Відгуки відвідувачів - Написати рецензію
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appear bard beſt bring cauſe character charms critic dare dear draw Engliſh Epilogue ev'ry eyes face fair fall fame fate favour fear feel female fire firſt foes folly fool friends GARRICK give grace hand head hear heart heroes honour hope keep kind King Ladies laugh laws leave live look Lord means mind Miſs Muſe muſt nature ne'er never night o'er once piece play pleaſe poet poor praiſe pray PROLOGUE riſe round rule ſame ſay ſcene ſee ſenſe ſhall ſhould ſmile ſome ſoul ſpeak Spoken ſtage ſtill ſuch ſure taſte tears tell there's theſe thing thoſe thought thro to-night town true truth turn virtue whoſe wife wou'd write WRITTEN young
Сторінка 307 - 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.
Сторінка 90 - 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!
Сторінка 126 - And about something make a mighty Pother ; They all go in, and out; and to, and fro...
Сторінка 167 - 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.
Сторінка 296 - Then Jonson came, instructed from the school, To please in method, and invent by rule...
Сторінка 322 - 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.
Сторінка 166 - This night, our wit, the pert apprentice cries, Lies at my feet, I hiss him, and he dies.
Сторінка 18 - 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...