British Theatre, Volume 30

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J. Bell, 1791 - English drama
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Page 6 - Tis not that I am mortified to all ambition; but I scorn as much to take it from half-witted judges, as I should to raise an estate by cheating of bubbles.* Neither do I discommend the lofty style in tragedy, which is naturally pompous and magnificent; but nothing is truly sublime, that is not just and proper.
Page 39 - O seek not to convince me of a crime, Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon ; Or, if you needs will know it, think, oh think, That he who, thus commanded, dares to speak, • Unless commanded, would have died in silence. But you adjured me, madam, by my hopes ! Hopes I have none, for I am all despair ; Friends I have none, for friendship follows favour ; Desert I've none, for what I did was duty : — Oh that it were ! — that it were duty all ! Leo.
Page 9 - The truth is, the audience are grown weary of continued melancholy scenes; and I dare venture to prophesy that few tragedies except those in verse shall succeed in this age if they are not lightened with a course of mirth. For the feast is too dull and solemn without the fiddles.
Page 5 - D'Amboys upon the theatre; but when I had taken up what I supposed a fallen star, I found I had been cozened with a jelly; nothing but a cold, dull mass, which glittered no longer than it was shooting; a dwarfish thought, dressed up in gigantic words, repetition in abundance, looseness of expression, and gross hyperboles; the sense of one line expanded prodigiously into ten; and, to sum up all, uncorrect English, and a hideous mingle of false poetry and true nonsense ; or, at best, a scantling of...
Page 7 - Ocean ; To glaze the Lakes, to bridle up the Floods, And periwig with Snow the bald-pate Woods.
Page 44 - O heavens, she pities me ! And pity still foreruns approaching love, As lightning does the thunder! Tune your harps, Ye angels, to that sound ; and thou, my heart, Make room to entertain thy flowing joy.
Page 98 - To bear affronts too great to be forgiven, And not have power to punish ; yet one way There is to ruin Bertran. Leo. Oh, there's none ; Except an host from heaven can make such haste To save my crown as he will do to seize it.
Page 109 - Farewell ungrateful traitor, Farewell my perjured swain, Let never injured creature Believe a man again. The pleasure of possessing Surpasses all expressing, But 'tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain.
Page 71 - What if I ne'er consent to make you mine ? My father's promise ties me not to time ; And bonds without a date, they say, are void.
Page 60 - I must first be satisfied, that you love me. Lor. By all that's holy ! by these dear eyes ! Elv. Spare your oaths and protestations ; I know you gallants of the time have a mint at your tongue's end to coin them. Lor. You know you cannot marry me ; but, by heavens, if you were in a condition Elv.

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