if women can weep in truth, or ever sorrow.
By Polydore, in The Mad Lover (3.4.39), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

more drops to the Ocean?
By King of Paphos, in The Mad Lover (5.4.251), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

but that
(to perfect my account of sorrow) -- --
By Violante, in The Spanish Curate (4.1.12), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

3
– with so full a sorrow Follow'd each point that men from those rude eyes, that never
knew what pity meant, or mercy, there stole down soft relentings
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (4.1.143-45), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

--I am girt round with sorrow hell’s about me
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (5.2.268), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

4
– ‘twould melt a marble And tame a savage man, to feel my fortune.
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.1-2), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

Strew all y our withered flowers, y our autumn sweets by the hot
sun ravished of bud, & beauty
By Charino, in The Custom of the Country (1.2.2-3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

no merry
noise; nor lusty songs be heard here, nor full cups crowned with
wine make the rooms giddy.
By Charino, in The Custom of the Country (1.2.8-10), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

Sing mournfully--& that sad epithalamion I gave thee now and prithee
let thy Lute weep.
By Charino, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.11-12), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

– Close retirements! No visitants admitted, not the day, these sable colours, all signs of true sorrow.
By Duarte, in The Custom of the Country (5.2.12-14), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 19

R.
– being set in years, none of those lusters Appear
now in her age, that warm the fancy, nor nothing in her face, but
handsome ruins.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (5.5.46-49), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 20

1. Enter a mask of beasts.
This lion was a man of war that died As thou wouldst do,
to gild his lady's pride. This dog a fool that hung himself for
love. This ape with daily hugging of a glove forgot to eat
& died. This goodly tree An usher that still grew before his
Lady witherd at root. This, for he could not woo, a grumbling
Lawyer. This pied bird a page, that melted out because he
wanted age.
By Orpheus, in The Mad Lover (78-86), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 21

– 3
your presents. courtship, that s too good a
name, your sllave-like services your morning music, your walking
three hours in the rain at midnight To see her at her window,
sometimes laugh'd at, sometimes admitted, & vouchsafed to
kiss her glove, her skirt, nay I have heard her slippers. How then
you triumph'd?
By Cleremont, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.101-7), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 21

– 4.
‘tis now in fashion Having a Mistress, sure
you should not be with out a neat historical shirt.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (2.3.24-26), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 21

1
– Faire, or foul, or blind, or lame that can but lift her leg up comes not amiss to him.
By Polybius, in The Mad Lover (4.5.18-20), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

he
rides like a night mare all ages, all religions.
By Polydore, in The Mad Lover (4.5.20-21), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– She has
smock'd away her blood.
By Polydore, in The Mad Lover (4.5.18), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– where did he get this vermin? &.
By Eumenes, in The Mad Lover (4.5.13), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– on easy- yielding wanton
By Jacintha, in The Spanish Curate (3.3.147), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

-- tired with loose dalliance, & with empty vaines he married her
By Violante, in The Spanish Curate (4.1.9), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

3
– every bone about you shakesmakes you good Almanac makers to
foretell what weather we shall have.
By Champernel, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.280-82), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– Ovid’s afternoon.
By Cleremont, in The Little French Lawyer (4.7.67), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

-- the spring of chastity.
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (5.1.246), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

I will defile with mud, the mud of lust,
& make it loathsome even to goats—
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (5.1.248-49), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

4.
–a dainty wench. would I might farm his custom.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.61-62), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

--a town bull is a mere stoic to this fellow, ~~& a Spanish, jennet~~ a grave philosopher, & a spanish jennet a most
virtuous gentleman.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.159-161), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– a cat-o'-mountain
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.158), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– A Cannibal
that feeds on the heads of maids
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.155), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– This rogue that breaks young
wenches to the saddle
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.167), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

& know the perfect manage
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.174), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

excellent dissector, One that has cut up more young tender lamb pies—
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.180-81), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

--this puckfist, this universal rutter--
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.2.24-25), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

-- Pox on your kidneys
how they begin to melt! how big he beares. Sure he will
leap before us all!
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.259-61), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

how the dog leers!
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.264), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– I am hot, so fiery
& my blood beats alarms through my body, & fancy high
By Clodio, in The Custom of the Country (1.2.41-3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

would you have
children? I'll get you those as fast, & thick as fly-blows.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (3.3.81-82), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

--he was of Italy, & that country breeds not Precisians that way, but
hot Libertines
By Duarte, in The Custom of the Country (4.1.47-48), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

—the man’s lost. You may gather up his
dry bones to make nine-pins, but for his flesh—
By Jacintha, in The Spanish Curate (4.4.28-30), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

—look’s as
if I were crow-trodden. fie how my hams shrink unđunder me!
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (4.4.54-55), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

