De Witt's Perfect Orator: Comprising a Great Number of Readings, Recitations, Dialogues and Harangues ... Added to which are Very Carefully Composed Prefatory Remarks ... Together with a Number of Useful Suggestions as to the Stage Arrangements, Making the Costumes, Scenery ...Henry Llewellyn Williams R.M. De Witt, 1872 - 180 sider |
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Side 15
... thou art honest ? PIERRE . So , indeed , men think me ; But they're mistaken , Jaffier ; I'm a rogue , As well as they ; A fine , gay , bold - faced villain as thou seest me ! " Tis true , I pay my debts , when they're contracted ; I ...
... thou art honest ? PIERRE . So , indeed , men think me ; But they're mistaken , Jaffier ; I'm a rogue , As well as they ; A fine , gay , bold - faced villain as thou seest me ! " Tis true , I pay my debts , when they're contracted ; I ...
Side 16
... thou Not wear those seals of woe upon thy face ; The proud Priuli should be taught humanity , And learn to value such a son as thou art . I dare not speak , but my heart bleeds this moment . JAF . Cursed be the cause , though I , thy ...
... thou Not wear those seals of woe upon thy face ; The proud Priuli should be taught humanity , And learn to value such a son as thou art . I dare not speak , but my heart bleeds this moment . JAF . Cursed be the cause , though I , thy ...
Side 33
... Thou hast all seasons for thine own , O Death ! Day is for mortal care , Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth , Night for the dreams of sleep , the voice of ... Thou art where music THE HOUR OF DEATH . 33 The Hour of Death Hemans.
... Thou hast all seasons for thine own , O Death ! Day is for mortal care , Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth , Night for the dreams of sleep , the voice of ... Thou art where music THE HOUR OF DEATH . 33 The Hour of Death Hemans.
Side 34
... Thou art where billows foam , Thou art where music melts upon the air ; Thou art around us in our peaceful home ; And the world calls us forth - and thou art there . Thou art where friend meets friend , Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest ...
... Thou art where billows foam , Thou art where music melts upon the air ; Thou art around us in our peaceful home ; And the world calls us forth - and thou art there . Thou art where friend meets friend , Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest ...
Side 42
... arts of war and peace , — Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet , But all , except ... art thou , My country ? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now- The heroic bosom beats no more ! And ...
... arts of war and peace , — Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet , But all , except ... art thou , My country ? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now- The heroic bosom beats no more ! And ...
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Antonio arms art thou BAILIE NICOL JARVIE beautiful beneath blessed blood bosom brave breast breath brow BRUTUS CHAPTER choice Comic COLA DI RIENZI dare dark daughter dead dear death Deloraine dost doth dread dream dress DUKE Duke of Mantua earth EUGENE ARAM Exit eyes fair father Fazio fear feel FERRARDO gentle GUS WILLIAMS hand hath hear heard heart heaven HORSE hour Hubert JAMES JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES Juliet king leave LICTORS light lips Lochinvar look lord Malcolm Young Mattie MIRA mother ne'er never night noble o'er Pescara piece PIERRE pray recitation Romeo rose Samian wine scene Shylock slave smile Songs soul speak sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou art Thou hast thought Twas voice wild words wretch young Zaphira
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Side 134 - Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot; O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea!
Side 47 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.
Side 150 - Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle, Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay ; So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore, ' Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' * And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchor'd by thy side.
Side 48 - What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name ! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title.
Side 94 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child ! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires ? What mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand...
Side 91 - And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep, Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me, With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
Side 96 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Side 135 - O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Side 50 - My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
Side 57 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.