Thomas Copeland
speaker
365 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard Aug 2026
last heard 3 Aug
Thomas Copeland’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
Trend
recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 1 in all, peaking in Aug 2026 with 1.
Appearances
o honeyed sighs which from that breast do rise whose pants do make unspilling cream to flow winged with whose breath so pleasing zephyrs blow as can refresh the hell where my soul fries
O plaints, conserved in such a sugared phrase That eloquence itself envies your praise, While sobbed-out words a perfect music give, Such tears, sighs, plaints, no sorrow is but joy, Or, if such heavenly signs must prove annoy, All mirth farewell, let me in sorrow live.
101
stella is sick and in that sick bed lies sweetness which breathes and pants as oft as she and grace sick too such fine conclusions tries that sickness brags itself best graced to be
beauty is sick but sick in so fair guise that in that paleness beauty's white we see and joy which is inseparate from those eyes stella now learns strange case to weep in thee love moans thy pain and like a faithful page as thy looks stir comes up and down to make all folks prest at thy will thy pain to assuage
nature with care sweats for her darling's sake knowing worlds pass ere she enough can find of such heaven stuff to clothe so heavenly a mind one hundred two where be those roses gone which sweeten so our eyes where those red cheeks which oft with fair increase did frame the height of honour in the kindly badge of shame
who hath the crimson weeds stolen from my morning skies how doth the colour vade of those vermilion dyes which nature's self did make and self ingrain'd the same i would know by what right this paleness overcame that hue whose force my heart still unto thraldom ties gelane's adoptive sons who by a beaten way their judgments hackney on the fault on sickness lay
but feeling proof makes me say they mistake it fur it is but love which makes his paper perfect white to write therein more fresh the story of delight whiles beauty's reddest ink venus for him doth stir one hundred three
o happy thames that didst my stella bear i saw thyself with many a smiling line upon thy cheerful face joy's livery wear while those fair planets on thy streams did shine
the boat for joy could not to dance forbear while wanton winds with beauties so divine ravish stay'd not till in her golden hair they did themselves o sweetest prison twine and fain those eels youth there would their stay have made but forc'd by nature still to fly first did with puffing kiss those locks display
she so dishevel'd blush'd from window i with sight thereof cried out o fair disgrace let honour self to thee grant highest place one hundred four envious wits what hath been mine offence that with such poisonous care my looks you mark that to each word nay sigh of mine you hark as grudging me my sorrow's eloquence
ah is it not enough that i am thence thence so far thence that scarcely any spark of comfort dare come to this dungeon dark where rigor's exile locks up all my sense
But if I by a happy window pass, if I but stars upon mine armor bear, sick, thirsty, glad, though but of empty glass, your moral notes, straight my hid meaning tear from out my ribs, and puffing proves that I do Stella love.
Fools!
Who doth it deny?
105
unhappy sight and hath she vanished by so near in so good time so free a place dead glass dost thou thy object so embrace as what my heart still sees thou canst not spy i swear by her i love and lack that i was not in fault who bent thy dazzling race only unto the heaven of stella's face counting but dust what in the way did lie
ah cease mine eyes your tears do witness well that you guiltless thereof your nectar missed cursed be the page from whom the bad torch fell cursed be the night which did your strife resist cursed be the coachman which did drive so fast with no worse curse than absence makes me taste
one hundred six o absent presence stella is not here false flattering hope that with so fair a face bare me in hand that in this orphaned place stella i say my stella should appear what say'st thou now where is that dainty cheer thou told'st mine eyes should help their famished case
but thou art gone now that self-felt disgrace doth make me most to wish thy comfort near but here i do store a fair lady's meat who may with charm of conversation sweet make in my heavy mould new thoughts to grow sure they prevail as much with me as he that bade his friend but then new maimed to be merry with him and not think of his woe
Showing 341–360 of 365 · page 18 of 19
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