- appear like a rascal that had bin hung a year, or two in gibbets.
By Sulpitia, in The Custom of the Country (4.4.59-60), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

- draw my legs after me like a lame dog.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (4.4.88), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– O the old Lady!
I have a kind of waiting-woman lies cross my back too. o how she
stings!
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (4.4.72-74), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– Than all the exercise in the world. besides to be drunk with good
Canary a meer julep, or like gourd water to it. twenty surfeits
come short of one night's work.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (5.1.17-20), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

Make me a dog kennel, I'll keep your house & bark,
& feed on bare bones. & be whipp'd out o' doors.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (4.4.119-21), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

& rather than laboring in
these fulling mills.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (4.4.107-108), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 22

– stinks like a poison'd rat behind
a hanging, Woman, who art'a?-- like a rotten cabbage.
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (4.5.44-5), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

– the good gentlewoman
is strucken dumb. & there her grace sits mumping like an
old ape eating of brawn.
By Chilax, in The Mad Lover (5.4.8-10), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

I dare tell you to your new cerused face, what I have spoke freely behind your back, what I think of you You are the proudest thing & have the least reason to be so, that I ever read of. In stature
you are a giantess, & your tailor takes measure of you with a
Jacobs staff, or he can never reach you. this, by the way For your large size. Now, in a word or two, To treat of your complexion were decorum, you
are so far from fair, I doubt your mother was too familiar
with the Moore that serve her. Y our limbs, & features I pass briefly
over, as things not worth description, & come roundly to your soul
if you have any. for ‘tis doubtful.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (4.1.32-46), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

I have spoken.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (5.1.33), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

3
– what an alphabet of faces he puts on?
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (2.3.24), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

-- the dry biscuit rogue
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (2.3.58), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

– a bedrid winter hang upon y our
cheeks, & blast, blast, blast those buds of pride that paint you—
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (3.5.58-60), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

4
– meager paleness like winter nips the roses, & the lilies, the
spring that youth & love adorned her face with
By Sulpitia, in The Custom of the Country (5.2.3-5), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

-- the image of pale death stamp'd on her forehead.
By Zabulon, in The Custom of the Country (5.2.21), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 23

1
– smells like mornings breath, pure amber, beyond the courted
Indies in her spices.
By Memnon, in The Mad Lover (4.5.49-50), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

2
—whose all-excelling form disdains comparison with any she, that puts in for a fair one__
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.262-254), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

What curious
nature made with out a pattern, Whose copy she hath lost too –
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.271-72), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

--some prefer the French for their conceited dressings – some the plump
Itatian bona roba’s
By Leandro, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.248-50), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

– I am strucken dumb with wonder! sure
all the excellence of the Earth dwells here.
By Leandro, in The Spanish Curate (2.4.69-70), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

– How his eyes like
torches fling their beams round: how manly his face shows!
By Amaranta, in The Spanish Curate (2.4.71-72), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

-- thus divine lips where perpetual spring grows.
By Leandro, in The Spanish Curate (3.4.94), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

3
– fair orb of beauty.
By Chorus, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.142), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

-- put on all her beauties, all her enticements, outblush damask
roses, & dim the breaking East with her bright crystals.
By Clodio, in The Custom of the Country (1.2.46-8), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

-- the beauteous huntress fairer far and sweeter!. Diana shews an Ethiop to this beauty.
By Clodio, in The Custom of the Country (1.2.53-54), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

Ha! bless mine eyes! what precious piece of nature to pose the
world?
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.62-3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

– Bless me! what stars are there?
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.69), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

-- the abstract of all sweetness,
By Zabulon, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.75), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

--as fair as if the morning bare her. ye Imagination never made a sweeter. –
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.131-32), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

--they flatter'd me that said my looks were charms, my touches fetters. My locks soft chains to bind the arms of Princes, & make them
in that wish'd for bondage happy.
By Hippolyta, in The Custom of the Country (3.4.23-6), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 24

I would resign my essence, that he were As happy as my love could
fashion him, though every blessing that should fall on him, might prove a curse to me
By Jacintha, in The Spanish Curate (4.4.6-9), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 25

3.
– the soft-plum’d god
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (5.1.147), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 25

– licking of my fingers, kneeling, &
whining like a boy new breech'd To get a toy forsooth not worth
an apple—
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (5.1.254-56), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 25

4
– to him in sacred vow I have given this body, in him my mind inhabits
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.121-22), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 25

our thread of life was spun
together –
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (5.4.90-1), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 25

2
– careful too on whom he showers his bounties. He that's liberal
to all alike, may do a good by chance, but never out of
judgment.
By Angelo Milanes, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.20-3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 26

