Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3 - Results found: 309
Plays Jonson: Jonson, Everyman out of his humour
A man well-parted,
a sufficient scholar, and travelled, who, wanting that place in the world's account which he thinks his merit capable of, falls into such an envious apoplexy, with which his judgement is so dazzled and distasted
By [description from the character list: Macilente],
in Every Man out of his Humour (CharacterList 6-9 Macilente),
Ben Jonson
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 39v
Envy
hate
The
true condition of envy is Dolor
alienae felicitatis
: to have our eyes continually fixed upon another man’s prosperity – that is, his chief happiness – and to grieve at that. Whereas if we make his monstrous and abhorred actions our object, the grief we take then comes nearer the nature of hate than envy, as being bred out of a kind of contempt and loathing in ourselves. Right, for what a man truly envies in another, he
could always love and cherish in himself;
By Cordatus,
in Every Man out of his Humour (1.3.151-160),
Ben Jonson
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 39v
"
"
"
He will think and speak his thought, both
freely but as distant from depraving any other man's merit, as proclaiming his own.
For his valour, ’tis such that he dares as little to offer an injury as receive one. In sum, he hath a most ingenious and sweet spirit, a sharp
and seasoned wit, a straight judgement and a strong mind,
constant and unshaken. Fortune could never break him or make him less. he counts it his
pleasure to despise pleasures, and is more delighted with good deeds than goods.
By Mercury,
in Cynthia's Revels (2.3.101-107),
Ben Jonson
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 40r
Wise parents""
Ha, I was not born to be my cradle's drudge,To choke and stifle up my pleasures' breath,To poison with the venomed caress of thrift,
My private sweet of life: only to scrape
A heap of muck, to fatten and manure
The barren virtues of my
progeny,And make them sprout, spight of their want of worth
By Sir Edward Fortune,
in Jack Drum's Entertainment (A4v),
John Marston
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 40v
statists
"
Why, thus should statesmen do, That cleave through knots of craggy policies, Use men like wedges, one strike out another; Till, by degrees, the tough and knurly trunk Be riv'd in sunder.
By Piero Sforza, Duke of Venice,
in Antonio's Revenge (4.1.194-198),
John Marston
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 41v
Play: The Untrussing of the Poet Dekker
weddings
flowers never die a sweeter death, than when they are smother'd to death in a Lover's bosom,, or else paue the high wayes, ouer which these pretty, simpring, setting things, call’d brides, must trippe. becuase 'tis—o a most sweet thing to lie with a man
By Gentlewoman 2,
in Satiro-mastix: or, The Untrussing of the humorous poet (TLN 89-96),
Thomas Dekker
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 42v
For, if of all the bodies parts, the head
Be the
most royall: if discourse, wit, Iudgement
, And all our vnderstanding faculties
,
Sit there in their high Court of Parliament, Enacting lawes to sway this humorous world: This little He of Man: needes must that crowne, Which stands vpon this supreame head, be faire, And helde inualuable, and that crownes the Haire:
The head that wants this honour stands awry, Is bare in name and in authority.
By Horace,
in Satiro-mastix: or, The Untrussing of the humorous poet (TLN1454-1463),
Thomas Dekker
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 42v
Against Baldness
That the foure Elements take pride
to weare The fashion of it: when Firemost bright
does burne, The flames
to golden lockes
doe striue to turne; When her lasciuious armes
the Water hurles, About theshoares wast,
sleeke head she curles: And rorid cloudesbeing suckt into the Ayre, When
downe they melt
to, hangs like
fine siluer hayre
You see the Earth (whose head so oft is shorne) Frighted
to feele her lockes
so rudely torne,
Stands with her haire an end, and (thus afraide) Turnes euery haire to a greene naked blade.
Besides, when (strucke with griefe) we
we long to dye, We
that most, which
most does beautifie
By Horace,
in Satiro-mastix: or, The Untrussing of the humorous poet (TLN 1474-1486),
Thomas Dekker
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 42v
hee whose yeares doe rise, To their full height, yet not balde, is not wise. The Head is Wisedomes house, Haire but the thatch, Haire? It 's the basest stubble; in scorne of it, This Prouerbe sprung, he has more
haire then wit: Marke you not in derision how we call,A head growne thicke with haire, Bush-naturall?
By Crispinus,
in Satiro-mastix: or, The Untrussing of the humorous poet (TLN1849-1855),
Thomas Dekker
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 42v
Tis a mad world
Their services are, clock-like, to be set Backward and forward at their lord’s command. You know my father’s wayward, and his humour
Must
not receive
a check, for then all objects
Feed
both his grief and
his impatience
And those affections in him are like powder,
Apt to inflame with every little spark
And blowe up reason.
By Paulo,
in The Case is Altered (1.4.81-88),
Ben Jonson
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 80r
It seems you are jealous: I’ll shew you the error of it by a familiar example: I have seen a pair of
spectacles
fashioned with such perpective art, that lay
down but one
twelve pence a* th’ board, ’twill appear as if there were twenty; now should you wear a pair of these spectacles, and see your wife tying her shoe
, you
would imagine twenty hands
were taking up of your wife’s clotlies, and this would put you into a horrible these spectacles, and see
By Flamineo,
in The White Devil (1.2.p.19),
John Webster
in Bodleian Library MS English poetry d. 3, f. 81r