The British Theatre: Or, A Collection of Plays, which are Acted at the Theatres Royal, Drury Lane, Convent Gardin, Haymarket, and Lyceum, Band 5

Mrs. Inchbald
Hurst, Robinson, 1824

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Seite 4 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine : But this eternal blazon ' must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Seite 24 - No traveller returns, — puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus, conscience does make cowards of us all ; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.
Seite 29 - No ; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear ? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself...
Seite 86 - Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly : These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe l 2.
Seite 16 - I have of late, — but wherefore I know not, — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, — why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Seite 27 - I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not sa.w the air too much with your hand, thus ; but use all gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.
Seite 2 - What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, : . Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ? [Ghost beckons Hamlet.
Seite 70 - Implored your highness' pardon and set forth A deep repentance : nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it ; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed* As 'twere a careless trifle.
Seite 1 - How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
Seite 19 - I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er : Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.

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