– 4.
(jewels)
--& when I covet to give such toys as these
By Hippolyta, in The Custom of the Country (#3.2.161-62), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 26

Thus like the lazy minutes will I drop them which
past once are forgotten.
By Hippolyta, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.163-64), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 26

2
y our gathering sires so long heap muck together that their sons
to rid them of their care wish them in heaven—
By Angelo Milanes, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.5-7), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

-- join farm to farm, suffer no Lordship that in a clear day Falls
in the prospect of your covetous eye to be anothers. forget you are a grandee take use
upon use, & cut the throats of heirs with cozening Mortgages
rack your poor tenants, till they look like so many skeletons
for want of food: And when that widows' curses the ruins of ancient
families, tears of Orphans Have hurried you to the devil, ever remember all was raked up for me, your thankful brother, that will dance merrily upon your grave, perhaps give a double
pistolet to some poor needy friar to say a mass to keep
y our ghost from walking.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.197-211), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

If you can find a loophole though in hell, o look on my behaviour, you shall seeme him ransack y our iron chests. & once again
Pluto’s flamecoloured daughter shall be free to domineer in
Taverns, masks, & revels, as she was used before she was
y our captive.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.214-19), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

– covetous beyond expression. & to increase
his heap will dare the devil & all the plagues of darkness.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.280-282), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

--at home he lived like a chameleon, suck'd the air of misery, & grew
fat by the brewis of an eggshell. would smell a cook's shop, & go
home, & surfeit, & be a month in fasting out that fever.
By Lopez, in The Spanish Curate (4.5.19-23), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

I'll clap four tire of teeth into my mouth more
but I will grind his substance.
By Diego, in The Spanish Curate (4.7.129-30), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

3
– already have one foot in the grave, yet study profit, as if you were
assur’d to live here ever.
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.161-62), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

- All you shall wear, or touch, or see is purchas'd by
lawless force, & so you but revel in The tears, & groans
of such as were the owners
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.213-215), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

4
like a rich miser Hoard up the treasure you possess imparting Nor to yourself nor
others the use of them. They are to you but like enchanted Viands
On which you seem to feed, yet pine with hunger
By Guiomar, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.133-37), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 27

2
– So jealous as if you would parallel Old Argus to him you
must multiply his eyes a hundred times. of these none sleep.
He that would charm the heaviest lid must hire a better
Mercury than Jove made use of.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (1.1.283-87), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 28

– My Amaranta
a retired sweet life, Private, & close, & still, & housewifely
becomes a wife, sets off the grace of woman. At home to be
believed both young. & handsome, As lilies that are cased in crystal glasses, Makes up the wonder: shew it abroad, ‘tis stale. &
still the more eyes cheapen it, ‘tis more slubberd. And what need
windows open to inviting? or evening terraces to take opinions when the most wholesome air my wife blows inwards, when good thoughts
are the noblest companions, & old chaste stories wife the best discourses. --
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (2.2.1-12), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 28

The one hundred thousand dreams now that possess him of jealousy, & of
revenge & frailty.
By Angelo Milanes, in The Spanish Curate (4.7.17-8), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 28

3. –
R.
did not he take measure of my sheets?
By Champernel, in The Little French Lawyer (81-82), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 28

2
Can you with one hand prop a falling tower or with the
other stop the raging main when it breaks in on the usurped
shore, or any thing ] that is impossible? and then conclude that there is some
way left to move him to compassion ----
By Octavio, in The Spanish Curate (1.2.6-11), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 29

2.
tame silence ( the balm of the oppress'd )
By Octavio, in The Spanish Curate (1.2.23-24), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 30

– though my
wants were centuplied upon myself. I could be patient –
By Jacintha, in The Spanish Curate (1.2.28-29), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 30

2.
they with joy behold the models of their youth, & as their root
decays those budding branches Sprout forth, & flourish to
renew their age.
By DonHenrique, in The Spanish Curate (1.3.15-17), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 31

– they eat nothing but herbs &
get nothing but green sauce. there are Some poor labourers that perhaps
once in seven years with helping one another produce some
few pined butter prints, that scarce hold the christening neither.
By Diego, in The Spanish Curate (2.1.66-70), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 31

2.
And handle her case, master; that's a law-point, a point would make him start, and put on his spectacles a hidden point were
worth the canvassing.
By Diego, in The Spanish Curate (2.3.143-45), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 32

If my youth do dub him
By Lopez, in The Spanish Curate (2.3.152), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 32

– plough with his
fine white heifer.
By Arsenio, in The Spanish Curate (2.3.12-13), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 32

– crown his Lawyer a learn'd monster
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (2.4.16-28), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 32

-- a thick ram headed knave –
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (5.2.85), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 32

3.
How the thing looks!
By Beaupre, in The Little French Lawyer (2.1.80), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 33

