Catiline [1611] / Ben Jonson
| dc.contributor | Craig, Hugh Department of English University of Newcastle 2308 Newcastle, N.S.W. |
| dc.contributor.author | Jonson, Ben, 1573?-1637 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2019-07-04T09:55:42Z |
| dc.date.available | 2019-07-04T09:55:42Z |
| dc.date.created | 1611 |
| dc.date.issued | 1992-03-11 |
| dc.identifier | ota:1600 |
| dc.identifier.citation | http://purl.ox.ac.uk/ota/1600 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/1600 |
| dc.description.abstract | Jonson, Ben, 1573?-1637. -- Catiline [1611]. -- s.l. : s.n., s.d. -- Short Title Catalogue 14759 |
| dc.format.extent | Text data (1 file : ca. 250 KB) |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Oxford Text Archive Core Collection |
| dc.rights | Oxford Text Archive |
| dc.rights.uri | https://ota.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/repository/xmlui/page/licence-ota |
| dc.rights.label | ACA |
| dc.subject.lcsh | English drama -- 17th century |
| dc.subject.other | Plays |
| dc.title | Catiline [1611] / Ben Jonson |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 260532 |
| files.count | 2 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1600-1699 |
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<Text id=JonCati>
<Author>Jonson, Ben</Author>
<Title>Catiline</Title>
<Edition>Prepared from 1611 Quarto (STC 14759) by Hugh Craig, D of English, U of Newcastle. OTA A-1435-A</Edition>
<Date>1611</Date>
<body>
<loc><locdoc>JonCati1.1</locdoc>
<div0 type=act n=1>
<div1 type=scene n=1>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Do'st thou not feele me, Rome? Not yet? Is night</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>so heauy on thee, and my weight so light?</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Can Sylla's Ghost arise within thy walles,</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Lesse threatning, then an earth-quake, the quicke falles</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Of thee, and thine? shake not the frighted heads</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Of thy steepe towers? or shrinke to their first beds?</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Or, as their ruine the large Tyber fils,</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Make that swell up, and drowne thy seuen proud hils?</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>What sleape is this doth seize thee, so like death,</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>and is not it? Wake, feele her . . .
