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, Orme, and Brown, 1808 - English drama
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Page 57 - The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me : But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us (And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue ; And that which he delights in must be happy.
Page 57 - The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
Page 56 - Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Page 15 - O'ercast with gloomy cares, and discontent ; Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me, What' are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns, And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy prince ? SYPHAX. 'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts, Or carry smiles and sun-shine in my face, , When discontent sits heavy at my heart.
Page 5 - Dear Bob, — I have not anything to leave thee, to perpetuate my memory, but two helpless girls ; look upon them, sometimes ; and think of him that was, to the last moment of his life, thine, — GEORGE FARQUHAR.
Page 43 - ARCH. Madam, the ladies pay best; the honour of serving them is sufficient wages; there is a charm in their looks that delivers a pleasure with their commands, and gives our duty the wings of inclination. MRS.
Page 28 - The resolution fits a Roman senate. But, Cato, lend me for a while thy patience, And condescend to hear a young man speak. My father, when some days before his death He...
Page 18 - Tis not a set of features, or complexion, The tincture of a skin, that I admire: Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
Page 30 - Exacts severity from all our thoughts : It is not now a time to talk of aught But chains or conquest, liberty or death.
Page 18 - His counsels bade me yield to thy directions: Then, Syphax, chide me in severest terms, Vent all thy passion, and I'll stand its shock, Calm and unruffled as a summer sea, When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface.

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