4.
and this makes him shunn'd of all fair societies.
By Manuel, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.59), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 33

I look down upon him with such contempt, & scorn As on my
slave.
By Duarte, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.91-92), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 33

compare with me? tis giantlike ambition.
By Duarte, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.99-100), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 33

- And those too many excellencies, that feed y our pride, turn to a Phi:
nity, & kill, That which should nourish virtue –
By Manuel, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.141-43), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 33

2.
If I stood here to plead in the defense of an ill man,
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (3.3.66-67), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 34

It would be requisite I should deck my Language with tropes, & figures, & all flourishes that grace a Rhetorician. 'tis confess'd Adulterate metals need the goldsmith's art to set em off. what in itself is perfect contemns a borrowed gloss.
By Bartolus, in The Spanish Curate (3.3.70-75), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 34

a lawyer that entangles all
mens honesties. & lives like a spider in a cobweb lurking, &
catching at all flies that pass his pit-falls. puts powder to
all states to make ‘em caper.
By Lopez, in The Spanish Curate (4.5.166-70), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 35

– Nothing with in, but he, &
his lawtempest.
By Diego, in The Spanish Curate (4.7.31), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 35

2.
when we are red with murder, let us often bath in blood,
the col our will be scarlet.
By Don Jamie, in The Spanish Curate (5.2.137-39), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 36

3.
– Response
–As you had a mother
By Lamira, in The Little French Lawyer (5.1.62-64), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 36

4
– now you may feast on my miseries
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (86-87), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 36

3
that daring vice for which the whole age suffers. The blood our bold
youth that heretofore was spent in honourable action Or to defend or
to enlarge the kingdom. For the honour of our country and our prince Pours itself out with Odd p abbreviation: check MUFI prodigal expense upon our
mothers lap the earth, that bred us, for every trifle.
By Cleremont, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.12-15), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

And I have heard
that some of our late Kings For the lie wearing of a mistress'
favours, a cheat at cards, or dice Have lost as many gallant gentle
men, as might have met the great Turk in the field, with confidence
of a glorious Victory.
By Cleremont, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.29-35), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

Are banisht from all civil governments
scarce three in Venice in as many years, in Florence they are rarer
& in all the fair dominions of the Spanish King They are never heard of—
By Cleremont, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.22-26), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

— the common second.
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.50), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

At fifteen, for at those years, I have heard Thou wast flesh'd, and enter'd bravely.
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.49-50), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

Poor men seek arbitrators, thou wert chosen By such as knew thee not, to compound quarrels
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.55-56), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

– studied the criticisms of contention
By Dinant, in The Little French Lawyer (1.1.60-61), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

—Mine is no Helens beauty, to be purchas'd with blood—
By Lamira, in The Little French Lawyer (1.3.58), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 37

--was there no tree, ~~to for~~ nor no river to force thy life out
backward or to drown it, but that thou must survive thy
infamy? & kill me with the sight of one I hate, & gladly
would forget.
By Champernel, in The Little French Lawyer (3.1.11-17), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 38

4.
Hide not that bitter pill I loath to swallow in such sweet words.
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.92-93), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 39

4.
Arnoldo's very looks are fair examples. his common & indifferent
actions Rules, & strong ties of virtue —
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.118-120), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 40

You are so heavenly good, no man can reach you
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.248), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 40

-- should My Zenocia die robbing this age of all that ’s good, or graceful.
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (5.4.25-26), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 40

--O thou dread power that madest this All, & of thy workmanship
this virgin wife the masterpiece, look down on her &c.
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (5.4.1-3), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 40

– Let innocence,
to which all passages in heaven stand open Appear in her white
robe before thy throne & mediate for her –
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (5.4.7-10), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 40

-- Never so laden with admired example—
By Guiomar, in The Custom of the Country (5.5.13), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 40

4.
what sacrifice of thanks, what age of service, what danger of
more dreadful look than death, what willing martyrdome to crown me constant may
merit such a goodness such a sweetness?
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.129-132), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 41

– let me first fall
Before y our feet & on them pay the duty I owe your goodness. ~~next all blessings to you~~ next, all blessings to you, And Heaven restore the joys I have bereft you, With full increase hereafter! living be the goddess styled of
hospitality.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (2.4.114-119), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 41

4.
– She hates, as heaven hates falsehood.
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.108), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 42

– this heart
hate you, as if you were born my full antipathy
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.236-37), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 42

-- I would spare that villain first, had cut my fathers throat.—
By Hippolyta, in The Custom of the Country (4.3.125-26), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 42

4
– lighter a pair of shackles will hang on you & a quieter a quartain
fever find you
By Zenocia, in The Custom of the Country (1.1.325-26), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 43

