The Theatrical Bouquet: Containing an Alphabetical Arrangement of the Prologues and Epilogues, which Have Been Published by Distinguished Wits, from the Time that Colley Cibber First Came on the Stage to the Present Year ...
T. Lowndes, 1780 - Prologues and epilogues - 337 pages
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applauſe aſk bard beſt boaſt breaſt Britiſh Britons caſe cauſe E P I L O G U E Engliſh ev'ry Ev’n eyes fair fame faſhion firſt heart honeſt houſe huſband jeſt juſt Ladies laſt laugh leaſt Lord loſe Miſs moſt muſe muſt ne'er o'er P R O L O G U E P R O L O G U E T O paſs paſſion paſt play pleaſe pleaſure poet praiſe preſent Prologue raiſe reaſon riſe ſaid ſame ſave ſay ſcarce ſcene ſcorn ſee ſeem ſeen ſenſe ſet ſex Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhew ſhort ſhould ſhow ſkill ſmall ſmile ſoft ſome ſons ſoon ſoul ſpare ſpeak ſpirit Spoken ſpread ſtage ſtand ſtate ſtill ſtory ſtrange ſtrike ſucceſs ſuch ſure ſweet T H E T O T H E taſte theſe thoſe thro to-night uſe whoſe wiſe wiſh worſe wou'd
Page 309 - To drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Percy took his way ; The child may rue that is unborn The hunting of that day.
Page 92 - The welcome visitors' approach denote; Farewell all quality of high .renown, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious town! Farewell! your revels I partake no more, And Lady Teazle's occupation's o'er!
Page 128 - And about something make a mighty Pother ; They all go in, and out; and to, and fro...
Page 169 - The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye; While England lives, his fame can never die: But he who struts his hour upon the stage, Can scarce extend his fame for half an age; Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save, The art, and artist, share one common grave.
Page 298 - Then Jonson came, instructed from the school, To please in method, and invent by rule...
Page 324 - Throw it behind the fire, and never more Let that vile paper come within my door." Thus at our friends we laugh, who feel the dart; To reach our feelings, we ourselves must smart. Is our young bard so young, to think that he Can stop the full spring-tide of calumny? Knows he the world so little, and its trade? Alas! the devil's sooner raised than laid.
Page 168 - This night, our wit, the pert apprentice cries, Lies at my feet, I hiss him, and he dies.
Page 20 - Rome swift thunder flew, And headlong from his throne the tyrant threw : Thrown headlong down, by Rome in triumph led, For this night's deed, his perjur'd bosom bled. His brother's ghost each moment made him start, And all his father's anguish rent his heart. "When rob'd in black his children round him hung...