The Works of Thomas Nashe: Have with yov to Saffron-Walden. Nashes lenten stvffe. Svmmers last will and testament. Shorter pieces. Doubtful works

Cover
A. H. Bullen, 1905
 

Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben

Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.

Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen

Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen

Beliebte Passagen

Seite 311 - I cannot so fully bequeath them to folly, as their ideot Art-masters, that intrude themselues to our eares as the Alcumists of eloquence, who (mounted on the stage of arrogance) thinke to out-braue better pennes with the swelling bumbast of bragging blanke verse.
Seite 315 - It is a common practise now a dayes amongst a sort of shifting companions, that runne through euery Art and thriue by none, to leaue the trade of Nouerint, whereto they were borne, and busie themselues with the indeuours of Art, that could scarcely Latinize their neck verse if they should haue neede; yet English...
Seite 316 - Seneca, let blood line by line and page by page, at length must needes die to our Stage...
Seite 312 - Rethoritian, to the contention of like perfection, with like expedition.
Seite 330 - Barly kernell wrapt vp in a Ballet, then they wil dig for the welth of wit in any ground that they know not...
Seite 311 - ... the clouds in a speech of comparison, thinking themselves more than initiated in poets' immortality if they but once get Boreas by the beard and the heavenly Bull by the dewlap.
Seite 204 - ... in that his narrow lobby, his herrings, which were as white as whalebone when he hung them up, now looked as red as a lobster.
Seite 315 - Blood is a begger, and so forth,- and if you intreate him faire in a frostie morning, he will affoord you whole Hamlets, I should say handfuls of TragicalI speeches.
Seite 34 - But when I came to vnrip and vnbumbast this Gargantuan bag-pudding, and found nothing in it, but dogs-tripes, swines liuers, oxe galls, and sheepes gutts, I was in a bitterer chafe than anie Cooke at a long Sermon when his meate burnes.
Seite 283 - Strength stoops unto the grave, Worms feed on Hector brave, Swords may not fight with fate, Earth still holds ope her gate, Come, come, the bells do cry.

Bibliografische Informationen