4.
give me some wine & fill it till it leap upon my lips.
By Clodio, in The Custom of the Country (1.2.33-34), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 44

Be sure the wines be lusty, high, & full of spirit and ambered all.
By Zabulon, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.5-6), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 44

4.
He's a name only. & all good in him He must derive from
his great grandsires ashes. For had not their victorious acts be-
queath’d His titles to him, & wrote on his forehead This is a
Lord, he had lived unobserved By any man of mark, & died as
one Among the common rout.
By Duarte, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.94-104), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 45

that man is truly noble, & he
may justly call that worth his own, which his deserts have purchased.
I could wish my birth were more obscure &c—
By Duarte, in The Custom of the Country (2.1.101-04), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 45

4
– we are stangers, wondrous hungry strangers, & charity
growing cold, & miracles ceasing, with out a conjuror's help,
cannot find when we shall eat again.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (2.3.5-8), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 46

– hope is a
poor salad to dine, & sup with after a two days fast too.
By Rutilo, in The Custom of the Country (2.3.21-22), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 46

4.
well, blind fortune, thou hast the prettiest changes,
when thou art pleased to play thy game out wantonly –
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (3.2.37-39), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 47

--another smile. another trick of fortune to betray us.
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (4.3.204-05), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 47

4.
– the tempest we have met in our uncertain voyage were smooth gales
compared to those, the memory of my lusts raised in my conscience
By Clodio, in The Custom of the Country (3.5.2-5), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 48

--Then we live indeed, when we can go to rest with out alarum Given every mintue to a guilt-sick conscience. To keep
us waking, & rise in the morning secure in being innocent; but
when in the remembrance of our worser actions we ever bear about us whips,
& furies To make the day a night of sorrow to us Even life’s a
burden .----
By Doctor, in The Custom of the Country (4.1.6-14), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 48

4. a Bravo.
pay him, he'll do anythingI have brought him, sir; a fellow that will do it, thought hell stood
in his way.
By Zabulon, in The Custom of the Country (2.4.1-2), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 49

He has a strange aspect, & looks much like the
figure of a hangman. In a table of the passion.
By Leopold, in The Custom of the Country (4.2.3-5), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 49

– a fleshed
ruffian, who hath so often taken the strappado, that tis to him but
as a lofty trick Is to a tumbler. he hath perus’d too all
dungeons in the kingdomPortugual. thrice seven years row’d in the gallies
for three several murders. Though I presume that he has done a hundred, and scap'd unpunish'd.
By Zabulon, in The Custom of the Country (4.2.6-13), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 49

I'll undertake, shall kill a man for twenty
By Zabulon, in The Custom of the Country (4.2.22), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 49

but will not beat him under 500. for then he may rec over, & be reveng’d: for a dog that's dead, The Spanish proverb says, will never bite
By Bravo, in The Custom of the Country (4.2.26-7), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 49

4.
– more misery? more ruin? Under what angry star is
my life governed?
By Clodio, in The Custom of the Country (4.3.201-02), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 50

-- adverse fortune bandying us from
one hazard to another.
By Arnoldo, in The Custom of the Country (5.4.57-58), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 50

4
– this second Hecate, this great commandress of the fatal sisters,
that as she pleases can cut short, or lengthen the thread of life—
By Zabulon, in The Custom of the Country (5.2.22-25), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 51

Why should I twine my Arms to Cables? sigh my soul to
Air? sit up all night like a watching candle? Distill
my brains through my eye-lids?
By Sulpitia, in The Custom of the Country (TLN1114-1116), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 71

So wise, as if you had eaten nothing but brains & marrow
of Machiavelli: you tip your speeches with Italian motti; spanish
refraines & English Quoth-Hees. Believe me, there's not a
a proverb salts your tongue, but plants whole colonies
of white Hairs.
By Sulpitia, in The Custom of the Country (TLN2282-2287), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 71

Fy! Wise Lovers are most absurd.
By Sulpitia, in The Custom of the Country (TLN2295-2296), Francis Beaumont
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 29, p. 71

Act.1.
If he depend on others, and stand not on his own bottoms.
By Angelina, in The Elder Brother (1.1.83-84), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

xx
Re, butler and cooks
son of the buttery and kitchen
By Andrew, in The Elder Brother (1.2.18), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

Would 'e have it said Sir, for great and deep a scholar as Master Charles is should ask blessing
in any Christian language.
By Andrew, in The Elder Brother (1.2.42-43), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

Bid my sub-sizar carry my hackney to the buttery; / and give him his beaver Book says "bever," but then refers to beast. You may want to check -SH; it is a civil / and
sober beast, and will drink moderately, and that done turn him into the quadrangle.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (1.2.88-91), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

