The Traitor - Results found: 51
Sir I must owe the title of a traitor to your high favours; envy first conspired and malice
now accuses, but what story mentioned his name that had his princes bosom with out the peoples
hate, tis sin enough in some men to be great, the throng of stars the rout and com=
mon people of the sky move still another way than the sun does
By Lorenzo,
in The Traitor (1.2),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 73r
had raised commotions
in our Florence When the hinge of state did faint under the burthen | and the people
sweat with their own fears,
to think The soldier should inhabit their calm dwellings, Who then rose up your safety, and crushed all Their plots to air?
By Lorenzo,
in The Traitor (1.2),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 73r
Looke heedfully about me, and thou may'st | discover through some cranny of my flesh | a fire
with in, my soul is but one flame | extended to all parts of this frail building, | I shall
turn ashes I
begin to shrink | is not already my complexion alterd, | does not my face look parched
and my skin gather | into a heap? my breath is hot enough | to thaw the Alps.
By Schiarra,
in The Traitor (2.1),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 73r
Me-thinks I could turn poet | and make her a more excellent piece then heaven. | let not fond
men hereafter commend what | they most admire by fetching from the stars | or flowers their
glory of similitude; | but from thyself the rule to know all beauty, | and he that shall arrive
at so much boldnesse, | to say his mistress' eyes, or voice, or breath, | are half so bright, so clear
so sweet as thine, | hath told the world enough of miracle.
By Schiarra,
in The Traitor (2.1),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 73r
The duke himself shall thee his, and single you from the fair troop,
thy person forth, to exhange embraces with, lay seige to these soft lips, and not remove
till he hath sucked thy heart, | which soon dissolv'd with thy sweet breath, shall be | made part of
his, at the same instant, he conveying a new soul into thy breast, | with a creating kiss.
By Schiarra,
in The Traitor (2.1),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 73r
He's not in the common list of friends, | and he does love thee past imagination; | next his religion
he has placed the thought | of Oriana, he sleeps nothing else | and I shall wake him into heaven, to
say | thou hast consented to be his.
By Cosmo,
in The Traitor (2.2),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 73r
thou hast a quarrel / and a just one with thy stars, that did not make thee / a princess
Amidea, yet
thou'rt greater / and born to justify unto these times /
Venus, the queen of Love, was but thy figure, | and all her graces prophecies of thine, / to make our last age
best; I could dwell ever / here and imagine I
weream in a temple, to offer on this
altar of thy lip, / myriads of flaming kisses with a cloud / of sighs breathed from my
heart / which by the oblation would increase his stock, to make my pay eternal.
By Duke,
in The Traitor (3.3),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 73v
Though I have / no weapon, I will look thee dead, or breath / a dampe shall stifle thee, that
I could vomit / consuming flames, or stones like,
Etna, make / the earth with motion of my feet
shrink lower, / and take thee in alive, oh that my voice / could call a serpent from corrupted Nile / to make thee part of her accursed bowels.
By Schiarra,
in The Traitor (4.2),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 74r
A melancholy
chamber in the
earth, hung round about with skulls and dead- men's bones.
Ere Amidea have told all her tears / upon thy marble, or the epitaph / Bely thy soul, by saying
it is fled / to heaven: this sister shall be ravished, Maugre thy dust and heraldry.
By Lorenzo,
in The Traitor (4.2),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 74r
This white hand;
Amidea that hath so often / with admiration trembled on the lute, / till we have
prayed thee leave the strings awhile, / and laid our ears close to thy ivory fingers, / suspecting all the
harmony proceeded / from their owne motion / with out the need / of any dull or passive instruments
By Schiarra,
in The Traitor (5.1),
James Shirley
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 74r