A series of plays, in which it is attempted to delineate the stronger passions of the mind [by J. Baillie, Volume 2

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Page 253 - He who will not give Some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth, For others' good, is a poor frozen churl.
Page 271 - reft e'en of the form of men, Who in convulsive motion yet retain Some shreds of life more horrible than death: I've heard their groans, oh, oh!
Page 305 - The sage a conning o'er his book ; The tired wight, in rushy nook, Who half asleep, but faintly hears The gossip's tale hum in his...
Page 341 - I speak to empty air : it can be nothing. Is it not some delusion of the eyes ? [rubbing his eyes very hard, and rousing himself.} Ah ! still the hideous semblance is before me, Plain as at first. I cannot suffer this ! (runs to the lamps, and...
Page 286 - Do the sweet hamlets in their bushy dells Send winding up to heaven their curling smoke On the soft morning air? Do the flocks bleat, and the wild creatures bound In antic happiness ? and mazy birds Wing the mid air in lightly skimming bands ? Ay, all this is ; men do behold all this ; The poorest man. Even in this lonely vault, My dark and narrow world, oft do I hear The crowing of the cock so near my walls, And sadly think how small a space divides me From all this fair creation.
Page 190 - ... had reduced his age from thirty to twenty-one. Altogether it was a great night for Gaul, and thereupon the victorious Mme. Bernhardt, much encouraged, invaded England with her popinjay Hamlet, and actually exhibited him in the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre at Stratford-upon-Avon. VI. MACBETH.
Page 305 - Say, sweet carol, who are they Who cheerly greet the rising day ? Little birds in leafy bower ; Swallows twitt'ring on the tower; Larks upon the light air borne ; Hunters rous'd with shrilly horn ; The woodman whistling on his way ; The new-wak'd child at early play.
Page 286 - In all his beauteous robes of flecker'd clouds, And ruddy vapours, and deep glowing flames, And softly varied shades, look gloriously ? Do the green woods dance to the wind ? the lakes Cast up their sparkling waters to the light ? Do the sweet hamlets in their bushy dells Send winding up to heaven their curling smoke On the soft morning air ? Do the flocks bleat, and the wild creatures bound In antic happiness?
Page 337 - Have spent my peaceful days, and shar'd my crust With her who would have cheer'd me, rather far Than on this throne ; but, being what I am, I'll be it nobly.
Page 270 - So thus ye lie, who with the morning sun liose cheerily, and girt your armour on With all the vigour, and capacity, And comeliness, of strong and youthful men : Ye also, taken in your manhood's wane, With grizzled pates, from mates whose wither'd hands For some good thirty years had...

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