If we have studied our majors, and your minors, antecedents and consequents to be concluded coxcombs
By Andrew, in The Elder Brother (1.2.270-272), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

Because he has been at court and learned new tongues, / and how to speak a tedious piece of nothing
By Miramont, in The Elder Brother (2.1.27), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

Though I can speak no Greek, I love the sound of it, / it goes so thundering as it conjured devils.
By Miramont, in The Elder Brother (2.1.54-55), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

Good brother Brisac, does your young courtier, that wears the fine clothes, and is the excellent gentleman, the traveller, the soldier, as you think too, understand any other power than his tailor? Or knows what motion is, more than an horse-race? / what the moon
means, but to light him home from taverns? / or the comfort of the sun is, but to wear slash'd
clothes in. / and must this piece of ignorance be popped up, because it can kiss the hand, and cry sweet lady?
By Miramont, in The Elder Brother (2.1.68-72), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

Thou monstrous piece of ignorance in office! / thou that hast no more knowledge than thy clerk infuses;/ thy dapper clerk, larded with ends of Latin, / and he no more than custom of offences; /
Thou unreprievable dunce! that thy formal bandstrings, / thy ring nor pomander can expiate for. / I'll
pose thy worship / in thine own library an almanac.
By Miramont, in The Elder Brother (2.1.102-109), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

thou art ten times worse, / and of
less credit than dunce Hollingshed, the Englishman, that writes of shows and sheriffs.
By Miramont, in The Elder Brother (2.1.117-120), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

ready for the hour, / and like a blushing rose that stays the pulling
By Lewis, in The Elder Brother (2.1.145-146), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

A dumb iustice? / a flat dull piece of phlegm, shaped like a man, / a reuerent idol in a piece of arras.
By Miramont, in The Elder Brother (2.1.160), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 85v

Ask 'em any thing | out of [the] element of their understanding ,| and they stand gaping like a roasted pig. | Do they know any thing but a tired hackney?| And they 'Absurd!' as the horse understand 'em
By Cowsy, in The Elder Brother (2.2.16-22), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

That speak [the] lisp of court, oh tis great learning!
By Cowsy, in The Elder Brother (2.2.41), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Tis not half an hour's work; A Cupid, and a fiddle and [the] thing's done.
By Egremont, in The Elder Brother (2.2.48), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

I've read of entertainment for [the] gods at half this charge.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (3.3.34-35), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Beauty clear and fair ;| where [the] air | rather like a sfume dwells; | where [the] violet and [the] rose| their blue veins in blush disclose | and come to honour nothing else. | Where to live near ,| and planted there,| is to live and still live new;| where to gain a favour is | more than life, perpetual bliss, | make me live by serving you.|| Dear, again back re- call, | to this light, | A Stronger to himself and all: | both [the] wonder and [the] story | shall be yours, and eke [the] glory | I am your servant and [your] thrall.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (3.5.77-94), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

[the] old man cannot love his heaps of gold| [with] a more doting, | Thank I'll love you
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (3.5.163-165), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

We'll live together like two wanton vines,| circling or souls and loves in one another; | We'll spring together, and We'll bear one fruit,| one joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn, | one age go [with] us, and one hour of death| shall shut our eyes, and one grave make us happy.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (3.5.171-176), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Act: 4. you have no souls, no mettle in your bloods, no heat to stir ye when ye have occasion ,| frozen dull things [that] must be / turned [with] levers, | Are you the courtiers, and the travell'd gallants, The sprightly fellows, that the people talk of? Ye have no more spirit than three sleepy sops
By Brisac, in The Elder Brother (4.1.4-9), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Nor can her lightness, nor you supposition cast an aspersion on me.
By Brisac, in The Elder Brother (4.2.66-67), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

"run-in" x I am wounded in fact, he indeed ^really
By Brisac, in The Elder Brother (4.2.66-67), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

sooner would I force a separation| Betwixt this spirit and [the] case of flesh, | than but
conceive one rudeness against chastity.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (4.3.66-67), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

good night to you, and may [the] dew of sleep fall gently on you sweet one; no dreams but chaste and clear attempt [your] fancy, | and break betimes, sweet morn, I've lost my light else.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (4.3.101-105), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

And hast no wit nor spirit to maintain it? Stand still, thou sign of man, and pray for thy friends
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (4.3.154-155), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

xx Saint George upon a sign would grow more sensible;| if [the] name of honour were for ever to be lost.
By Angelina, in The Elder Brother (4.4.203-204), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

This was never penn'd at Geneva; the note's too sprightly
By Andrew, in The Elder Brother (4.4.19-20), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

to bring me back from my grammar to my horn book.
By Andrew, in The Elder Brother (4.4.125-126), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

But all he meets, that you have eat a snake? And are grown young, gamesome, and rampant.
By Andrew, in The Elder Brother (4.4.143-144), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

