A History of English Dramatic Literature to the Death of Queen Anne, Volume 1

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Macmillan and Company, 1875 - English drama
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Page 159 - If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend...
Page 324 - Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them.
Page 187 - It's no sin to deceive a Christian; For they themselves hold it a principle, Faith is not to be held with heretics; But all are heretics that are not Jews; This follows well, and therefore, daughter, fear not.
Page 228 - Beauty is but a flower, Which wrinkles will devour: Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath closed Helen's eye; I am sick, I must die. Lord have mercy on us!
Page 273 - Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger's heart, wrapt in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Page 324 - Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean; so over that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race. This is an art Which does mend nature — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Page 552 - As when some one peculiar Quality Doth so possess a Man, that it doth draw All his Effects, his Spirits, and his Powers, In their Confluxions all to run one Way,' This may be truly said to be a Humour.
Page 571 - ... so solemnly ridiculous, as to search out, who was meant by the gingerbread woman, who by the hobby-horse man, who by the costard-monger, nay, who by their wares.
Page 173 - Marlowe, bathed in the Thespian springs, Had in him those brave translunary things That the first poets had ; his raptures were All air and fire, which made his verses clear ; For that fine madness still he did retain Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.
Page 538 - No doubt some mouldy tale, Like Pericles and stale As the shrieve's crusts, and nasty as his fish — Scraps, out of every dish Thrown forth, and raked into the common tub...

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