Plays and Poems (Google eBook)

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T. Evans and R. Baldwin, 1777 - English drama - 272 pages
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Page 257 - While, lightly poised, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood ; The springing trout in speckled pride ; The salmon, monarch of the tide ; The ruthless pike, intent on war, The silver eel, and mottled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch and groves of pine. And hedges flower'd with eglantine.
Page 239 - Through the wide-spreading waste of time, Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, Still shone with undiminish'd blaze? Thy towering spirit now is broke, Thy neck is bended to the yoke : — What foreign arms could never quell By civil rage and rancour fell.
Page v - The exhibitions of the stage were improved to the most exquisite entertainment by the talents and management of Garrick, who greatly surpassed all his predecessors of this and perhaps every other nation, in his genius for acting ; in the sweetness and variety of his tones, the irresistible magic of his eye, the fire and vivacity of his action, the elegance of attitude, and the whole pathos of expression.
Page 269 - QUO me, Bacche, rapis tui plenum ? quae nemora aut quos agor in specus velox mente nova...
Page xvi - I beg the same favour of you and your friends ?" The trial will come on in the beginning of May ; and if the affair cannot be compromised, we intend to kick up a dust and die hard.
Page 144 - A wit without sense, without fancy, a beau, Like a parrot he chatters, and struts like a crow ; A peacock in pride, in grimace a baboon, In courage a hind, in conceit a gascon.
Page 239 - The wretched owner fees afar His all become the prey of war ; Bethinks him of his babes and wife, Then fmites his breaft, and curfes life. Thy fwains are famifh'd on the rocks, Where once they fed their wanton flocks: Thy ravifh'd virgins fhriek in vain ; Thy infants perifh on the plain. III. What boots it then, in every clime, Thro...
Page 144 - In a word, to sum up all his talents together, His heart is of lead, and his brain is of feather: Yet, if he has sense but to balance a straw, He' will sure take the hint from the picture I draw.
Page 206 - Poet. ENOUGH, enough; all this we knew before ; 'Tis infamous, I grant it, to be poor : And who so much to sense and glory lost, Will hug the curse that not one joy can boast!
Page xxi - My fecrecy you may depend upon when I prefume to differ from you in any point of opinion, I fhall always do it with diffidence and deference. I have been ill thefe three months : but hope foon to be in a condition to pay my refpects to Mr.

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