Rosalynde, Or Euphues Golden Legacie |
Common terms and phrases
Adam Spencer Alinda amorous assoone beautifull beauty began blush Boare speare brother Rosader cheare Coridon court courteous curtesie dayes death deepe desires discontent discourse disdaine doth downe EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE excellence exile extreame eyes eyther face faine fancie farre favour flocks folly Forrester fortunes frowne Gani Gentleman Gerismond GOLDEN LEGACIE ROSALYNDE griefe hart hath heare heart Heigh himselfe honour John of Bourdeaux King leave LEGACIE ROSALYNDE EUPHUES lookes lyke Maister mede Mistres Mistresse Montanus Nymph passions Peeres of France Phoebe pittie pollax quoth Aliena quoth Ganimede quoth Rosader revenge ROSALYNDE EUPHUES GOLDEN rose Saladyne salve sate shee shepheards shew sigh sight Sir John sir quoth smile sonnes Sonnet sorrowes stept Sunne swaine sweet teares thee theyr thine THOMAS LODGE thou art thoughts thy father thy selfe Torismond tree unto Venus vertues vertuous wanton women yeeld yoong
Popular passages
Page 24 - I'll make you fast it for your sin, I'll count your power not worth a pin: Alas, what hereby shall I win, If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be, Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee; O Cupid, so thou pity me, Spare not, but play thee.
Page 92 - Forsooth and so will I. Down a down, Thus Phyllis sung By fancy once distressed : Who so by foolish love are stung Are worthily oppressed. And so sing I, with down, a down, a down a.
Page 31 - First shall the heavens want starry light, The seas be robbed of their waves, The day want sun, and sun want bright, The night want shade, the dead men graves, The April flowers and leaf and tree, Before I false my faith to thee. First shall the tops of highest hills By humble plains be overpried, And poets scorn the Muses...
Page 24 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?
Page 71 - How now, forester, have I not fitted your turn? have I not played the woman handsomely, and...
Page 24 - With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; He music plays if so I sing; He lends me every lovely thing; Yet cruel he my heart doth sting.
Page 38 - A shepheard I am, and this a lover, as watchful to please his wench as to feed his sheep : ful of fancies, and therefore, say I, full of follyes.
Page 52 - Nay, villaine (quoth he) I have heard of the wronges thou hast proffered thy brother, since the death of thy father, and by thy means have I lost a most brave and resolute chevalier. Therefore, in justice to punish thee, I spare thy life for thy fathers...
Page 16 - ... and disdain, courteous and yet coy, as if in them Venus had placed all her amorets, and Diana all her chastity.