The British Theatre; Or, A Collection of Plays: Which are Acted at the Theatres Royal, Drury Lane, Covent Garden, and Haymarket ...

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1808 - English drama
 

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Page 79 - Well. This rage is vain, sir ; For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands full, Upon the least incitement ; and whereas You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, If there be law, (howe'er you have no conscience,) Either restore my land, or I'll recover A debt, that's truly due to me from you, In value ten times more than what you challenge. Over. I in thy debt ! O impudence ! did I not purchase The land left by thy father...
Page 26 - With ardour too heroic, on his foes, Fall down, as she would do, before his feet; Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death. Tell him, this god is not invulnerable; That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him; And, that you may remember her petition, She begs you wear these trifles, as a pawn, Which, at your wished return, she will redeem [Gives jewels to the Commanders.
Page 7 - Of mimic'd statesmen and their merry king. No wit to flatter left of all his store! No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends.
Page 15 - It sits too near you. Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day, And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers, The hag that rifles my dreams Vent.
Page 25 - And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her; That were a wish too mighty for her hopes, Too presuming For her low fortune, and your ebbing love; That were a wish for her more prosperous days, Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness.
Page 13 - tis my birthday, and I'll keep it With double pomp of sadness. Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath. Why was I raised the meteor of the world, Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled, Till all my fires were spent; and then cast downward To be trod out by Caesar?
Page 36 - I know, sir, you have conquered against odds ; But still you draw supplies from one poor town, And of Egyptians: he has all the world, And, at his beck, nations come pouring in, To fill the gaps you make.
Page 24 - Sir, we lose time ; the troops are mounted all. ANT. Then give the word to march : I long to leave this prison of a town, To join thy legions ; and, in open field, Once more to show my face. Lead, my deliverer.
Page 29 - twas only love : The suns were wearied out with looking on, And I untired with loving. I saw you every day, and all the day ; And every day was still but as the first, So eager was I still to see you more. VENT.
Page 21 - Which shows the cause deserved it. Moderate sorrow Fits vulgar love, and for a vulgar man: But I have loved with such transcendent passion, I soared, at first, quite out of reason's view, And now am lost above it.

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