You have given him a heat, sir
By Lily, in The Elder Brother (4.4.171), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Act. 5. Fighting! what's fighting? it may be in fashion,| among provant swords, and buff-jerkin men.
By Egremont, in The Elder Brother (5.1.19-20), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

such as you render [the] count contemptible, you are Scarabees, [that] batten in her dung, and have no palates | to taste her curious viands.
By Eustace, in The Elder Brother (5.1.53-56), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Recant what you have said, ye mongrels, and lick up [the] vomit you have cast on [the] court.
By Eustace, in The Elder Brother (5.1.80-82), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

The dead flesh of pale cowardice growing ouer. your fester'd reputation, which no balm or gentle ungent ever could make way to it
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (5.1.183-184), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

x This discourse is from [the] subject.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (5.1.193-194), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

As for [the] sword and other fripperies In a fair way send for them you shall have 'em.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (5.1.210-211), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Here are rare things
By Ralph, in The Elder Brother (2.3.19), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

cast behind me all ties of nature.
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (5.1.213-214), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

Or, if I did, I did regard them but
By Charles, in The Elder Brother (2.4.39), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

All this is lip-salve
By Eustace, in The Elder Brother (5.1.277), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 86r

The multitude that seldom know any thing but their own opinions speak that they would have
By Dion, in Philaster (1.1.11-13), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

A , or p ro clamation.
By Dion, in Philaster (1.1.38), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

xx
She is one that may stand still discreetly enough, and ill-favouredly dance her
measure.
By Dion, in Philaster (1.1.49-50), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

xx
they were never abroad: what foreigner would do so? it writes them directly untravelled
By Lady, in Philaster (1.1.69-70), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

they cannot maintain discourse with a judicious lady nor make a leg nor say excuse me.
By Lady, in Philaster (1.1.75-77), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

My reign shall be so easy to the subject, / that every man shall be his prince himself, /
and his owne law
By Pharamond, in Philaster (1.1.152-154), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

xx
I wonder what's his price? for certainly he'll sell himself he has
so praised his shape
By Dion, in Philaster (1.1.165-166), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

Let me be swallow'd quick, if I can find in all the anotomy of yon mans
virtues, one sinew sound enough to promise for him he shall be constable.
By Dion, in Philaster (1.1.169-172), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

Right noble Sir, as low as my obedience, / and with a heart as loyal as my knee, / I beg your favour.
By Philaster, in Philaster (1.1.175-177), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

Ne'er stare, nor put on wonder: for you must / endure me and you shall. This earth you
tread upon, / (a dowry as you hope with this fair princess, / whose memory I bow to) was
not left / by my dead father (oh, I had a father whose memory I bow to!) was not left to your inheritance and I up and living./
having myself about me and my sword, / the souls of all my name, and memories, / these
arms and some few friends, beside the the gods, / to part so calmly with it and sit still, /
and say I might have been. I tell thee Pharamond / when thou are King
look I be dead and rotten / and my name ashes.
By Philaster, in Philaster (1.1.186-198), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 93v

A.
B.
You are too bold
By King, in Philaster (1.1.208-209), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

If thou wert sole inheritor to him / that made the world his: and coulst see no sun / shine upon
anything but thine.
By Philaster, in Philaster (1.1.229-231), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx
mens hearts and faces are so far asunder that they hold no intelligence.
By Dion, in Philaster (1.1.261-262), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

A.
B.
smooth your brow or by the gods.
By King, in Philaster (1.1.271-272), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

what a dangerous train did he give fire to!
By Dion, in Philaster (1.1.304-305), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx
and live recluse.
By Philaster, in Philaster (1.1.315), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

A.
B.
To you, brave lord; the princess would entreat Your present company
By Lady, in Philaster (1.1.339-341), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Your eye may me dead, or those true red and white friends in her cheeks may steal my ^ (soul out.
By Philaster, in Philaster (1.1.351-352), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

but that I thought myself as great a basilisk as he.
By Philaster, in Philaster (1.2.72-73), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Another soul into my body shot, / could not have filled mee with more strength and spirit, / than
this thy breath.
By Arethusa, in Philaster (1.2.98-101), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx
let us leave and kiss, lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us, /
and wee should part with out it.
By Arethusa, in Philaster (1.2.106-108), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx
Hide me from Pharamond! When thunder speakes, which
is the voice of Jove, / though I do reverence yet I hide me not.
By Arethusa, in Philaster (1.2.149-151), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

I loathe to brawl with such a s blast as thou / who art nought but a valiant voice: but if /
thou shalt provoke me further: man shall say / thou wert, and not lament it.
By Philaster, in Philaster (1.2.179-182), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Sir, you did take me up when I was nothing, / and only yet am something by being yours.
By Bellario, in Philaster (2.1.5-7), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

My lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do more service for you take this little prayer. Heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your designs! May sick men, if they have your wish, be well: / and heaven
hate those you curse though I be one.
By Bellario, in Philaster (2.1.52-56), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx
would outdo story
By Philaster, in Philaster (2.1.60), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Be not bawdy, nor do not brag. and then I think, I shall have sense enough to answer
all the weighty apothegms. your royal blood shall manage.
By Philaster, in Philaster (2.2.14-18), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

A.
B.
Dear lady.
By Pharamond, in Philaster (2.2.19-25), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

they are two twinn'd cherries dyed in blushes, / which those fair suns above with their bright
beams / reflect upon and ripen: sweetest beauty, / bow down those branches, that the longing taste, / of the faint looker on, may meet those blessings, / and taste and live.
By Pharamond, in Philaster (2.2.82-87), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be when no breath troubles them.
By Arethusa, in Philaster (2.3.43-44), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Come ladies shall we talk a round: as men do walk a mile, women should talk an hour
after supper.
By Dion, in Philaster (2.4.1-3), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx
Thou piece / made by a painter, and a Pothecary: / thou troubled sea
of lust. thou wilderness, / inhabited by wild thoughts: thou swollen cloud / of infection.
By King, in Philaster (2.4.139-143), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

By all those gods you swore by, and as many more of my owne.
By Megra, in Philaster (2.4.155-156), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

the people against their nature are all bent for him, / and like a field of standing corn, thats moved / with a stiff
gale; their heads bow all one way.
By Cleremont, in Philaster (3.1.20-23), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx
set hills on hills betwixt me and the man that utters this,
and I will scale them all, / and from the utmost top fall on his neck, / like thunder from a cloud.
By Philaster, in Philaster (3.1.73-76), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

the winds that are let loose, / from the four several corners of the earth, / and spread themselves all over sea and
land, / And spread themselves all over sea and land kiss not a chaste one
By Philaster, in Philaster (3.1.119-122), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

xx A:
B.
A.
(This is a common expression every poet when a man is, (troubled within.) ***
are you not ill my lord.
By Bellario, in Philaster (3.1.187-191), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Now I see, why my disturbed thoughts were soe perplex'd when first I went to her/ my heart held augury
By Philaster, in Philaster (3.1.207-209), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94r

Hew me asunder, and whilst I can, / I'll love those pieces you have cut away,/
better than those that grow: and kiss those limbs / because you made them so
By Bellario, in Philaster (3.1.247-250), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94v

'Tis less than to be born less than to be born, a lasting sleep, A quiet resting from all jealousy, A thing we all pursue I
know besides, it is but giving over of a game, [that] must be lost.
By Bellario, in Philaster (3.1.256-260), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94v

I will fly as far as there is morning ere I give distaste to that most honoured mind.
By Bellario, in Philaster (3.1.284-286), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94v

If you shall hear [that] sorrow struck me dead, | and after find mee loyal, let there be |
a tear shed from you, in my memory,| and I shall rest in peace.
By Bellario, in Philaster (3.1.290-293), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94v

They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams, And make 'em truths; they draw a nourishment Out of defamings grow upon disgraces; And, when they see a virtue fortified Strongly above the battery of their tongues, Oh, how they cast to sink it! and, defeated, (Soul-sick with poison) strike the monuments Where noble names lie sleeping, till they sweat, And the cold marble melt.
By Arethusa, in Philaster (3.2.37-45), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94v

Peace to [your] fairest thoughts, my dearest mistress
By Philaster, in Philaster (3.2.46-47), Francis Beaumont
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 94v

⊕	Anonymous
⊕	Beaumont, Francis
⊕	Cartwright, William
⊕	Chapman, George
⊕	Daborne, Robert
⊕	Daniel, Samuel
⊕	Dekker, Thomas
⊕	Denham, John
⊕	Ford, John
⊕	Gent, J. W.,
⊕	Goffe, Thomas
⊕	Greville, Fulke
⊕	Hausted, Peter
⊕	Heywood, Thomas
⊕	Jonson, Ben
⊕	Lyly, John
⊕	Marston, John
⊕	Massinger, Philip
⊕	Middleton, Thomas
⊕	Milton, John
⊕	Peaps, William
⊕	Quarles, Francis
⊕	Shakespeare, William
⊕	Shirley, Henry
⊕	Shirley, James
⊕	Sidney, Sir Philip
⊕	source, not in
⊕	Suckling, Sir John
⊕	Tomkis, Thomas
⊕	Tourneur, Cyril
⊕	Webster, John
⊕	Wilkins, George

Authors

Francis Beaumont - Results found: 311