The British drama; a collection of the most esteemed tragedies, comedies, operas, and farces, in the English language

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Сторінка 308 - 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.
Сторінка 309 - The soul, secured in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 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.
Сторінка 250 - Oh woman ! lovely woman! Nature made thee To temper man: we had been brutes without you; Angels are painted fair, to look like you : There's in you all that we believe of heav'n, Amazing brightness, purity and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Сторінка 392 - Squire Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I ever set my eyes on. For winding the straight horn, or beating a thicket for a hare, or a wench, he never had his fellow.
Сторінка 392 - No, sir, but if you can inform us — Tony. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that — you have lost your way.
Сторінка 308 - Content thyself to be obscurely good. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honour is a private station.
Сторінка 390 - Eh ! you have frozen me to death again. That word reserved has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband.
Сторінка 161 - One stormy night, as I remember well, The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof: Red came the river down, and loud and oft The angry spirit of the water shriek'd.
Сторінка 398 - Ah ! could you but see Bet Bouncer, of these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod, she has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit cushion.
Сторінка 295 - To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart, To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold...

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