The Acting National Drama ...

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Benjamin Nottingham Webster
Chapman and Hall, 1837
 

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Page 12 - Do my face (If thou had'st ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me look Like Sorrow's monument ; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leafless ; let the rocks Groan with continual surges ; and behind me, Make all a desolation.
Page 19 - All joys upon him ! for he is my friend. Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend : His worth is great ; valiant he is and temperate ; And one that never thinks his life his own, If his friend need it.
Page 25 - Oh, no ! what look soe'er thou shall put on To try my faith, I shall not think thee false ; I cannot find one blemish in thy face, Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to bed. If you have sworn to any of the virgins That were your old companions to preserve Your maidenhead a night, it may be done Without this means.
Page 11 - Weeps for the ruined merchant, when he roars; Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails, When the strong cordage cracks ; rather, the sun Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn, When all falls blasted. If...
Page 10 - Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear; Say I died true: My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth. Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth!
Page 19 - I returned (as, without boast, I brought home conquest), he would gaze upon me And view me round, to find in what one limb The virtue lay to do those things he heard; Then would he wish to see my sword, and feel The quickness of the edge, and in his hand Weigh it: he oft would make me smile at this. His youth did promise much, and his ripe years Will see it all performed.
Page 12 - These colours are not dull and pale enough, To show a soul so full of misery As this sad lady's was ; do it by me, Do it again by me the lost Aspatia, And you shall find all true but the wild island.
Page 10 - The mournful'st things that ever ear hath heard, And sigh, and sing again ; and when the rest Of our young ladies, in their wanton blood, Tell mirthful tales in course, that fill the room With laughter, s"he will, with so sad a look, Bring forth a story of the silent death Of some forsaken virgin, which her grief Will put in such a phrase, that, ere she end, She'll send them weeping, one by one, away.
Page 10 - em, and strew her over like a corse. She carries with her an infectious grief That strikes all her beholders, she will sing The mournfull'st things that ever ear hath heard, And sigh, and sing again ; and when the rest Of our young ladies in their wanton blood, Tell mirthful tales in course...
Page 24 - Or in the life to come, are light as air To a true lover when his lady frowns, And bids him do this.

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