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Page 44 - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Page 170 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she ; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair, — For beauty lives with kindness ? Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring.
Page 80 - Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply Passion* as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art ? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick. Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury Do I take part. The rarer a'Ction is In virtue than in vengeance.
Page cix - WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones The labour of an age in piled stones ? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? Thou in our Wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Page 81 - I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war...
Page 4 - If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them : The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out.
Page 5 - But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O ! I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer : a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O ! the cry did knock Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
Page lxi - To bring a lover, a lady, and a rival into the fable; to entangle them in contradictory obligations, perplex them with oppositions of interest, and harass them with violence of desires inconsistent with each other; to make them meet in rapture and part in agony; to fill their mouths with hyperbolical joy and outrageous sorrow; to distress them as nothing human ever was distressed; to deliver them as nothing human ever was delivered, is the business of a modern dramatist. For this, probability is...
Page 110 - I have no other but a woman's reason : I think him so, because I think him so.
Page lxxiii - ... arising from the impossibility of passing the first hour at Alexandria and the next at Rome, supposes that when the play opens, the spectator really imagines himself at Alexandria, and believes that his walk to the theatre has been a voyage to Egypt, and that he lives in the days of Antony and Cleopatra. Surely he, that imagines this, may imagine more. He, that can take the stage at one time for the palace of the Ptolemies, may take it in half an hour for the promontory of Actium.